“Mom?” Carmen called out after stepping off the elevator. Except for her heels ringing through the halls, silence filled the space.
Hhmmm... The doorman said someone was home. After hanging her coat and purse in the hallway, she made her way to the living room.
The lights were on at the bar as well as the rest of the room. “Well, someone is here.”
She continued through the apartment. Noticing the balcony door slightly ajar, she crossed the living room to investigate. Finally, she heard Anthony’s voice. As she neared the sliding glass door, she could tell he was taking a call out on the balcony. Peering through the glass, she saw Anthony near the opposite end of the balcony with his back to her. She stopped before she reached the door. She thought she’d give him some privacy and retreated to the couch in the living room.
Anthony’s voice gradually became louder as he walked the balcony. Carmen could barely hear him until he wandered near the door. She chose to sit quietly as opposed to turning on the TV or anything else partially because she valued Anthony’s privacy and also because she noticed the manner in which Anthony was speaking.
She had never heard her brother speak in such a way. His voice was light and playful. He was almost cooing to whoever was on the other end of the phone call. Carmen smiled to herself and giggled at some of the phrases she was able to discern coming from the balcony. She was happy for her brother. She knew that their father’s death was hard on everyone. Perhaps a date would be great for Anthony.
Carmen heard her brother laugh and she could picture the smile on his face even though she couldn’t hear every word that was being said. He was obviously in a good mood. Happy that she caught him at such a good time, she tried not to eavesdrop too much.
As much as she tried to ignore the conversation, she still picked up pieces from it. As best as she could gather, he was talking to a girl name Jessie and they were planning something for later in the week at the Hyperion. The sweetness and tenderness Anthony displayed throughout the conversation surprised Carmen, but she was quietly thrilled to hear her brother behave like that.
After a while, Carmen sensed that her brother’s conversation was coming to a close. Finally, when she heard the beep of the phone, she stood and walked out to the balcony. Anthony, looking out over the city, heard her footsteps and turned toward her. His facial expression did not nearly match the mood Carmen anticipated.
In a curt and almost annoyed manner, Anthony greeted her with a short “Hey,” followed closely by, “What are you doing here?”
Caught completely off guard by his seemingly complete reversal in mood, she abruptly stopped. Stuttering in reply, she said, “I, I just came to visit.”
Crossing his arms and leaning back against the railing, he held a disbelieving look. “Oh really?...” he said. With a distinct note of seriousness, he added, “Do you need money?”
Offended at his audacity, Carmen’s mouth fell agape. “I can take care of myself, Anthony!”
His only response was to look off to the distance, arms still folded.
“Really, Anthony, I just thought I’d stop by and see my brother. Is that so terrible?”
Springing to life, Anthony bolted from the railing and crossed the balcony, “Give me a break, Carmen,” he said over his shoulder. “I’m far too busy with real family matters to spend time visiting with you!”
Stunned by his words, Carmen again stood with her mouth wide open and watched Anthony pass by her. Stopping near the railing on the opposite end of the balcony, he put his hands on his hips and surveyed the skyline, his back to Carmen.
After a few moments of silence, Carmen finally spoke. “What happened to us, Anthony?” she pleaded. She saw his head dip in response to her question. “We used to be so close.”
Anthony looked pensively over the balcony. His gaze softened for a moment, then hardened again as he turned to face her, “You’re right. We used to be close. We used to tell each other everything.” He looked her straight in the eye. “And sometimes I miss it. I really do. But,” he turned away from her again, “There are things you can’t be trusted with now.” He gripped the railing tensely, “If you wanna run around with that pussy-bitch Vincent, go ahead. But, don’t expect me to start telling all of my secrets to the whore who’s sleeping with the enemy!”
“Why would you say that?” Carmen said, quickly becoming upset.
“Because I fucking saw you in the hot tub that night at the party! I could have killed him then and nobody would have fucking cared. Since then, I know he’s been at your place a quite a few times!”
Carmen was stunned at first. But, then the realization that her brother was spying on her disgusted her. “You’ve had me followed??? You’ve been spying on me???” Crossing her arms she stepped toward her brother, “How dare you!”
