The Beautiful People (26 page)

I shook my head at
Dominic’s silliness as I walked down the hall to our bedroom. My ponytail swung
back and forth like a pendulum. The sweatshirt was yanked off before I even
walked into the bedroom. The shower was calling my name.

Hot water coursed over
my body and rinsed the sweat off. The heat relaxed my muscles and the
exhaustion from missing a night of sleep set in. Dominic came into the bathroom
and leaned against the vanity.

“Hey
baby?” he asked.

“Yeah?”
I answered as I rinsed the conditioner out of my hair.

“Wanna
go to the haunted house thing at Eastern State Penitentiary tomorrow night?”

“Sure,
that sounds awesome! I hear it’s really scary.” Dominic and I both like horror
movies and anything paranormal. We were looking forward to the costume party at
Crimson. Apparently everyone went all out for it. We were going to dress up as
Frankenstein and the Bride of Frankenstein. In the past my Halloween costumes
were lame because I was always broke, but that wasn’t going to be the case this
year.  

“Cool,
I’ll make the arrangements,” he stood up to leave the room, but not before
peeking in the shower first. I splashed water at his bare chest and he laughed
as he attempted to dodge the droplets. He was still laughing when he left the
room.

A line wrapped around
the corner of Eastern State Penitentiary. The old prison was modeled after
ancient European castles and looked out of place on Fairmount Avenue. The
neighborhood had grown around it and the fortress loomed over the row homes and
businesses that surrounded it. Parking was hard to find, but Dominic expertly
navigated his Mustang into a space on a narrow, one way street, that looked
like it might have been an alley at one point.  We had to walk several blocks
to the Penitentiary. Even though it was almost ten at night, and a Tuesday, the
line was long. I walked up to stand in line, but Dominic grabbed my hand and we
continued walking past the crowd to the front.

“What
are you doing?” I asked and tried tugging him back. You didn’t want to cut in lines
in Philadelphia because the residents were quick to turn on you and not afraid
to express their opinion on the matter.

“My
Dad knows the accountant…we don’t have to wait,” he informed me.

“Figures.
That is so typical.” I said and rolled my eyes. Laughing, Dom walked up to the
ticket taker at the entrance and handed him a card. The guy waved us through. I
could hear the people waiting in line start to grumble so I hurried through.

“This
is one of the reasons I could never leave Philly; the connections make
everything so easy,” Dominic gloated. Ever since our little argument, Dominic
had picked up the annoying habit of pointing out everything that was fabulous
about living in Philadelphia. He could have worked for the Chamber of Commerce.

We proceeded down a
corridor that seemed endless. I could barely see in front of me and creatures,
ghouls and psychopaths lurked in every corner and shadow. I clung to Dom and
screamed at every sudden movement. The thrills left me feeling queasy and
nervous – I loved it. By the end of the tour, we were laughing at our
ridiculousness. Even Dom jumped and got spooked. I continued to hang on his arm
as we walked to a corner bar for a quick drink. A cool wind had picked up and
Dom’s warmth felt nice.

The bar was packed too.
Many of the patrons had been to the Penitentiary and were sharing stories. Dom
found us a table in the back where it was quiet. “I know the owner,” he
explained. Of course he did. He held my hand across the table and only took his
eyes off of me to order our drinks.

“That
was fun, wasn’t it?” he asked.

“Oh
my God, that was so realistic. They really know how to do it up. I thought that
place was creepy enough during the daytime.”

“Philly
has so many cool places,” he started in on the marketing pitch again.

“Dom,
I’m not going anywhere, you don’t have to try to convince me to stay. You sound
like a damn tourism commercial for the city.”

He
smiled, his green eyes twinkling. “Was it that obvious?”

“Uh,
yeah!” I couldn’t help but laugh at him. Where he got these notions was beyond
me.

We took our time
sipping our drinks. I enjoyed not being at a bar surrounded by Crimson people.
The change of scenery was refreshing. When we got up to leave, Dom left a generous
tip on the table for the waitress before we squeezed our way through the
crowded bar.

