Amore (61 page)

The fighter threw another punch and the bell was sounded. The men were forced to their corners. Mira was on the edge of the seat bubbling with excitement.

**

The moment she arrived he saw her. How could he not? She was the most strikingly beautiful woman in the arena. Kei reclined in his seat and watched as she walked with her husband to a less populated, designated area. Mirabella was the same: beautiful, young, and vibrant. When she passed the rows of spectators, the heads of every red blooded man turned. She wore a slimming dress that hugged tight to her body and curves. It appeared to be backless. Three children later she was shapelier in the hips, ass, and breasts. But she was still petite in the waist, arms, and slender legs. He absorbed every detail. She climbed a few steps to reach their elevated row. Her hair was pinned up away from her neck. He liked it that way. It revealed more of her beauty. In his heart he took that as a sign. She was ready for him.

“There they are,” Santo said.

“I’ve changed plans.” Kei spoke.

“You what—”

“In the fourth round Giovanni will receive my declaration of war.” Kei’s gaze slipped over to Santo. “You need to have her clear of here before the bell rings.”

“He’ll never let her go without two or three men,” Santo said. “I think the ambush is the way to go.”

Kei smirked. “Not my problem. It’s yours. I’ll warn you. If she’s hurt in any way—”

“I won’t hurt her,” Santo assured him. He let go of an exasperated sigh. He stood and left. Kei stared at Giovanni and Mirabella. She smiled and whispered to her husband then pointed to the ring. Giovanni nodded and put his hand on Mirabella’s thigh. Kei leaned forward. He saw the kid boxer enter the auditorium in his robe with the hood over his head and his fists taped up. The crowd of Italians and Sicilians gathered stood and cheered. This was the runt to challenge Chao Lee. Kei shook his head and chuckled. He looked forward to the show.

**

“Is this the place?” Marietta asked.

Cecilia nodded. “I can’t go in there,
signora
. I can’t. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it. I won’t tell anyone you brought me.” She unhooked the seatbelt. She dug out the gun from her purse and checked the chamber for bullets.

“Signora!”
Cecilia grabbed her arm. “What are you going to do with that gun?”

“I plan to get my husband. Who runs this place?” Marietta asked.

“The woman’s name is Elsa. She used to work for your husband and for Tomosino. This was Lorenzo’s place before Don Giovanni cut all ties with the prostitute brothels. They won’t let you in to see him. He came here because they protect them. They aren’t Italians. These women are thieves, harlots, dangerous. You can’t trust them. They’re beneath you,
signora
. Please. I beg you. Don’t go in there.”

“I’m going to get my husband.” Marietta threw the door open.

The night was darkest on this street. Only the dull silver rays of a crescent moon cast any light. She had to walk up the narrow, cobblestone, one-way hill cramped by three story buildings. The front door of Maria’s opened. A man stumbled out with a woman under his arm. She appeared to be the one to keep him standing. He was clearly intoxicated. Marietta kept the gun pointed down and close to her thigh. She dashed between parked cars and up the sidewalk to the door of the whorehouse. To her frustration she found it locked. Marietta looked back and saw that Cecilia hadn’t left. The young woman sat in the car staring at her with troubled eyes.

Marietta banged on the door with her gun. She banged repeatedly.

The door opened. “
Che cosa!”
a very tall burly man with lots of facial hair yelled at her.

“Lorenzo Battaglia,” Marietta said.

The man frowned. “Fuck off.”

He turned to close the door and Marietta raised the gun. He must have caught sight of it from his peripheral vision because he froze. Good for him. She had her finger on the trigger with the intent to shoot it open.

“Let me in,” she said.

“Who is it Gregieo?” a woman asked.

“Move out my fucking way, fat man. Now!” Marietta shouted.

The man stepped back with his chubby hands raised. Marietta climbed the steps and walked inside. She closed the door behind her. The stench of sex, fragrant candles, and cheap floral perfume made her stomach clench. The lighting inside was a dull red haze, and hard on the eyes. Two women, one older, came into the hall. They stopped at the sight of Marietta with a gun.