“How dare I?” Anthony fired back. “You’re fucking sleeping with a member of the Marella family and you don’t expect me to keep tabs on that???” His incredulous tone insulted her. “Pop is gone. It’s up to me to look after the family and dammit I’m going to do it. I don’t care what it takes. And if that means I have to make a phone call and Vincent disappears, then so be it.” Carmen took a few steps back and her arms fell to her sides. “Now that you’ve been warned, you can consider yourself equally to blame if that is deemed necessary.”
Carmen couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Anthony continued his verbal assault. “You know what?” he asked. “I’m so tired of everyone telling me that you’re so like Mother, that you look just like her; ...and here you are acting like a total slut.” With a disgusted sneer, he turned away from her.
Her silence grated on Anthony as he remained turned away from her. Knowing that his words were quite harsh, he turned around. Carmen’s tearful eyes confirmed his thoughts. He quickly regretted his choice of words, but he couldn’t take them back now. He pounded his fist on the railing before exiting the balcony hurriedly.
Carmen watched him leave. She couldn’t understand how horribly wrong this innocent visit turned out. She wholly intended to have a pleasant visit with her brother, and possibly her mother, yet here she stood on the balcony, hurt, angry and alone. She mindlessly drifted to the edge of the balcony and looked out over the city. Rolling over the last few minutes in her head, the din of the city below was slowly drowned out by the deafening rage growing inside of her. Josh from work... the death of her father... Anthony’s recent animosity to her... Snapping back to reality, she was breathing hard and her knuckles were white as they gripped the railing tightly.
She spun back toward the apartment and noticed the cordless phone lying on the glass table. Needing to call Vincent, she walked over to the table and picked up the phone. The phone beeped as one of her fingers hit the “menu” button on the phone. Turning it to look at the display, she noticed the phone showed the last call made. “St. Michael’s Prep?” she said to herself. “The all boys school?”
Still filled with rage, Carmen impulsively hit the “redial” button. The phone only rang once before a male voice answered, “St. Michael’s. How may I direct your call?”
“May I speak to Jesse?” Carmen asked as calmly as she could.
“This is Jesse,” the voice replied.
There was no fire crackling in the hearth at the Abbate family office, but sitting next to it, Joe Pagliucci appeared as though he’d been roasting on one. Sloughed over with his chin resting (for the moment) on his right hand, he sat in the leather high-backed chair facing Isabel Abbate. One leg bounced rapidly as he glared at her, sweat beading upon his brow.
Isabel had requested his audience, and he had initially declined. But, Frank urged him to meet with her. He begrudgingly acquiesced, but he certainly didn’t have to like it. And why the hell did she bring Matty? Standing next to Isabel’s chair, the young associate was a trusted man, but beyond his penchant for snagging eye candy with below average intelligence, he didn’t really stand out. So, why was this ‘kid’ palling around with Carmine’s widow?... The thought of Isabel taking him as a lover passed through his head quickly, but he immediately dismissed it. She’s way too old for him.
Crossing her legs, Isabel settled into the chair. She placed her purse on the floor and with a warm smile, looked at Joe. She noted his appearance. My god! He must not have had a recent fix!
Her smile made an imperceptible shift to confident as she leaned back into the chair. She placed her hands on top of her leg and spoke, “Joe, I’m only here to help.”
Joe shifted in his chair to rest his chin on the opposite hand. His eyes, wide with anxious energy, blinked sporadically while he concentrated on focusing them on Isabel.
“I know you can take care of the family,” Isabel continued, leaning forward over her thighs, “And I want you to believe me when I say that I am glad we have a strong man such as yourself to lean on in times like these.”
In a near full-body twitch, Joe sat up straight and interlaced his fingers on his lap, still silent.
“But, sometimes even the strongest man needs a little support.” Isabel’s motherly tone relaxed Joe slightly. “That’s why I’m here.”
Joe’s anxious ticks stopped for a moment, “What makes you think I need support from you?” He asked. Glaring at her in defiance, he added, “I have an entire army of support if I need it.”
“I know you do, Joe.” The confident smile remained on Isabel’s face, but now her tone was reassuring, “But sometimes it’s better for a general to use a mercenary rather than his own troops, especially when the general is as well respected as you.” Nodding her head toward Matty, she said, “And that is what I can offer.”