Outside, the
neighborhood was quiet. We huddled close against the wind as we walked the few
blocks to the car. The narrow street was dimly lit and most of the houses were
dark, indicative of the late hour. Dom held the door open for me and shut it as
soon as I was settled in the passenger seat. I busied myself with the seatbelt
and getting comfortable. Dom slid in and turned the key in the ignition. The
engine roared to life. Headlights were coming down the road and he sat, waiting
for the car to pass before he pulled out. I bent down to scratch my ankle when
I heard a car backfire. I thought it was the car coming down the street because
it was close. The car backfired again and the driver’s side window imploded.
Shards of glass flew through the air in slow motion. I stared at the sparkling
fragments, confused. A series of bangs erupted around me. Dominic made an odd
gasping sound and slumped against the steering wheel. Something wet splattered
against my face.

I screamed and sunk
down in the seat. A bullet whizzed by my ear. Had I not moved, it would have
hit me. My window shattered and I was showered in glass. Dominic groaned and
clutching his neck, leaned over to the glove compartment. He made another
grunting sound and he fell forward against me. That’s when I saw a dark green
sedan stopped alongside the Mustang. Both the driver and passenger were firing
rounds into the car. I could hear the bullets punching into the steel chassis.
We were vulnerable and exposed. I popped open the glove compartment and pulled
out Dominic’s handgun. My experience working the gun check taught me how to
release the safety and prepared me for the surprisingly dense weight of the
piece.

Without hesitation I
started firing back. The sound was deafening. Amazingly, I hit the guy in the
passenger seat. He yelped, dropping his piece onto the street. The driver fired
a few more rounds and I felt a searing pain in my right shoulder, causing me to
almost drop the gun. Lights appeared in the second story windows of several
homes, but no one ventured out. This was good, my aim was terrible and I would
hate to hit someone with a stray bullet. I fired off one last bullet and it was
a direct hit. The passenger’s face looked surprised and his lips formed an “O”
before his eyes went vacant and blood started to ooze from a tiny hole in his
forehead. He crumpled against the driver who shoved him over, put the car in
drive and sped off.

The neighborhood was
eerily quiet, but more lights were coming on. Adrenaline rushed through my
veins as I contemplated my next move before hysteria and shock took over. I
needed to get us out of here.

“Dom,
baby? Can you hear me?” He moaned and tried to sit up. Instead he rolled over
so his head was in my lap. He was struggling to breath and making a horrible
sucking sound every time he inhaled. He was still holding his neck and staring
up at me. “We need to go,” he wheezed. I nodded and cradled his head while I
slid out from beneath. My fingers were sticky with blood when I removed them
from his head.

My shoulder burned, but
I ignored the pain. I only had a few seconds to act before someone came out of
their house or the cops showed up. I jumped out of the car and ran round to the
driver’s side. After throwing my back into it, I succeeded in shoving Dom over
enough for me to get behind the wheel. Thank God the car was already running
because my shaking hands would never have been able to get the keys in the
ignition. I threw the car into drive and pulled out onto the street. As soon as
I was clear of the parked cars, I floored it. One bad thing about Dom’s car was
that it was a classic and very identifiable. I needed to get off the roads fast
and get Dom to a hospital even faster.

Dom curled up on the
seat and I kept one hand on him with the other on the steering wheel, paying
more attention to the sounds of his breathing than the road. I don’t know how
many red lights I ran. At least the side streets weren’t policed as often as
the main roads, like Broad St. I fished Dominic’s cell out of his jacket
pocket. It took me three tries to dial Grant’s number.

He answered on the
fourth ring. “Yo, Dom, what’s up?”

“Grant!”
I screamed. Just hearing his voice was causing me to fall apart and I couldn’t
afford to lose it yet. “Dom’s been shot! He needs to go to the hospital.” I
cursed the tears that were pouring down my face and blurring my vision.

Grant
was all business. “Where are you?”

I could barely make out
the street signs as I passed through an intersection. I just went past Sansom,
I’m heading south on 12
^th
St. I’m taking him to Pennsylvania
Hospital.”

            “No you
can’t do that!” He yelled. “The cops will be all over him.”

            “But I
think he’s dying!” I yelled back at him.

            “Come to our
house. I’ll be out front.”

            “Stay on
the phone with me. I don’t know if I can make it.” Grant stayed on the phone
and spoke in a calm, rational voice, which helped me to focus on the road. A
hell of a lot of good it would do if I wrecked the car.

The Mustang screeched
to a halt in front of Grant and Miranda’s townhouse, Grant was already running
into the street, Miranda right behind him, her face pinched and pale with
worry.

