Gangster (44 page)

    What about him?

    I tried to get him on the safe phone, I said. But no one picked up. That's the first time that's ever happened. There's always somebody there to cover that line.

    The guy might have gone to get a cup of coffee, Nico said, heading toward the thick wood doors leading out of the room.

    They're not allowed to leave the phone booth. Those are Angelo's rules and those are your men on that line.

    Nico stood at the door and held it open. Don't make a big deal out of it, Gabe, he said. I'll have it checked out.

    Have it checked out tonight, I said to him.

    Consider it done. Nico put a hand on my shoulder. You got nothin' to worry about but mom and pop!

     *     *     *

ANNA SAT ACROSS from me, dressed in a blue-and-white dress, her hair held from her eyes by two angel pins, her face bright and beautiful. Her father, Eduardo Pasqua, was to my right, sitting at the head of the large dining-room table. He was a tall man with a full, dark beard and a bald head, who carried himself like the successful wine merchant he had been ever since he took over the family business from his father, Giovann Giuseppe. The other head of the table was reserved for Frederico, who was there as a friend and to formally introduce me to the Pasqua clan, which also included a shy older brother, Roberto, and Carla, a precocious six-year-old, who giggled whenever she glanced my way. Frederico's wife, Donatella, dressed in a simple dark blue dress that showed off her aging beauty, sat next to me, her warm hand patting my clammy knuckles whenever I fumbled over a word or botched an Italian phrase. Nico sat across from Anna's mother, a tall, stunning woman, with short black hair and an easy laugh, his smooth charm quickly putting her at ease.

    As custom dictated, I had presented Anna's father with a gift, one meant to symbolize my good intentions. The gift had to be one that could be used by the entire family; since I didn't have the slightest clue as to what to get, I left the delicate choice up to Frederico. Eduardo is a proud man, he told me one morning a few days before the dinner, and he will require a gift that reflects that pride. All the same, we cannot overdo it, because that would insult him. So, it must be one which touches his heart.

    I guess that rules out a dozen roses and a bottle of wine, I said with a shrug.

    Wine he has in abundance, Frederico said, lighting a cheroot and walking alongside me through his groves. Flowers his signora can pick at will from her garden. Both would be appreciated, but neither would leave them breathless with the joy of your gift.

    Do I give them the gift as soon as we meet? I asked, a bit overwhelmed by all the rules that needed to be followed.

    No, you must wait, Frederico said, resting a hand on my shoulder. Until after the secondo piante, come si dice?

    The main course, I said with a nod.

    Si, the main course, Frederico said. After that, you will make mention of your gift.

    What if he doesn't like it? I asked.

    Then, mio caro amico, we will all at least have had ourselves a good meal, Frederico said. We will then simply drink our coffees, smoke our cigars and go our way. Still a pleasant night.

    You have so many rules for such a small island, I said.

    We are set in our ways, that is true, Frederico said, looking at me and waving a stubby finger in my direction. But it makes life so much easier. You always know what is expected, be it a marriage, a funeral or a simple summer meal.

    Then, we better make sure the gift we give is the right one, I said, staring at Frederico. Nothing less than perfect.

    Frederico laughed and shook his head and picked up the pace of his walk. It is, he said, moving a few lengths ahead of me. Trust me, mio caro, it is truly perfect.

     *     *     *

I CUT INTO a thick slice of lasagna, trying to eat and digest several conversations ongoing at once. Eduardo made sure my wineglass was never empty and he smiled whenever we spoke. I glanced at Anna every few minutes and occasionally caught a comforting look back. I watched as she brought in large platters of food and cleared back to the kitchen the ones that had been emptied. The mood was holiday festive, with Frederico, by far, the happiest of all at the table. The rugged old Don ate until he was full and drank way past sober, knowing all along that he had helped secure such a wonderful gift that Anna and her family would be left speechless with joy.

    We had given them a horse.

