VINCENZO
I’m definitely drunk before midnight, stumbling around my apartment with jazz music blasting. I’m surprised I haven’t collapsed yet, given the horrendous events of this awful, long day. The cherry on top of my flat-Shirley-Temple-day is having to break up with the only woman I think I’ll ever have the ability to love. She agreed to it with very little fight, so much so, that I’m certain she doesn’t feel the same.
How could she? It’s just as she said to me before she stormed out of my office— I’m selfish, regardless of which way you cut it. Who could love someone as narcissistic, controlling, and devious as me? Apparently, I'm in my best company now. I take another gulp of whiskey like it's water. Not my drink of choice, but everything is flavorless when my mouth’s this numb.
I find my way to my bed and flop down on it, ensuring a round of dry heaving as the room begins to spin on the fulcrum of my head. As it comes to a stop, I relax my body, and my phone buzzes. Without looking, I already know it’s a reminder I set for myself. “Figure out who’s trying to kill you.”
All that time waiting in the hospital for Jessica to wake up forced me to watch Tom and Jerry. It wasn’t by choice, the remote only turned on the TV, and I couldn’t figure out how to change the channels. Anyway, it got me thinking about the incident, and I realized that Jessica protected me from being shot. I knew she had shielded me, but it didn't register that what that meant is someone was still out there, trying to kill me. It sounds hilarious that I hadn’t put that together until now, but I’ve been mentally incompetent since seeing Jessica die and come back that all I’ve been worried about from that point has been her safety.
It occurs to me that Barnes still hasn’t updated me on his rat hunt yet. It’s only been half a day, but I really need some sort of lead. After all, time is of the essence when someone’s making attempts on my life. I decide to give him a call because texting in my inebriated state proves more difficult than it should be.
“Good evening, sir.”
“Evening Barnes. Have we found our rat yet?” I try to sound as sober as possible.
“Not quite. I sent a few of your most trusted guys out on a scouting mission, but they haven’t reported back.”
“Scouting?”
“Yes, sir. Marty mentioned that at the dinner with your family last weekend, he overheard Carlito on his cellphone after dinner… talking about killing off the problem since the red-head failed at her only task.” I sit up, despite the swirling of the room.
“Carlito is in business with the Russians?”
“And the Russians have been trying to kill you. So, I have Marty and Bonnie scouting it out. I’ll call you in the morning with any updates.”
“No. Call me as soon as there’s an update. I don’t care what time it is.”
“Yes. Sir.”
After ending the call, I flop back down onto the bed, completely and utterly confused. I know Carlito has more sense than to make a deal with the Russians? Why would he do such a thing? Why would he want me dead? I really am trying to figure it out, but before I know it, I’ve fallen asleep.
* * *
At 3 am,my phone rings, and I awake from my drunken nightmares to answer.
“Yes?”
“Boss. It’s Marty.”
“Where’s Barnes?”
“They killed him.”
“What?! Who?”
“Carlito and the Russians. Bonnie and I were spying and got caught. Bonnie broke free and made it back to Barnes, who then came back to rescue me. He helped me escape, but Carlito shot him in the head as we left. He’s dead, boss. I don’t know what to do.”
“Okay. Slow down, Marty. Did Carlito recognize you?”
“Yeah. It’s why he kept me and shot Barnes. Fuck. We also spotted Special Agent Nicholas Fine of the FBI. He looked very chummy with them, talking about business shit.” He sounds as if he’s been running for miles. This news has sobered me, and I’m glad because I hate feeling out of control. I stand up and cross to the bathroom.
“Okay. I’ll deal with this. Thank you.” I set my phone on the sink, and I don’t know whether to cry or punch a hole through the fucking wall. My brother, betraying me? Killing one of my favorites and making deals with the Russians. If he’s put the X on me, he’s got a lot more coming for him than our entire gang. He’s got hell waiting for him on the other side of the bloodbath he’s enacted.
Carlito, the rat. I grind my teeth, making my jaw pop. The anger builds so aggressively that I’m shaking now, and I have to take a cold shower before I destroy everything in sight.
I turn on the water and hop in immediately, letting the icy stream stoke the flames seeping from every pore in my skin until I’m on my knees, fists to the ground, breathing deeply. In my turmoil, I allow myself to yell. I shake, pushing every last ounce of air I have out of my lungs until they are begging for me to take another breath. And despite my desire to fight it, I give in to the instinct and take a breath.
I don’t know how long I’m on the shower floor like this, but I don’t move until I’m sure I’m no longer catatonic. Eventually, I turn off the water and pick myself up off the floor, drying my body then changing into my custom Gucci suit. It’s the darkest black suit I own. It’s the only attire I deem appropriate, given the circumstances.