            “Get in the
back,” he ordered. I complied and clumsily climbed over the seat as Grant took
over behind the wheel. Miranda opened the back door and sat down next to me. I
was covered in blood. It was hard to tell which was mine and which was Dom’s.

Miranda gasped.
“Natalie, you’ve been shot too!” She leaned over to inspect the damage. Grant
whipped his head around to look.

            “What! Holy
shit, are you ok?”

            “I’m fine,”
I snapped. “Just pay attention to the road.” Grant was speeding through South Philly,
the neighborhoods whizzed by in a blur. My shoulder ached and I felt sick to my
stomach.

            “I need to lie
down,” I whispered, feeling faint. Miranda helped me and guided my head onto
her lap. She ran her hands through my hair, picking out bits of glass, the
repetitive motion was comforting. My pulse beat loudly in my head and everything
shifted in and out of focus.

“I
killed someone,” I murmured.

“What
Nat? What did you say?” Miranda was leaning down over me.

“I
killed someone,” my voice sounded very far away. The adrenaline was wearing
off, being replaced by shock and making my eyelids heavy. Then everything went
black.

I woke when the Mustang
slammed to a stop and Miranda got out. A chorus of panicked voices filled the
car and I felt it rock. I managed to open my eyes enough to see Dominic being
lifted out by his father and Dr. Russo. Then the door by me opened and Grant
was peering in at me.

            “Can you
walk?”

            “Yeah, I
think so.”

He held his hand out
and I latched on. He half pulled me out of the car and my legs shook when I
stood. Dizziness swirled around my head and I felt myself getting sucked under
again. I remembered Grant swearing before he scooped me into his arms.

Voices faded in and
out. Two men were arguing and then a woman was crying. Just as I was making
sense of the words, unconsciousness wrapped its arms around me again. Time
passed and I hovered just underneath the surface. My shoulder was on fire, a
slow burn that steadily built until it felt like millions of hot needles were
jabbing repeatedly, deep through the muscle and tissue. Eventually the pain
forced my eyelids open.

The room was brightly
lit and hurt my eyes. I quickly closed them and slowly eased my eyelids open,
allowing time to adjust. I looked around the room and realized I had been here
before. I was lying on the examination table in Dr. Russo’s office. The door
was open and I could hear hushed voices drifting down the hall. I attempted to
sit up, but between the searing pain in my shoulder and the pounding in my
head, I was immobilized.

            “Hello?” I
called out. The voices stopped and I could hear someone running down the hall.
Grant appeared in the doorway. His long sleeved, blue shirt was stained with
patches of dried blood. He looked anxious and exhausted.

            “Hey,” I
smiled weakly.

            “Natalie,
you’re awake!” Grant came and stood by my side. “How do you feel?” he asked
while studying my face.

            “I feel
like I’ve been hit by a train…how’s Dominic?”

            “It was
touch and go there for a while, but Dr. Russo worked his magic. Dom was shot in
the neck and it nicked his carotid artery. He was close to bleeding out.  He
also took a bullet in the chest and it collapsed his lung. Fortunately, he’s
stable now.” Relief washed over me.

            “How long
have I been out?”

            “Almost a
day. Dr. Russo kept you sedated so you wouldn’t move around too much. You’re
lucky, the bullet passed clean through your shoulder.”

            “If I was
lucky I wouldn’t have been shot in the first place.” He smirked like I had just
made a funny. I hadn’t.

            “Natalie,
what the hell happened? Did you see who shot at you?” His questions triggered
too many bloody memories and I started to tremble. I closed my eyes, hoping to
block the images, but they were in my head and closing my eyes didn’t make a
difference. “You don’t have to tell me now, but I will need to know
eventually,” he said when I didn’t respond to his questions. I nodded my head
in acknowledgement. Just this slight movement made the pounding worse.  

Grant must have seen
the pain register on my face. “Dr. Russo will be in soon. He’s checking on
Dominic right now.”

 I opened my eyes and
looked at my brother. “Dominic is here?”

            “Yeah. We
couldn’t take him to the hospital. Fortunately Dr. Russo is a great doctor.
He’s in the next room.”

I reached my hand out
towards Grant. “Help me up.”

            “What?” he
asked sounding surprised.

