Title: Taken By the Mobster
Arianna
I push the accelerator down, and my car thunders. It’s a mighty sound that dwarfs the cars on either side of me. Oh, they try to make their voices heard, but my Tia is feisty, loud, and rambunctious, all the things I am in life. People thought I’d probably get a bright pink car, but my souped-up Chev Impala is a beautiful matte black with a thin gold racing line down her body. The words: Cup Cake are stenciled in gold down my driver’s door. It’s the term of endearment my father called me growing up. I was always his Cup Cake, always two words, not one. He’d sometimes pause in the middle when calling me, I don’t know why but it would make me giggle.
At twenty-five, though, all five foot six of me likes being in what my oldest brother considers a death trap on wheels. My black hair is braided down my back. Most drivers wear a helmet, but I only do that when I’m unfamiliar with the track. The industrial area just outside of Brooklyn is not unfamiliar territory to me at all. In fact, my family owns most of the warehouses down here.
A beautiful, much more petite blond in a busting boob tube and too-tight leather chaps walks to the safe point between the three cars lined up, with me in the middle.
I rev my car again to spook her a little, and I don’t miss the briefly sour look she gives me before she dons that perfect Alabama smile, small white teeth almost sparkling in the high beams of the cars parked around us.
She raises her hand with a handkerchief, and I can feel my pupils dilate in concentration. I squeeze and rotate my hands on the steering wheel, checking my grip. She suddenly drops her arm, and I punch the accelerator.
Jarrod, driving the Mustang to my right, pulls in front of me by a fraction, and Hans, who drives the GTI to my left, falls behind me.
This will not stand.
I don’t do second place.
But I have an advantage that Jarrod doesn’t. I’m intimately familiar with where the roads are broader and where they narrow. I’ve been driving through this area since I could operate a golf cart to get from one of my family’s warehouses to the next.
I feint left, and Jarrod turned left. I feint right, and he follows. He’s not going to let me pass him easily. Although, I don’t mind if my ride gets a few scratches, and I can’t say the same about his feelings for his car.
I feint right and jerk left as we round a particularly open corner. He doesn’t quite buy it, but I manage to gain enough speed that he can’t get me back without causing a crash.
The radio in my car starts crackling, “We’ve got pigs.
We’ve got pigs coming in hot. Bail! Everyone bail!”
I pick up the receiver and hit the side button, “Not until I fucking win this.”
Han’s voice comes over the static, “I’m out. I forfeit.”
I hit the button again, “What’s it going to be, Jarrod?”
“I’ll leave you and the cops in my dust, cupcake,” he says arrogantly.
I deliberately fall behind him, and as he moves to occupy the space I leave to prevent me from pulling up again, I pull to the right and overtake him, clipping the front of his car. I hear him swearing at me over the radio, but above that, I hear sirens in the distance, even over my thunderous engine. As I fly past the finish line, a few stragglers hang out of their cars. I don’t wait to see if they leave. I radio in, “I’ll be back to collect my winnings, don’t spend them.”
I fly between two warehouses as the cops pull into the area through the gates to my left. There’s a gap in the chain link fence just big enough on this side, and I doubt they even register that I’ve raced out past them.
No, unfortunately, they did register my move. I look in my rearview mirror to see two cop cars turning around to give chase.
“Sorry, boys, I got bigger fish to fry,” I change gear and go through two red lights before I turn right, then left, and soon I’m on the highway heading back toward the estate where we live.
I keep my speed down once I’m far enough away from the cops following me. I don’t want to attract any more attention.
I pull into the hidden driveway, not the main one, and use my clicker to open the gate. Once in, I open the garage door and pull Tia into her parking space. Next to her is my lime green Honda Civic, also modified, and next to that is my Camaro in dark purple.
I climb out of my car and flip my braid over my shoulder. At some point in the race, it had flown over my shoulder to fall down my right side. I stretch, and as I raise my hands above my head to get a good long stretch in, a light suddenly floods the garage.
I look to where the door that leads to the kitchen is, and Carmine, my brother’s best mercenary, is standing there with his hand near the light.
