Double Blind (21 page)

Watch your step, Officer Delgado. I killed one cop, and I can easily kill another one.

“I don’t appreciate your accusations and you coming in here like this, talking about my business out in the open.”

“I’ll be in touch,” he says in a frosty tone. “Don’t leave town without calling me.”

Whatever.

I show him out of security and back into the casino. I just want to get him out as fast as possible,  to remove his ass from the premises. I’m on his heels as he weaves between the tables, glancing here and there. In the entrance, a man whose bulk seems to be wider than the doorway fixes his mean, small eyes on me.

Tony Rizzo.

Holy fucking shit.

The cop passes by him, giving him a snide look like it’s only a matter of time before he has us all locked up. I approach Tony, nerves fluttering in my stomach when he gives me that squinted, mean smile.

“What the fuck was that about?” he says when the cop disappears behind the doors.

“
Nothing
, Tone. Prick was just breaking my balls about a fight that happened a week ago.”

Tony’s grin widens dangerously and my hands twitch at my sides.

Something’s wrong.

He grabs the scruff of my neck, snarling in my face. “What were you thinking you stupid fuck?”

“Tony, what the fuck?”

In front of everyone, he drags me. I see Adriana’s pale face watching anxiously as I’m thrown into the men’s bathroom. Thankfully, it empty. I turn around steadily as he locks the door behind him.

“The fuck is your problem?”

Tony’s red face shakes with fury. “You’re my fucking problem. I talked to the guys at the deli and I know you killed that cop.”

My insides turn to ice.

Not good.

Not good at all.

He grabs my neck and slams me into the wall hard enough to crack the plaster. Stars burst in front of my vision and I want more than anything to beat the shit out of this asshole, but I know I’ll get killed.

“They recognized the fucking guy on TV and told me about it. You must be out of your fucking mind! The last thing I need right now are feds crawling up my ass.”

Shit.

“Tony—I can explain—”

“Oh, I’d love to hear this.”

“During that last job, there was a cop inside his apartment. I had to do them both! When I found out he was a cop, I took care of everything. Even his car.”

Tony’s face is an inch away from mine as he bellows at me, little flecks of spit landing on my face. His crooked teeth are bared as he growls. “Why the hell didn’t you tell me?”

Cause you’re a dumb, fat fuck who wouldn’t be able to calm down.

“I knew how you’d react.”

I keep my face in a neutral line, even though I’m laughing at him inside.

He jabs his finger in my face. “We do not touch cops, do you hear me? A hit like that brings the family heat we don’t need right now. I’m this close to settling our problems with the Vittorios. If you fuck it up for me, I’ll kill you.”

“Why settle things? Why not just get rid of them?”

Killing Vincent Cesare would be the highlight of my career.

“Because, you dumb prick, Jack has Johnny on his side now.”

Right. The Cravotta family boss in Montreal. They’re a big family, and a war against the Vittorios and the Cravottas would be a bit too much to handle.

“What did you do with the body?”

“Relax. I buried his head and hands in a farm on Long Island. They’ll never fucking find it.”

At the sound of my confident voice, Tony’s hackles settle down and he backs away finally letting go of my suit.

“You better hope they don’t.”

Then he storms out of the bathroom, the door swinging in his wake.

I'm not convinced that Tony will let things slide, but it’s time to pay a visit to Johnny and Brian.

Then I’ll think of what to do.

* * *

My rage builds around me like an electrical cloud as I get in my car. I had plans today, but now they’re all fucked. I told Adriana she had to take the metro today. I think on some level she felt relieved—that look she gave me when I squeezed her neck said it all, really. She looked at me like I was some kind of monster.

It wasn’t such a big deal. Why do women have to get into hysterics about everything? Sometimes people do violent things out of love. My Ma beating my hands with a wooden spoon when I stole snacks from the cupboard—that was done out of love. She was trying to teach me to be a good boy, but I never listened. I know I’m rotten to the core, just like she always said. Look at what I do for a living.

But you only stole the snacks because you were starving.

A soft, low voice in my head speaks in my head. Tears spring in my eyes suddenly. I shake my head violently, nearly crashing into traffic as I slam the brakes.

No. Ma loved me, she just didn’t know how to show it without hurting me.