            “Help me
up,” I demanded. “I need to go see him.” I winced as I tried to sit up and
inhaled sharply. It wouldn’t surprise me if my arm just fell off.

            “I don’t
think you should be moving.” He warned as he grabbed me around the waist and
helped me off the exam table. I thought the floor was going to rush up and meet
me, but Grant kept a firm grip on my good arm. “You are so stubborn,” he
grumbled.

            “And you’re
not?” He grinned at the return of our brother sister banter and helped me to
the door.

Dr. Russo wasn’t the
only person checking on Dominic. His mom and dad sat in chairs by his bedside. Dom’s
mom, Angela, held his hand and leaned forward towards him. She didn’t look up
when we entered the room, but Rico did.

            “Natalie!”
He gave me a light hug, careful not to bump the sling. “How are you feeling?”
He whispered, careful not to disturb Dominic.

            “I’m good
considering…I’m more worried about Dom. How’s he doing?”

            “Alright. he
hasn’t regained consciousness yet, but Dr. Russo has him pretty well sedated.”
We all turned to look at the patient of interest. Unlike my exam table, Dominic
lay on a hospital bed and was hooked up to a heart monitor and an IV. Both
saline and blood dripped down tubes that led to his arm. Rico turned back to
face me. “Thank you, Natalie, for saving him. I don’t think he’d be here right
now if it wasn’t for you.” Rico’s green eyes, so much like his son’s, misted up
with tears.

            “What
happened?” Angela asked from Dominic’s bedside.

It took me a minute to
answer. I felt the blood drain from my face and felt dizzy when I thought about
the man I had killed. Grant must have seen me waver and reached out to steady
me. “I’m okay,” I reassured him. Dominic’s parents deserved an explanation.
After all, if he hadn’t defended my honor, he wouldn’t have had a hit out on
him and he wouldn’t be lying there unconscious. I took a deep breath and began.
 By the time I finished I was shaking uncontrollably and Grant guided me to a
chair. Reliving that night was awful and had drained what little energy I had.

Angela regarded me with
her eyes, dark like molasses. “You’re very brave, braver than I could have been
in that situation.” I nodded my head. Brave or not I had still killed a man.
“Thank you for saving my son.”

            “I think he
would have done the same for me.”

Angela’s eyes flickered
slightly and she glanced sideways at Rico. “Of course he would,” she agreed,
but it didn’t sound sincere.

The pounding in my head
increased so I leaned back and closed my eyes.

            “Natalie,
let me take a look at you.” I looked up to find Dr. Russo was standing over me.
“On a scale of 1 to 10 how would you describe your pain level? 10 being the
worst.”

            “My
shoulder is about a seven and my head a four. Did I bump my head and not
remember?”

            “No the
sedative can give you a headache when it wears off. Did you want some more pain
medicine?”

            “No. I’ll
be fine.” I didn’t like how cloudy the pain meds made me feel. It was hard to
stay focused on anything. The pain gave my thoughts clarity. I thought about
how different my reaction was to this traumatic event. When I was assaulted all
I wanted to do was mask the pain with alcohol or drugs. This time I needed to
keep my head on straight.

Dr. Russo escorted me
back to my room for a more thorough exam. He removed the bandages from my
shoulder and I hissed as the tape tugged against the raw skin. He cleaned the
wound, which was an agonizing process and I clenched my jaw tight to keep from
screaming.

            “How’s your
friend? The one that I treated the last time you were in here?” Dr. Russo asked
as he examined my wound.

            “She’s…she’s
dead,” I stammered, the last part coming out in a hoarse whisper.

Dr. Russo set down the
gauze and iodine bottle and looked at me. Small, silver glasses framed his
eyes, which were kind and sad.

            “I’m sorry
to hear that. Do you mind if I ask how she died?”

            “Suicide.”

            “Ah, such a
shame. She couldn’t get past that night could she?”

            “No.”

            “And now
you’re in here with a gunshot wound,” he turned away to remove the surgical
gloves and wash his hands in the small sink. “That’s how the mob works. Once
you’re in their grasp, it’s hard to escape.”

He said this with such conviction;
I suspected he too was trapped. Curious, I waited for him to face me again
before I asked, “Are you speaking from personal experience?”