“Home late, I see? Was it worth it?” he asks. Taking the two steps down, he walks toward me, chuckling.
“I won if that’s what you’re asking. Also, I didn’t get caught this time.” I bat my eyelids at him, and he gives a deeper chuckle. The hair on the back of my neck stands on end as though electricity is coursing through my body. Our eyes meet, and he holds my gaze. I look deeply into his eyes. He comes closer to me. “Well, that’s good news. I’d hate to give your brother the news if you did.”
“If you did what?” Alessandro’s voice shatters the spell that seems to have befallen us, and I look over Carmine’s shoulder. I just see the top of Alessandro as Carmine is six feet, so I look up at him the same way I look up at my six-foot brother.
“If I got taken in by the police again,” I say casually.
Carmine steps aside as Alessandro approaches. “Why do you insist on sneaking out at all hours of the night to race cars illegally?”
“Because I like it, and what I like, I get,” I tease with a grin. “Besides, what else is there to do if I’m not allowed to be involved in the family business,” I add.
Alessandro ignores my comment, and I know I’m not in trouble because a small smile plays on his lips. “How much did you win?”
“Three thousand,” I comment. “I have to pick it up tomorrow.”
Alessandro kisses my forehead. “Hmm, of course, you do. And if I were a gambling man, which sometimes I am, I’d wager you’ll use that as a buy-in to another race, probably tomorrow.”
“I’ll take the Camaro. You know I don’t race that baby,” I say with a grin. “Now, if you gentlemen will excuse me,” I glance at Carmine, who has a sweet smile as he watches me, “I need to get to bed. I’m obviously somewhat sleep-deprived from being up so late.”
Alessandro chuckles. “Go home, Carmine. I’ll see you tomorrow at lunch.”
Carmine nods. “Sure thing, boss. Have a good night.”
I can’t help but wonder if he stayed so late because he was waiting to see me. I grin as I walk to my room, closing the door behind me. A bit flustered, once I’m between the cold sheets of my bed, I close my eyes and picture Carmine’s smile.
Carmine
I’ve never been a church fan, mainly because of the line of work I’m in. I don’t like the idea of any deity judging what I do, regardless of why I do it. I go, though, because we’re expected to keep up appearances. I sit behind my boss, next to my best friend, Dominic. As the priest is praying, when our heads are supposed to be bent and our eyes closed, I glance over to the row in front of me to the right. Arianna has her head bowed, but her eyes aren’t closed. She has those beautiful blue-gray eyes. The Sorvino eyes, but somehow on her, it’s different.
I’ve loved Arianna since I was a child, not that I would ever admit that to anyone. Her brothers would surely put a bullet in my head if they knew what I was thinking about their sister. I would never act on those feelings. I am loyal to the Sorvinos. They have been my family since my parents died when I was young.
They died, but not before exposing me to an endless amount of trauma. The abuse still shows as physical scars on my body. They’re faint now but still there to remind me how grateful I should be Romero took me in. They are my family now.
Still, I can’t see Arianna as my sister. She’s always been more to me, and I think, on some level, her brothers know that I would die to protect her. But I can’t cross a certain line.
The service ends, and I wait as the front pew files out before I follow behind. Dominic sighs heavily and whispers, “Every Sunday, it feels like this takes longer and longer.”
“I know,” I whisper back. “It’s so painful.”
“At least there’s food waiting at home,” Dominic says cheerfully.
We thank the priest as we exit, gripping his hands briefly. Alessandro is standing off to the side, lighting a cigar. We move over to join him. I glance up as Arianna moves toward the vehicles with Helena and some of the other females of the family. Katya, Alessandro’s wife, was among them. The women are going ahead to make sure everything was ready for lunch.
“Carmine, care for a cigar?” Romero offers me, standing next to his son.
“Thank you,” I say, taking the thick cigar from him. I clench it between my teeth as he lights it, inhaling.
“We have business to attend to after lunch,” Alessandro comments.