“I want to see my husband. Lorenzo Battaglia. Where is he?”

“I’m Elsa. You must be Marietta?
Buonasera
.” The older woman smiled.

“Shut the fuck up with your fake greeting. Take me to him! Now!” Marietta fingered the trigger.
Is this the bitch that made it easy for Lorenzo to walk out on her? Maybe she should kill her first.
She leveled the gun directly at Elsa. The cool detachment in her voice, and steady aim, dimmed the confidence in the woman’s smile. The tall fat man glanced to the older woman for instruction.

“
Va bene.
I’ll take you to him.” She tossed her dark hair. “It’s okay, Gregieo. Make sure the girls stay in their rooms. Come with me,
Signora
Battaglia,” said the Madam. Elsa had to be in her early sixties, but she had the body of a thirty year old. And her dark locks looked to be dyed black to cover the grey. It was the wrinkles and moles to her face that revealed her age. She was the only woman that Marietta passed as they walked down the hall that wore appropriate clothing. The working girls were topless and some even bottomless.

Marietta gripped the gun with both hands. She kept her eye on Gregieo when she passed him.

“I was at your party two years ago. The one you had in Bellagio,” Elsa said.

“Were you? It figures that my husband would invite his whore to our wedding party,” Marietta said.

Elsa looked back at her. She smiled. “I’m an ex-employee, not his whore. I was Tomosino’s personal friend. If you’re curious I can tell you our story.”

“I don’t give a fuck!” Marietta said.

Elsa chuckled. “When you return to Melanzana please tell Don Giovanni the girls miss him. Since he’s been married we haven’t seen him. Tell him I said hello.”

“Where’s Lorenzo?”

Elsa stopped. “I’ve worked for Tomosino Battaglia for many years, and then Lorenzo. I’m a friend to the family, not an enemy of yours. Please show me respect. I assure you I’ve shown you respect since he arrived here. We’ve been taking care of him. That’s all the girls did.”

“Bullshit! I’m not stupid!” Marietta shouted. “Get out of the way.” She put the gun directly between Elsa’s eyes. The woman stepped aside and bowed her head. Marietta stared at the door. All of a sudden she couldn’t bring herself to enter. What if he was with another woman? What then? She had no plan for the disintegration of her marriage. Lorenzo was her life. She’d take his before she let him go. The heated stare of the old whore bore into her. Sure she was pleasant when she spoke, but the woman had the grace of a cobra. Cecilia was right. She was now in the devil’s den. When she looked over to the gypsy she could have sworn she saw admiration in her smile.

“You’re a tough one to come here. Alone,” Elsa said. “Will you shoot him?”

“I’ll fucking shoot you if you don’t stop talking to me,” Marietta pointed the gun at Elsa. And with a deep intake of breath she opened the door with her left hand. A brunette with deep olive skin and short brown hair sat up from the bed. She was topless. Her panty did little to cover her sex. She looked at Marietta and the gun. And then came the toilet flush. The woman slowly stood. Another door opened. Lorenzo walked out of what must have been the bathroom drying his hair. He was shirtless in dark slacks and bare feet. After a few steps into the room, his head lifted and he locked eyes with Marietta.

The tears came right before she pulled the trigger.

She hit the woman. She was certain by the way the girl dropped on the bed and screamed. There was blood. Marietta wanted to do more than hurt her. She fired again, and shattered the lamp a few inches from the woman. Terrified the woman dropped to the floor and scrambled to get under the bed, so Marietta fired at the bed before Lorenzo came for her. Marietta turned the gun on him and fired but it jammed. She un-cocked and released the bullet before she could be stopped.

He stopped in his tracks. He stood there frozen as she held the gun on him. She had meant to kill him. That was how bad the pain of his betrayal cut through her. Marietta wept, blinded by her rage. She shook her head in contempt. How could he hurt her so deeply? What had she ever done to deserve this? She’d never experienced so much misery at once. And under the roof of Octavio Leone she knew plenty of misery. Marietta gripped the gun tight with both her hands and shook all over. She’d make him pay. There was nothing left to them after this. And she knew she couldn’t live without him.