The other voice in my head simmers with quiet disagreement. I don’t like thinking like this. It just upsets me.

Adriana’s frightened face haunts me as I drive to Jersey. The stormy, grey clouds above my head reflect my mood as I park and step out of my car. Brian and John should already be inside. Carefully, I approach the back door of the deli and watch them shoot pool and eat sandwiches inside the employee area. There are no captains there. Great.

They’re laughing when I enter the room. Brian leans over the pool table, shutting up immediately when he sees me enter.

“What’s so funny?”

John, a young guy with spiky black hair, stands against the wall with a pool cue. He is still smiling. “Nothing, we were just breaking balls.”

“Come on, I want to hear the joke.”

Cocksuckers.

He gives Brian an uneasy look. “Carmine, relax. We’re just letting off some steam.”

The other men back away nervously as I approach John, whose hand clenches over the pool cue. I can practically taste his sweat. The fucking bastard.

“What did you say?”

“I’m sorry, Carmine.”

I corner him against the wall, looking into his wide eyes. It’s my own fault for having a reputation for being a nice guy.

“Oh, you’re sorry? That’s nice.”

I smash my fist into the side of his fucking head. The room explodes with gleeful yells as I pounce on him, pinning him on the floor as I channel every drop of my rage into my fists.

“Carmine, what the fuck?” he screams.

Grabbing a beer bottle from the pool table, I smash it over his head and it explodes in a thousand pieces. Glass shards are lodged in his face, blood streaming down in little rivers. Then I wrap my fingers around his throat and squeeze.

“You told Tony about the guy I brought here, you fucking worthless piece of shit. What, did you think I wouldn’t find out?”

His eyes bulge as I squeeze harder and then strong arms wrap around me, yanking me back. The jerk-off gulps down air and my shoes slip from the glass. Brian looks at me with a deer in headlights look, confirming his guilt. A ball of fury builds up in my chest and I lunge towards him.

“Carmine, calm down!”

“Get the fuck off me!”

Brian holds up a hand as if to placate a wild animal. John cries on the floor, clutching his face in pain. “I had to tell Tony the truth. He’s the boss. What did you expect?”

I rip my arms out of their grasp and aim the broken beer bottle at his face. “The next time you go crying to Tony Rizzo, I’ll do you worse than Johnny over there.”

I throw the beer bottle as hard as I can, aiming for his face, but Brian ducks out of the way and it explodes.

“Oh! What the fuck, Carmine?”

I don’t give a fuck.

One of them stoops down to help Johnny, who is still crying like a little bitch. They all look at me like I’m crazy. The floor is covered in shattered glass and flecks of blood. My chest heaves, my fingers itching to wrap around Brian’s throat.

“Fuck all of you.”

My gravelly voice trembles in my chest. Shaking, I turn my back on them and walk out.

* * *

“Mr. Lucchesi?”

I turn my head to the Italian receptionist, who gives me an uneasy smile.

Must still look pissed off.

Immediately, I brighten at her and set the flowers on the counter.

“Are those for your mom? They’re beautiful!”

“Yeah, they are. Thanks.”

“Um—your mother is in her room. Go ahead!”

For a moment, I’m tempted to just leave the flowers and go. Do I really have the patience to deal with her today? The receptionist’s encouraging smile makes me take the flowers off the counter and walk down the hall.

A huge, deep green golf course stretches beyond the glass outside. Every surface inside gleams, from the hardwood floor to the picture frames. Not a speck of dust. A man plays ragtime on a grand piano in the common room and he smiles at me as I pass. Everyone looks happy to be here. They better be at five grand a month.

I take a shuddering breath as I stop in front of Ma’s bedroom and knock on the door.

A perpetually angry voice shouts. “Who is it?”

“It’s me, Ma.”

“
Carmine!
Come in.”

I twist open the door, my nose twitching as I inhale a stale smell. It’s a big room with nicer furniture than I have at my house. There’s a sofa and a big, stuffed armchair, a 20-inch lcd screen, and a giant window with white curtains, kept firmly shut.

It’s dark inside. Everywhere.

I set the vase of flowers next to her head carefully. The yellow flowers seem to wilt in her presence, or maybe that’s my imagination.

