Romeo of the Streets (20 page)

But Lana was insistent. That was the story and they were sticking to it and if Romeo even considered going over her head and complaining to their superiors about it, well she’d planned for that too. For weeks now Lana had been reporting on how worried she was about Romeo’s mental health out there on the streets, how stressful a job it was for her to look out for him while also keeping him in order and ensuring that the mission ran smoothly, so it was no wonder they were sympathetic to her plight—they had, after all, seen for themselves how he could be. If Romeo complained to anybody now, she promised that she’d report back to their bosses that he’d lost it, that she’d only come up with the plan so that she could keep a closer eye on him without jeopardizing the mission. And the worst thing was, he knew they’d believe it too.

The bargirl, Junie or Janie or something like that, finally approached and told them to go on upstairs—Sal had sent word that he wanted to see them in his office.

“See?” Lana smirked, as they made their way towards the spiral staircase up to the balcony, “he does want to talk business with me, you sexist
pig.”

Romeo ignored her. Something didn’t feel right here. Usually Sal would have wanted to entertain a pretty little thing like Sara on the VIP balcony where he could play lord of the manor and show off all his seedy little accomplishments. He only took things to the back office when there was serious business to take care of. Romeo let his awareness drift to the Glock 19 jammed down the back of his jeans and he hoped that he wouldn’t have to use it. It was still possible that the call to the back office was just a sign that Sal was taking the plan seriously. Only time would tell.

At the top of the stairs, standing on either side of the balcony entrance, was Ferret and Eyeball. They both smiled hungrily at Lana, making no effort to mask the fact that they were visibly checking her out. Even worse, it was clear that Lana was enjoying it, returning their gaze with salacious delight.

“Romeo my man,” Ferret said, “you’ve been holding out on us. Who is this angel?”

“Hey,” Romeo said, forcing a smile, “keep your hands to yourself asshole, this one belongs to me.”

“Of course,” Eyeball said, “we wouldn’t want to step on your toes or nothing. Miss, what was your name again?”

“Sara,” Lana smiled coyly, presenting him with her hand as she stepped up onto the landing, allowing Eyeball to guide her like the gentleman he most certainly was not.

“”Sara,” Eyeball repeated, “beautiful name. You can call me Eyeball.”

“That’s a funny nickname,” Lana smiled.

“It’s because I see everything,” Eyeball answered, his eyes directly in hers.

Ferret bobbed forward, eager to win back his share of the attention. “You should hear what they call me,” he said.

Romeo had had enough, he didn’t want to have to drag this farce out any longer than he had to. The longer they spent in the nightclub now, the more chances Lana would have to blow her cover. “Fellas,” he said, “Sara’s got a little plan that might make us all a lot of money. Let’s move on to the office to talk about it.”

They started walking towards the door to the back, Eyeball still holding Lana’s hand, placed daintily within his own. “Oh I know,” he said, “Sal told us all about it. You’re a very brave girl Sara…”

Romeo smiled and glanced back at him, trying to get a quick read on his face. Something wasn’t right here, he was sure of it now. “Well she’d have to be to go with me, wouldn’t she?” he said.

“That’s right babe,” Lana chipped in, sounding phony and awkward and even a little uneasy in her efforts to seem upbeat and girlfriend-like.

“You guys must really love each other, huh?” Eyeball said.

Up ahead Ferret held open the hallway door for them, the dingy yellow light spilling through into the darkness of the nightclub.

“We’ve got a lot of history,” Romeo said.

“That’s funny,” Eyeball continued, “because there was me thinking you was pretty head over heels about Lou’s sister, that little Sandy bitch. Seemed like every time I ever saw the two of you together you couldn’t keep your eyes off each other…” His grip now on Lana’s hand was tightening and she winced with pain.

That was it, it was now or never. They
knew
.

Romeo reached behind his back but Ferret’s hand was already there, the other gripping a knife that had suddenly appeared with almost loving precision against the soft flesh of his throat.

“Forget it,” Ferret said, pulling out Romeo’s pistol and cocking it against the small of his back, nudging him forward into the hallway. “Eyeball, you better frisk her.”

“With pleasure,” Eyeball smiled, shoving Lana forward too, the gun held in his other hand serving as adequate impetus to get her to behave as he began patting her down.

“Guys,” Romeo said, speaking slow and deliberate, “I don’t know what you think is going on here, but—”

“Shut the fuck up, rat,” Eyeball muttered, “your little game is over now.”

Before he had a chance to agree, Romeo felt the butt of his own pistol whip up from his lower back, lightning fast in Ferret’s hand, and bludgeon him on the back of the head. He dropped to the ground, legs like dust but still conscious, and covered his face as Ferret’s boot-heel rained down upon him, crushing into his face, shoulders and crown. He took at least three or four good blows to the skull before the lights went out and each time he cursed Lana for the stupidity that had brought them here.

In reflection, if I could go back in time knowing what I know now, I think I never would have let Romeo leave my apartment that night. I would have done something to make him stay, anything, even if it meant baring my heart and soul to him completely and confessing my love. It would have been worth it to avoid the bloodshed and tragedy that followed. But who am I kidding, even then I don’t think I was genuinely capable of baring my true desires even to
myself
, let alone anybody else. I guess I still had a lot to learn, so it was fitting perhaps that life had some very powerful lessons in store for me. And for those who survived the turbulent times ahead, I don’t think there was any one of us who remained unchanged.

