1
Francesca
Idon’t need eyes to understand women look at me every day, judging me, resenting me, and possibly wishing they were me. They think I’m a trophy wife for an elderly man, except I don’t wear a ring, nor do I have a husband.
It’s not customary for Italians to drive extravagant cars in Italy. I toss the keys for my Rolls Royce to the valet. I wink at him and make my way into the fancy boutiques like I own them.
It helps that I have a wardrobe that would have any fashion model peeing with excitement as I walk by tourists in my Givenchy shoes. There is nothing I cannot afford, well, that was until my funds were cut off. Sure I have some secret income, but the extra I get from being in the family, well, it adds up quickly.
I wander around the shop and refuse being helped. I’ll know the outfit when I find it. Eureka.
I find what I’m looking for and make a purchase before heading to my next stop. I pick up a cappuccino at the train station’s café and decide that a panini might not be a bad idea as the melted ham and cheese on fresh pressed bread on a plate next to me is too tempting to pass up. I have important errands to accomplish today, and shopping is my cover. The doors of the train close, making the noise of an airlocked pod that is waterproof. Which is funny because winter is our rainy season.
The train will take me to another town, and I watch the people on the platform disappear as we pull out of the station. The scenery changes from urban to empty fields in the countryside because farmers have harvested their crops. When we’re up to speed, it’s more of a blur and I play with my phone to pass the time.
I text my best friend Sophia and figure she’s not answering as she works in a café, and I remember the last time we were out together was my dad’s funeral a two months ago.
Has it been that long already?
His funeral was as unnatural as his death. People stood around to pay their respects dressed in black but there were no tears. My brother, Mario, whispered to the boss of the Calabrese family, as they are like two snakes in the grass. Only my brother is the mongoose, and Angelo Calabrese doesn’t know that— yet.
I’m aware that I’m a woman surrounded by sharks, and they look at me like I’m bait.
Not the ‘I want to fuck you’ type of bait. No, their eyes are filled with darkness and solemn faces that turn away every time our eyes meet. They are up to something sinister which is why I’m always looking over my shoulder.
Cowards. They may wear their tight shirts and show off their muscles, but they don’t know what I’m capable of. Only Dad knew and he liked to keep secrets.
I’m not privy to the changes that will be occurring in the wake of his demise, but I should be. My brother's moods’ change faster that the seasons. Summer is still here, and the earth is brimming with beautiful foliage representative of new life, but my world is bleak in comparison.
I can’t escape fast enough. I need to leave this compound of misery behind me.
Bastards.
What did I do to be treated as an outsider? I look out the window of the modern train as I remember how Sofia stood next to me. We both abhorred my father for his dealings in human trafficking. She’s a sweet girl, related to someone in the rank and file of families. She’s my only friend for as long as I can remember. She’s petite with straight brown hair and a pert nose I envy.
We met in middle school. She’s the only person I ever talked to about my life because she’s inside the organization as well. We found solace talking to each other about all the things we couldn’t share with anyone else.
That common denominator made us instant friends. And there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for her. We have to stick together especially since we’re both women in a male dominated environment.
She had put her arm through mine as we watched over what was left of my father being lowered into the ground. I'd noticed her extra thick makeup job to cover up the black eye she'd gotten that week and I regretted not having time to talk lately. I need to do something before he kills her.
Try as I might, she loved Guido and being young, she rushed into marriage last year. It’s a decision she regretted shortly after the honeymoon. I never date men in the ‘family’—it’s a rule I never break.
Besides, my Krav Maga instructor was not only a great guy, but an attentive lover. My only real lover. The time I spent with him was the only time I let my guard down but not the guard around my heart.
I became an expert at martial arts and any means of defense I thought would come in handy. To me, my mentor provided sanctuary. My family doesn’t need to know about him. And in that respect, he is protected, and I only share tidbits about my personal life. No one ever gets the entire story.
He knows I have a dark past and have been knocked around and that rage is powerful enough for me to hurt someone if I want to, even without a gun.
Dad’s untimely death triggered many things. There will be a battle for a new don, and my position has already changed. I’m not the daughter of a don if he’s dead. I’m no one and that was made clear to me after his death when I wasn’t allowed to visit the girls in their squalor ‘safe’ house. The girls that are a commodity. Traded, bartered and worse. Forced into prostitution they are hooked on drugs, and they will never be the same even if they can escape. But no one ever escapes.
I was pissed when I heard a rumor that the girls are off-limits to me now. That, and the building tension between Sofia and Guido escalated my own anger issues and the current way I’m feeling is that I have nothing left to lose. Mom left with a man she loved for years and had to repress so I’m alone. Mom won’t suffer from my actions, seeing as how she left after the funeral.
I’d love nothing more than to beat Guido to a pulp, but these matters are to be kept in house and I’m not exempt from following family rules. My brothers are not to be trusted, and I must be careful how far I push the limits of their non-existent patience.
I showed Sofia some defense moves but she’s not me. We both knew she was fucked but neither of us said it. As a last resort, I suggested she try to make him happy. But we all know that men who beat women don’t do it because they are unhappy, it’s control. The type of control that is subtle in the beginning, a sentence here and there that one makes allowances for. Then, as time goes on, the realization hits that everything out of his mouth is demeaning.
I wish he would fuck up with the family so they could take care of the problem for us. Sofia isn’t part of our inner circle so there was no protection from my dad, or as it stands now, the Calabrese family.