“Not while we’re at church,” Romero chides him. Alessandro might be Don now, but he still minds his father on certain matters, like church. He doesn’t apologize, though. He would never do that.
We stand and smoke, talking about baseball and football. I don’t say much. I observe our surroundings, ensuring no one will try to take out my family while their guard is down at church.
Soon enough, we are clambering into vehicles and on our way back to the estate.
The women rush around the tables in the garden, putting out loaves of bread and various snacks as the men stroll in. Some stand in groups and speak while others find their places to sit and talk.
Kira, one of the older cousins, bumps into me by accident and blushes. “Oh Carmine, it’s so nice to see you again. Are you working out more than usual?”
She’s trying to flirt. The cousins always try and flirt, but I’m not interested. I used to make more effort in my twenties when I was more flexible with my feelings, but now I don’t feel the necessity.
“Hi, Kira,” I say, giving her a gentle smile. I don’t want to hurt her feelings after all. “Just the same as usual.”
“Well, you look great.” She tucks a curl behind her ear only for it to escape again and hang in her eyes.
“Careful, Kira,” Dominic says, joining us. “This player will break your heart into pieces.”
He claps me on the back, and I roll my eyes. I’m about to tell him off when Alessandro gives a hearty chuckle. “Better Kira than our sister. Carmine could use some settling down, I think.”
Dominic laughs, and Romero comes through to the garden. “What’s so funny?”
“We’re trying to marry Carmine off to Kira,” Dominic says.
Poor Kira is now crimson and hurries off. “Aw, I was just joking,” Dominic calls after her.
I look at him. “Who breaks whose heart? Good job, dumb ass.”
If he weren’t my best friend, if this weren’t an informal family setting, I’d be put in a world of hurt. But he is my best friend, and we’re joking around.
He chuckles, and we both walk to where Alessandro is. I sit next to Dominic as the women start to bring out various dishes for us to eat. Roasts, plates of pasta, and bakes of all kinds. They always overdo it on Sunday lunch.
Alessandro looks over to Dominic. “What news do we have about our South American friends?”
“They’re doing well, and they’re closing in on Jose Catalan, and soon, he won’t be our problem anymore,” Dominic says.
I interject, “That’s not our only problem, though.”
Romero, Alessandro, and Dominic look at me, so I sip my wine and continue, “There are whispers that a Russian family wants to invade our territories. Apparently, they make Katya look like a Disney princess.”
Alessandro snorts and shakes his head. “Have you met my wife?”
“That’s what worries me. I have,” I say. “What do you want me to do?”
“We’ll deal with it as it comes. Best not to play our hand before we see what cards are on the table.”
Alessandro looks up as Katya joins them. “Apparently, you’re a Disney princess.”
Katya frowns, not getting the joke, and Dominic laughs a bit too hard, choking on a piece of food. Alessandro and I slap him on the back until he coughs it up.
Most of the women are sitting down to join us for food now, and my eyes briefly meet Arianna’s. She gives me a small smile as though she and I share a secret. I guess we do because I know from the looks she gives me that we would be together if it were an option.
I look away and back at Dominic. “Are you alive?”
“Yeah,” he croaks out, “I just imagined Katya in a poofy yellow dress.”
A few of us laugh, and Katya shakes her head. “Even in a poofy yellow dress, I’d torture you so badly you’d be kissing my glass slippers in no time, Dominic.”
Dominic holds his hands up. “I do not doubt that, Kat.” Everyone falls into a rhythm of eating and having genial conversations. Every now and then, my eyes flit to Arianna, to how her mouth moves as she smiles and chats with her cousins. I think about the times I’ve been close to her, the smell of her perfume, and then Dominic smacks me.
“Hello, are you listening?”
“Sorry, no. What did you say?” I ask, looking at him.
“I said stop staring at Kira. You’re going to give her the wrong impression,” Dominic says. “Unless you really are interested in her.”
I chuckle. “I’m not interested in being in a relationship right now. I actually just spaced out a bit there.”
Thank God he didn’t notice it was Arianna I was looking at. I don’t think I’d live past this meal. I try not to look at her for the rest of the afternoon.