Joe shifted his gaze toward Matty. Still defiant, he crossed his arms before his chest, his leg bounced once again. Despite shooting Matty an icy stare, Joe thought he looked unusually confident next to Isabel. Like a trained lap dog, Matty simply stood there. No movement, no noise, he just held a large, black case with both hands in front of him. What are these two up to?
“Okay, Isabel,” Joe finally said. “You seem to have a plan in mind.” Joe leaned forward and placed his elbows on his knees. “And since I know Carmine trusted you, I will give you one chance. But, by god,” he pointed at her, “If you try to fuck with me...”
Isabel raised a hand in response. “I don’t think most people knew how much Carmine and I spoke of business. It wouldn’t sit well within the structure of things. But since he was taken so unexpectedly, I feel it is only beneficial for the family if I lay the cards on the table and tell you what I know.”
Sitting back into the chair, Isabel waved her hand at Matty. Matty snapped into action and dropped the case onto the table next to the chairs. Without a word, he knelt next to the table, threw the case open and started grabbing pieces of hardware contained in the case.
Joe immediately recognized the M40A3 sniper rifle even in disassembly. He was, in fact, the one who had arranged for the family to purchase 3 of the weapons from a downtrodden Marine corporal who had the proper connections. But what the hell is Matty doing with one of them?
With astonishing deftness and dexterity, Matty assembled the weapon into its functional form in quick order. He slid the bolt out and then back into place to announce his completion, Matty held the weapon in front of him like a soldier prepared for inspection.
Precisely on cue, Isabel spoke once again, “You see, Joe, Matty here was a top assassin for Carmine.” Joe had returned to resting his chin in his hand. His leg bounced uncontrollably while he studied the scene before him. Isabel continued, “He may play the part of the eager young amateur, but he is really quite the accomplished professional.” Reading the excitement in Joe’s eyes, she smiled and decided the prepared story about Matty eliminating an informant wouldn’t be necessary.
Processing the new information behind his nervous eyes, he rapidly glanced among Isabel, Matty and the weapon. His chin rose above his curled fingers as he said, “I knew Carmine kept a few things to himself. But why this?” He waved his hand over the now empty case and toward Matty. “And what does this have to do with our situation now?” he asked, replacing his hand underneath his chin.
Isabel leaned forward, “Well, I know you’re eager to make your mark, and make our family’s position stronger at the same time, so I thought the up-coming meeting would present a wonderful opportunity.”
Joe’s eyes narrowed in suspicion, “How did you know about the meeting? I just got the invite yesterday.”
“I have my ways, Joe,” Isabel sat back again, smiling.
Matty returned to his kneeling position next to the table and started to disassemble the weapon. Without looking at Joe, he spoke, “You said it yourself, Joe, you gotta make a statement. But the statement can’t be so bold that the other families unite against you.” His hands moved confidently over the weapon, but at a slower pace than when he put it together. “So place yourself in a position of question. If you are there supposedly in harm’s way when the hit goes down, no one can say for sure that you planned it. But if you are outraged and take action and control in the aftermath, people will see you as a man with steel resolve, a man who isn’t to be fucked with.” The latches snapped shut to emphasize Matty’s last words. He then stood up and took his place next to Isabel’s chair.
Still blinking far too often and with one leg still bouncing, Joe appeared to literally chew on the scenario laid before him. He looked at Matty, then at Isabel with an air of doubt.
He must be desperate for a line. Isabel almost laughed to herself.
Finally, Joe spoke, “Tell me the plan.”
Isabel led the way down the hall. Carrying the case, Matty followed closely behind. Neither of them said a word as they waited for the elevator. Once the doors opened, Isabel stepped into the car. Matty followed and stood next to her as she pushed the button for the lobby.
Once the doors slid shut, Matty eagerly asked, “How was I, Isabel?” The precise soldier was instantly replaced by the eager-to-please puppy dog.
Isabel remained facing forward and looked up at the slowly changing floor numbers, “You couldn’t have been better, darling. Poor Joe won’t know what hit him.”