    A prime-quality, two-year-old palomino named Annarella. She had a shiny gold coat, white legs and tail and a white pyramid mark on her face. The gift was as much for Anna's mother as it was for her father, since both loved to ride and were thrilled to own such a fine animal, especially given the fact that it was a rare find in their part of the world. It had taken Frederico a week to have the animal bought, shipped and delivered as he worked quietly, without the use of either phone or telex, to spread the request.

    Are you sure this is what her father would want? I asked Frederico, standing in the center of his well-lit barn, watching as the palomino took an apple from my palm. He has a dozen horses in his stables. Why would he want another?

    Those are workhorses, to help pull the wine carts into town, Frederico said, gently stroking Annarella's mane. This is a champion and will give him a whole line of champions. This one they all can ride with pride.

    Don Frederico's right on the money, Nico said, admiring the horse from a distance, looking at her legs and muscular front. If it were up to me, I would have picked up two. One for here and one for the States.

    I didn't know you liked to ride, I said to Nico, letting Annarella rub her nose against my back.

    I've never been on one in my life, Nico said. I let others ride. Like jockeys at the track. A horse like this can bring in millions.

    Her millions will be earned in the pleasure she will bring to the Pasquas, Frederico said. You have done well here in such a short time. You have taken to your lessons like a serious young man and have learned to respect our ways. I pray they stay with you for the rest of your life. If they do, I will feel as if I have completed my task.

    I walked over to Don Frederico and embraced him, kissing him respectfully on both cheeks. I won't ever forget you, I said. Or this place. I'll always remember my days here in your company.

    Then we are both honored, Don Frederico said as he lowered his head, took Annarella's reins and led her back inside her stall.

     *     *     *

THE DINNER WAS nearing its end, as a final glass of Strega was poured for the table.

    Go now, young man, Eduardo said to me after I had downed the bitter drink. Your time among the old is at an end. I'm sure Anna waits for you, and if she truly is her father's daughter she does so without patience.

    Thank you. I eased myself casually out of the large room that was just down the hall from the dining area.

    Non ce di che Eduardo Pasqua said with a slight tilt of his head.

    Can I ask one small favor? I said, reaching for the doorknob. It would mean a lot to me if you said yes.

    Then ask, Eduardo said. And I will do my all to see that it is done.

    Can I let Anna take the palomino out for her first ride?

    Eduardo Pasqua looked at me for several long moments, then slowly nodded his head. She will like that, he said, his voice cracking slightly. And I will like it even more.

    That night, under the smiling glow of a full moon, Anna Pasqua rode the palomino up and down a sand strip on an empty beach of a small vacation island in the middle of the Mediterranean Sea. I sat on the cool sand, my hands folded against my knees, and watched her glide gently past me. The wind stretched her long hair out like a full-blown sail, her hands were loose on the reigns, the splash of the water rose up and wet her dress and the sides of her bare legs. She rode bareback, occasionally leaning over to whisper words that only the horse could hear. In those moments, nothing else mattered and no other place existed. Despite the chill of the night air, my face and arms were warm to the touch and a calm washed over my body. It was a night I never wanted to see end.

     *     *     *

MY PEACE WAS shattered the next morning. I turned in bed, my face warmed by the early sunlight. I opened my eyes and saw Don Frederico sitting on a wooden chair, his back to me, looking out at the sea lapping gently against the wet sand. Get dressed and meet me on the terrace, he said, as soon as he heard me stir.

    He walked with silent footsteps out of the room and onto the patio. I raced to do as he asked, tossing on a polo shirt and a clean pair of jeans. What's wrong? I stood in front of him, the rising sun washing over the cool tiles of the small terrace outside my room.

    There was an attempt made on Angelo's life, Frederico said. His eyes gave weight to his anger. He was betrayed by one of his own.

    Is he okay? I could feel my hands and legs shake as I spoke.

    Angelo is a man with many lives. He was shot at twice, both bullets missed.

    Who was behind it? I asked, stepping closer to the old man.

    I do not know the name of the man who shot at him, Frederico said. I only know who it was that ordered it done.

