Giovanni
“I will pay off, I swear, I’ll find the money.” The unlucky retailer cowers against the counter, holding on to the edge for dear life, making the bottles of rum and tequila clink against each other. He’s sweating so much I can see the drops glinting on his temples, and his eyes are so big it looks as if they’re going to pop up any moment.
I scoff and look around the liquor store. It’s small and dirty, stinking of cigarette smoke and spirits. The shelves are half-empty, and the door looks like it hasn’t been touched in ages. As I look behind my shoulder, I catch San’s gaze and read silent approval. There’s nothing to get out of this one.
“Where are you gonna find them, huh?” I turn back to Michael and tilt my head, casually playing with the gun in my hand. “Do you have a
secret chest full of gold we should know about?”
Michael audibly swallows and shakes his head. “N-No, I-things have been getting better, I swear. Look!”
He moves all of a sudden, and I immediately raise my gun at him, making him freeze with his arm in the air.
“I just wanna show you my earnings,” Michael says with a trembling voice, struggling to keep it calm. One drop of sweat trickles all the way down his thick neck, and he shivers but doesn’t move his hands to wipe it.
I nod and gesture at the counter with my gun. “Go ahead.”
Michael glances at San and, after a second, continues moving at a much slower pace. He reaches over the counter, blindly opens a drawer, reaches in-I clench my jaw, watching his every movement-and takes out a handful of banknotes.
“Look, it’s just from last week! Give me a month, and I’ll pay-” I quirk an eyebrow. Is this a joke?
“Michael. You owe the Escarras twelve thousand bucks. Do you think this”-I glance at the banknotes that are worth no more than five hundred-“is going to save you?”
“I-I will sell more!”
“You said that last time.”
“I have new stuff in the back. Rum s-straight from Jamaica. Pure gold!” He clasps his hands into a praying gesture, looking at me with tears in his eyes. “Trust me, Giovanni, I will find the money.”
“You had a month to find it.” I raise my gun to his forehead. “And you failed.”
When San and I leave the store a few minutes later, it’s completely still and silent. The police will get rid of the body in the morning.
I bid San good night as if nothing happened-it’s just another day in my line of work, after all-and go to my motorcycle with my hands deep in my pockets. The night is dark and chilly, getting under my jacket with a gust of summer breath. It suits my mood, so I don’t complain and only shiver, pulling my shoulders up.
If only Alina was here, I’d feel so much warmer-I purse my lips and frown, staring at the cobblestone under my feet. She isn’t, and she
won’t be, so there’s nothing to think about. I’ve ruined the most important task of my life and the only relationship that truly mattered to me, and it’s time to accept it and move on.
Yes, after Alina left our apartment that day, I took some time to think about our situation and decided that it had gone in the wrong direction. It didn’t take long to realize that I’d developed actual feelings for her-the girl I was supposed to use to get closer to Riccardo and dump as
soon as my task would be done. How was I supposed to carry on with my mission? How could I reveal to her my true intentions without destroying everything we had?
The only answer I came up with was straight and simple: I should cancel the mission and give up on Alina altogether.
But I knew Gerardo wouldn’t like it-he would call me weak and would be right about it-so instead of calling it off, I told him and Isabella that I was waiting for the right time to get back with her. Alina needed time to process what happened that night, and I wouldn’t want to push her away by being too persistent.
It was a lie, of course. God, it was such a lie-because Alina was the one seeking me.
I could see all of her texts and calls, I listened to her voice in every voice message, and god, it broke my heart to hear how it changed over the weeks that followed. Alina was so shy and happy to leave the first message, but soon I could hear that she started to get worried. Perhaps she started to understand something. She would ask if I was in danger, if I was hurt, she would beg me to send her at least a single message to let her know that I was okay.
I hated myself, truly, I hated myself for every message that I had to ignore. Sometimes, I felt tempted to respond and continue my game till the very end-but how could I break her heart like that? Sometimes, I wanted to go to her house and reveal myself in hopes that she would understand me but how could I turn my back on my family like that?
The questions and doubts kept haunting me until, eventually, my phone went silent. Alina stopped texting me, stopped calling me, and I
should’ve felt relief. Instead, I felt stupid and heartbroken. Everything was wrong-but I didn’t know how to make it right, and I still don’t.
I sniffle from the cold air and climb on my motorcycle. Soon, it’ll be too cold to ride it, and the last memory connecting me to Alina will be-
My phone buzzes as if to make fun of me, and I consider ignoring it for a moment-my hands are cold and my heart is heavy, I’m definitely not in the mood to talk to anyone. But after all this thinking about Alina, I feel tempted to hear from her again. God, it’s so stupid! Still, I take off my glove and fish my phone out of my pocket.
It’s probably Isabella telling me to buy her some ice cream or When I see Alina’s name on the screen, I go still for a moment, just staring at it, before rushing to open it. It’s a voice message, and the first thing I hear when I hold the phone up to my ear is a stifled sob that makes my heart drop like a fucking bag of coins.
“Gio, I-I have to talk to you. I don’t know who else to go to because…well, there’s no one else, right?” She chuckles, but it sounds hysterical. “I really can’t talk about it on the phone, I-I don’t know what to do. I need to see you, Gio, please.”
And I don’t know what that note in her voice is but it sends chills down my back.
“I’m, uh, let me see…” I can hear her sniffling as she wipes her face, and her clothes rustle from her movement. “I’m at Irina’s place, so I can…I can meet you downtown. Maybe Lincoln Park? Ah, I don’t know. Tell me. Tell me where, and I’ll-”
The message ends abruptly, and the robotic voice in my phone offers to replay it.
God, what was that?
I stare at Alina’s contact on the screen while my mind frantically searches for an explanation. Did something happen? Did someone hurt her? Fuck, what if someone kidnapped her and is forcing her to talk to me? I go through a dozen different scenarios in my head, each worse than the others. Even if it’s a trap, I have to get her out of there, so I send Alina a message before taking off.
Lincoln Park is good.