Lorenzo raised his hands slowly. He shook his head to someone behind her, and Marietta turned in time to point the gun at Nico and another of his men. When they arrived she wasn’t sure. Her head was spinning. Her chest hurt. She could barely catch her breath. And the damn tears would not stop long enough for her to have clear vision. She kept swinging the gun between Nico and Lorenzo. She felt like she was dying.

“Out. Get the fuck out!” she screamed at Nico until she went hoarse. “Now!”

“Vattene!”
Lorenzo said to his men. The men looked at him with concern and then to Marietta. They were unsure of the order. “Leave us. I can handle her.”

“Oh, you think so?” she swung the gun in Lorenzo’s direction.

The two men stepped back. Lorenzo ignored his plight. “Angela, come out from under the bed,” Lorenzo said. “Nico, make sure she gets medical attention.”

The woman screamed and shouted in a language Marietta didn’t understand.

“She comes out from under that bed and I’m going to kill her!” Marietta said.

Lorenzo smiled. He put his hand to his chest when he spoke. “This is between you and me, Marie. Let her go,
cara
.”

“No! You fucking bastard, you made it between the three of us. Don’t send her away now! I hate you!” she shouted.

“She’ll bleed to death!” he said. “You don’t want to kill anyone.”

“I don’t care!” Marietta screamed.

“Angela, come out. Now!” Lorenzo said.

The woman whimpered. She didn’t move. Lorenzo took a step toward Marietta and she pulled the trigger. The bullet hit something and it ricocheted. It shattered the window behind him. She intended to miss.

“She’s crazy!” The woman wept from under the bed.

“No, bitch, I’m quite sane! Come out and I’ll prove it,” Marietta wiped her tears with the back of her hand and kept the gun on Lorenzo.

To her surprise he went to the bed and shoved it aside to reveal the bleeding woman. Marietta had shot her in the arm. The woman scrambled for cover, but Lorenzo grabbed her up by the waist before she could scurry away. He forced her to stand upright. Marietta couldn’t believe he’d help the whore in her face. He shoved the woman toward the door and the girl didn’t stop. She ran for it. Marietta wanted to shoot her. She ached to do it. But how many bullets did she have left? She wanted to punish Lorenzo more, and then save one for herself.

“I don’t understand why you would do this to me. Hurt me like this!” she shouted at him.

“Her name is Angela. She works here, Marie,” Lorenzo said.

“I know what the fuck she is. What the fuck she does! I saw!”

“I didn’t touch her,” he said.

“You’re lying! She was in the bed. Naked!”

“
Dio mio!
Half the women here are naked. I am not lying. That’s you, the queen of lies!”

Marietta lowered the gun. She dropped her head and cried. He didn’t say a word to comfort her. And she hurt too bad to fight off his verbal attacks. She felt lost and confused. For a minute she didn’t even remember how she got there. The hysteria lessened. When she looked to him he stood there staring. His face was red and contorted with anger.

“I love you,” she said. “I did. I really did love you.”

He didn’t answer.

She sniffed. “So this is it? You don’t want to even try to fix our marriage? Ever?”

“How did you find me?” he asked.

“I hope that bitch gives you the mange and your dick falls off.” She dropped the gun. She turned and started for the door.

“I didn’t sleep with her,” he called out to her. “I wouldn’t do that to you, Marie.”

“Why not?” she asked. She crossed her arms and faced the door. “Because you care? A husband that cares doesn’t run out on his wife to a whorehouse for a week!”

“A wife that cares doesn’t sterilize herself because she doesn’t want to have her husband’s child!”

She whirled on him. “Sterilization? Birth control pills are not sterilization.”

“YES IT IS!” he shouted.

“I took them before I ever met you. Fuck you if you can’t deal with it!”