Ma is buried under her comforter; her grey hair long and unkempt. Red-rimmed eyes seek me out—as if blaming me for something.

“What did you get those for?”

I inhale air. “I thought they would brighten your room a little.”

She waves them off dismissively. “I don’t need those. What’s the point in giving me something if it’s just going to die?”

Just fucking say, ‘thank you.’

“Nothing lasts, Ma. That’s why it’s important to enjoy things in life.”

Her eyes narrow at me. “There’s nothing in life to enjoy. I’m so sick I can’t even get up out of bed.”

I roll my eyes. “You’re not sick, Ma. It’s all in your head.”

Her eyes bulge out of her sockets. “How dare you!”

My heart jumps in my chest when she screams at me. “The doctors said so.”

“Oh, you think you know everything, don’t you?” she snarls. “You can’t even get a wife. That’s what I have to live with, with the shame that my son is a fag.”

My chest tightens and heat fills my face.

Step back from the bed. Don’t hit her.

“I am not a fag.”

“Yes you are,” she grins nastily. “With the way you dress and how you always cry and beg me—”

I almost lunge at her, but I grab the glass vase of flowers instead. A brief vision of me grabbing them and smashing the glass into her skull fills my eyes.

“I have a girlfriend.”

Suddenly, her attitude does a 180-degree turn and a smile widens her face. “Is she Italian?”

“Of course.”

“Well, are you going to marry her?”

I already know that I want to. “Someday.” Thinking of Adriana dispels some of the tension and my hand relaxes on the vase.

“Why didn’t you bring her here, then?”

“We just started dating, Ma.”

Suddenly she screws up her face. “I know why—you’re ashamed of me. Oh Lord, what did I do to deserve a son who is ashamed of his mother? Do you complain about me to her? I bet you do.”

I’ve told her a few things. My insides twist with guilt.

“Why do you always have to be this way?”

“Oh, poor you.” she snaps “I’m the one stuck in this nursing home. Left here alone to die.”

Fucking hell.

She dabs at her face with a corner of her bed sheet.

“Jesus Christ, you’re not alone. You’re surrounded by people.”

Ma grabs her tissue box from the nightstand, burying her face in cotton as she sobs. “I gave my life to my child and he repays me taking the Lord’s name in vain.” She gives me a venomous look. “You’ve always been such a little bastard—such a spiteful, hateful child.”

Darkness fills my vision. “Who was the one who burned cigarettes on my chest? Who starved me, beat me, made me kneel until my legs bled?”

“I never did any such thing!” she moans. “Why would you make up such horrible lies about your mother?”

I grit my teeth, my body burning with hate for her. She used to say it all the time, until I doubted my own memories. I wondered if I really was crazy—that I imagined it all.

I didn’t imagine the scars all over my body.

“They’re not lies, even if you refuse to admit them.”

“I bet your girl that you’re dating is a lie, too. Why would anyone want to be with you?”

It’s like I’m floating above myself.

I see myself lunge across the bed, grabbing a pillow and burying it in her face. Her muffled screams don’t even reach my ears.

I’ve snapped.

Maybe it’s because it’s a question I ask myself all the time, and to hear it from my own mother is too much to bear.

Her nails dig into my arms, scratching, but she’s too frail to fight me off. She has to die. Even if I stop now, she won’t hesitate to call the police and put me in jail. I know that.

Bitch. Fucking bitch. Cunt. She was always a nasty woman. She was so terrible that she drove my dad away. He wanted nothing to do with us because of
her
.

 She ruined my life.

Made me who I am.

And I am the monster she says I am. When I kill, I’m numb. There’s not a damn thing to stop me from doing it because I
like
it. I feel powerful.

Gradually, her moans fade and her limbs stop kicking. It takes over ten minutes for her to die. I lift the pillow, almost hesitantly.

Her mouth is open like a gaping fish, her eyes staring.

Jesus, what have I done? I killed my mother. I killed my
mother
.

The pillow drops to my feet and my back hits the wall as I inhale deep, panicked gasps. They saw me come in here. What the fuck am I going to do?

I killed my mother.

She wasn’t all bad, wasn’t she? Didn’t she take care of me when I was sick, hold me when I cried, didn’t she apologize for every burn on my body, every mark she ever made?