Dr. Russo glanced at
the closed door. “Yes, you could say that,” he answered in a hushed voice. “I
used to have a thriving private practice up on the Mainline.” I’d only been up
to the Mainline once. The affluent suburb was beautiful and reeked of wealth.

            “What happened
to it?”

            “I have a
gambling problem and racked up quite a bill with Marco. I lost everything: my
wife and kids, the house. I managed to convince Marco I would be an asset to
his organization. He agreed and I walked away with my life and medical license.”

            “Surely
you’ve paid off your debt?”

            “Probably,
but I’ve seen and heard too much. The Hippocratic Oath doesn’t mean anything to
Marco.”

            “So you
have this South Philly practice instead?”

            “Yes and I
see my kids every other weekend. Although they’re both in high school now and
don’t come as often.” Dr. Russo sighed. “You seem like a nice girl, Miss Ross.
I’m sorry for this trauma you’ve endured.” Dr. Russo patted my good shoulder. It
was more of a fatherly gesture than a clinical one.

            “Thanks,
but none of this is your doing.”

            “I think
you’re well enough to go home. I don’t see any signs of infection and your bed
at home is probably more comfortable than this.” He lightly slapped the side of
the examination table I was perched on. I couldn’t imagine anyone taller than
me being able to sleep on it. Their feet would hang off the edge.  “I want you
to come by on Monday so I can take another look.” He handed me written
instructions on how to care for my wound and a white paper bag, like what you
would pack a school lunch in, that was full of gauze, antibacterial ointment
and a lot of pain reliever.

            “How long
until Dominic is able to come home?” I asked.

            “Well, it’s
hard to say. He lost a lot of blood and was in shock. Once he regains
consciousness I’ll know more.”

            “Shouldn’t
he be in a hospital?” I asked, hoping I didn’t offend the kind man.

            “Yes, he
should. Nobody wanted to hear it. I argued with them for close to an hour, but Marco
refused. His parents listened to Marco. End of story.” It didn’t surprise me
that Marco had something to do with it.  Dr. Russo helped me down off of the
exam table. “Your brother will take you home. Please take it easy and don’t
exert yourself. We really need to stop meeting like this,” he said with a
smile.

     He left the room
so I could get changed. Someone had brought me clean clothes; a soft, cotton
button down shirt and sweat pants. I didn’t recognize them and assumed they
were Miranda’s since we wore the same size.  I was relieved to get out of the
hospital gown and into the comfortable outfit. I winced a few times as I
slipped my injured arm into the shirt sleeve, but managed to put it on and the
fabric was soft enough, it didn’t irritate my injury. Thank God I didn’t have
to put on a bra, that would have been near to impossible and torture.

Clutching the paper bag
and my purse in one hand, I walked down the hall to the waiting room. Grant was
dozing in one of the plastic chairs. I hadn’t noticed until now just how ragged
and run down he looked. He must not have slept since I pulled up in front of
his house like a NASCAR driver pulls into the pit. I nudged his foot with mine
and he jerked awake. His eyes were bloodshot, usually how he looked after
smoking a joint, but I knew he wasn’t high.

            “Hey, the
doc released me, ready to take me home?”

            “Yes, sure.”
He stood up and took the bags from my hand.

            “Thank you
Dr. Russo,” I said as we were almost out the door. “Oh, wait! How much do I owe
you?”

            “It’s
already been taken care of, you just focus on healing,” he answered from behind
the small reception desk.

            “Oh. Okay,
thanks!” I waved with my good arm and followed Grant out into the street. The
sun burned my eyes and I had to squint and catch my bearings. Grant went ahead
and pulled his Lexus up to the curb. He hopped out and helped me into the car.
I felt like a helpless child as he fastened the seatbelt for me.

Grant spoke to me as
soon as he was driving down the street. “Natalie, I am so sorry you were shot.
I should never have gotten you a job at Crimson.”

            “Grant,
please don’t blame yourself. You warned me and I didn’t listen,” I placated
him.

            “I thought
I could keep you out of the major stuff and you would have a job until the end
of summer…you know save up some money? It all went wrong so fast and spun out of
my control. You getting shot is my fault; if Dom and I hadn’t killed Luigi and
his boys, this would never have happened.” I could see the torment on his face.
Grant was always going to be my protective big brother; I just didn’t realize
how much he was shouldering the blame.