    I put my hands on Don Frederico's wrists and held them,

    helping to brace myself against the rolling shock of emotions I felt. Who? Nico, Frederico said.

     *     *     *

IT DIDN'T MAKE any sense, I told Mary, walking alongside her down the hospital corridor. I had just spent all these weeks learning lessons about honor and loyalty and friendship and then I find out someone Angelo and I both trusted tries to have him killed.

    It would be hard enough for a grown man to understand, Mary said. It's harder on a seventeen-year-old boy.

    I was living in a world that doesn't allow you to stay young for very long, I said. I was a kid in the middle of my first summer love when I had to make an adult decision on whether Nico lived or died.

    You could have waited until you and Nico were back in America, Mary said. Then have Angelo deal with it.

    That wasn't part of their plan, I said. I had to handle the job on Nico. It was one more lesson I needed to learn.

    You could have said no, Gabe, Mary said, stopping next to a water fountain, bending down to take a long drink. You could have always said no.

    I didn't know any other way but to say yes. It was how I'd been taught. How I'd been raised. There wasn't any choice in the matter.

    There's always choice, Mary said with defiance. Especially when someone's life is being decided on. Did you ever think for a moment that you were wrong? That Nico was only part of an even bigger plan that had been designed to keep you where they wanted you kept?

    Yes, I said, staring back at her. But I wasn't sure, at least not enough to hold back from what I was asked to do.

    That's the decision of a gangster, Gabe, Mary said. Not a boy.

    I had to be both, I said and turned away from Mary, walking slowly back to Angelo's room.

     *     *     *

NICO CAME OUT of the trattoria and stepped into the early morning rain. He was holding a coffee in one hand and a panini in the other. A red Fiat was in the alley next to the trattoria, parked front end first, rear wheels lodged up against a small curb. Don Frederico sat with two of his men in a row-boat moored to the pier, directly across the street.

    You told me once you were never cut out to be a boss, I said to him as I stepped around the from of the trattoria. What changed?

    I don't see anything that's changed, Nico said, tossing the bread to the side of the street. You and me, we're both still in Italy and, back home, Angelo's still the boss. It all looks the same to me.

    I put my hand into the pocket of my black raincoat and felt for the gun there. You could have made the move yourself, I said. Gone up against him on your own, instead of sitting here and sending out somebody who botched the job. That's the move a real boss would have made.

    Is that what they let you think you are now? Nico asked, lighting a cigarette. A boss? Or is that something you came up with all by yourself?

    I thought we were good friends, Nico, I said.

    I work in a business that doesn't allow for friends, Nico said in a sharp tone. Add that to the lessons the old man taught you. When you go into this as a way of life, then nobody's your friend. And I mean nobody.

    I took a deep breath and swallowed hard, sweaty fingers gripping the gun in my pocket. Nico let the cigarette drop from his mouth and ran a hand into the open flap of his jacket. I reached to pull the gun out of my pocket, my hand shaking, heavy sweat mixing with drops of rain running down the front of my face. Nico could have had me at any time, there was no question about it, but he hesitated. His eyes never left mine and his .38 came out much slower than it should have. I heard the first bullet land, saw Nico fall to one leg, and I knew I was shaking too hard to have fired it. I looked to my right and saw one of the men from Don Frederico's boat, a rifle in his hand, firing round after round into Nico's body.

    I walked over to Nico and lifted back his head. His eyes were blurry and a thin line of blood flowed out of a corner of his mouth. I didn't have to ask the question. All I had to do was look at him and he answered it for me.

    I'm too old to start killing kids, were his final words.

    I stepped away from his body, turned and walked across the street I got back into the rowboat and sat next to Don Frederico. I watched as the gunman dragged Nico's body from the front of the trattoria and into the alley, lifted him and tossed him inside the front seat of the red Fiat. Don Frederico turned to the man rowing the boat and nodded. The man rested the oars against his knees and picked up a black homing device with a green button in the center. He pressed down on the button and turned his head away from the dock.