So I couldn’t have him then—that was what I believed after he left my apartment that night—and even worse, perhaps it was only because I myself had claimed that I hadn’t wanted him in the first place. But that had been a lie, now I was almost ready to admit, and not only had it been a lie that I’d told to Romeo, it was also a lie that I’d been telling repeatedly to myself. I had never wanted to be just friends with him, no matter what I’d said. I had longed for his touch from the first moment I’d laid eyes on him in Gino’s café and if I’d known then that we would share a solitary kiss in that very same place, alone one magical night only a few short weeks later, I would have claimed indifference and I would have been lying then too. The fact was that I had never been so close to a man in all my life and deep down, even on that night, I’d known intuitively that it was one of the best things that had ever happened to me. Sure, there’d been other dates, other kisses (although admittedly not that many of them and not much of anything further than that) but this had been something far superior to anything else. What I could have had with Romeo was something so precious and rare that some people never even have the
chance
to shoot for it throughout their entire lives. Perhaps if I hadn’t been so inexperienced I would have recognized its true worth for what it was.

But on some level I think I
had
recognized it and the fact that I’d deliberately repressed my true and innocent desires beneath the force of implacable rationality meant that I had nobody but myself to blame. I had let him slip through my fingers all because of my own rigid ideas and expectations, even when every emotional fiber of my soul was singing to me that this man was good, that this man was pure. And the worst thing was, I’d been right. My intuition had been more correct than even Lou or Lisa or Gino could have guessed about Romeo Mancini. And it was Gino, perhaps surprisingly, who finally helped me see for myself the truth that my heart had known all along. Who would have guessed it?

So there I was, at a true crossroads in my life. On the one hand I could sweep up the pieces yet again, hastily glue them back together and then anxiously wait for the next time the men in my life charged headfirst into some new disaster of their own making, having learned nothing at all from the last time. Or—and perhaps this would be a first for me also—I could decide to do something drastic and for once let them know the truth of the world: that every action, big or small, good or bad, returns a consequence at least comparative in size. Maybe it was time to stop protecting the men I cared about from their own mistakes and instead just let them grow, even if it meant sacrifices for everybody.

But before I came to that conclusion I had to endure two long and painful days of deep introspection. In that time I had no contact with anybody (Rebecca seemed to have fallen off the face of the earth and I would find out later that she had by then already decided to give up her studies and return to Italy for good), save for a text message to Lisa in which I apologized to her and Lou and promised that I would see them both soon. But first I needed some time to think things through. Yes, much of what was happening in my life had been beyond my control, but not all of it and it was time now to accept my responsibilities and wield what choices I did have as wisely as I could.

Gino was family—not by blood but in every other sense of the word—and no matter what happened I was always going to stick by him. But I had to admit that it seemed like he’d spent his entire life making bad choices and letting other people clean up for him. And even after the terrible crimes committed on him by Sal and his gang (the crimes that—no matter how horrific—Gino himself had knowingly invited), I wasn’t sure that he’d truly learned his lesson. That was why I had decided that I would have to quit my job at the café. It wasn’t because I wanted to, but because I had to show him that there were consequences, that if he ever got involved with that crap again, the next time (if there even was a next time) I might quit more than just working for him. I might quit being his friend.

It was tough love—tough for me as well as for him—and it was something someone should have done for him a long time ago.

Still feeling a little depressed but bolstered now by the catharsis of having finally reached some profound and enlightening conclusions about my life, I made my way back to the Orange Grove for what would prove, unbeknownst to me then, to be one of the final few visits of my life. Spring was coming in early, returning with a gusto after a brief and fierce cold snap over the previous weeks, and some of the old timers were wearing their short-sleeved shirts and sun hats as they languidly made their way up and down the streets. The place was a pool of memories, not just for me but for everybody who’d ever lived there. A thousand past lives of love and longing and sometimes even true and lasting fulfillment were written on the old redbrick stones and concrete sidewalks.

A bell rang as I pushed my way through the clear glass door into Gino’s.

“Sandy! Are you feeling better?”

He barely limped these days, though he still used the walking stick (one of the many gifts and kindnesses my brother had shown him and which I had failed, perhaps, to give Lou due credit for) and he moved a little too fast as he came to greet me. Despite myself I couldn’t help but smile. Family had that affect.

“Hey Gino,” I said, “how are you?”

“Better now,” he winked. “Now that you’re here.”

I smiled and I think he must have seen the sadness in it, because his own smile faltered when I did. “I need to talk to you about some stuff,” I said, “will you make us coffee?”

Gino turned the open sign to closed, and we sat down to some rich Italian coffee and pastries. Gino may have been reckless but he was no fool and I could tell that he sensed this was serious.

“Gino,” I said, “you’ve always looked out for me and Lou. After our dad…”

“Luigi,” Gino said, “God bless him, wherever he is.”

“Well, let’s just say: we wouldn’t be who we are without you—and I mean that in a good way.”

“How else could you mean it?” Gino replied, though his smile seemed forced and failed to hide his gloom at the sense of what was coming next.

“But after your accident…” I looked at him levelly, mustering all of my strength to do so, “—and I know now that it wasn’t an accident at all but something you brought on yourself, through your own actions—after what that put us through… do you have any idea how horrible that was for us?”

“Sandy…” Gino said, reaching out to touch my hand.

“And we didn’t mind,” I continued, forcing myself to ignore him, “of course we didn’t. You’re family and we would have done anything to help you,
paid
anything. But then, after Lou and Romeo took care of your bills, to find out that you still owed money to those animals—to find out that it was them who’d done this to you in the first place…”