“So, you just want to die? Now?” I cut him off.
This stills everyone. Well, except for Corrado whose slumped, hanging body is something I’m starting to worry about.
“Sal, take Corrado down from there first of all. And Tony? I want you to tell me the infamous story about the Carnival Massacre.”
Sal looks over at Tony, but Tony is still squinting in my direction. Except now he’s not so much as looking at the gun, it’s starting to dawn on him he might be looking at something a little more terrifying.
Like a ghost.
“It was the San Gennaro Feast…” he murmurs, then shifts back on the heels of his feet like he’s been hit with something.
“I’m looking for the truth now, Tony.”
“They…they used to have the big one in the city, but our neighborhood…” he trails off, still trying to figure stuff out. I can see the wheels turning in his head.
“Get to the good part Tony, the part you like the best.” I step forward, barrel of the gun directly in front of him.
“There is no good part, kid. The entire Fretolli family was slaughtered that day,” he growls.
I take another step closer. “Everyone but you. You and Corrado.” I flash my eyes at Corrado who’s now propped up against one of the cement columns. His eyes are open a little more, and he’s listening intently to what’s happening in front of him.
I look back up to Tony, “Go ahead, keep on talking.” I’m gesturing with the gun, and Tony’s eyes widen every time I jostle it wildly. “Let me help. Okay. San Gennaro Feast. Your neighborhood. The whole family getting together, they’re never in the same place all together anymore, right? That day, though, that one day they were. That was your idea, that day, wasn’t it?”
“What the fuck are you getting at, kiddo?”
I sigh loudly. “They were all planning to meet for lunch at DeVito’s concession—best sausage and peppers in the world—isn’t that what you said.”
“Darling, I don’t know what you’re talking about. Why don’t you tell me what’s going on…” His face pales, not quickly, it’s more like minute by minute it blanches whiter and whiter.
“The entire family was there. Fretolli, Acerbi, DeVito. All in one place. Except for Corey who was hell bent on playing that stupid ball-toss game because he wanted to win that huge stuffed unicorn for the girl he just kissed on the top of the Ferris wheel.” I smile at him, loving the look of the blood draining away from his face. “But you wouldn’t be paying attention to the kid not being there. Not when your goal was to use the bathroom when the hit was made.”
“Like I said, sweetheart, I don’t—”
“Beautiful. Sweetheart. Kiddo. Darling. Why don’t you use my real name, Tony?”
He stumbles back, just a foot or so, but enough. Enough to left me know he’s surprised and it’s not the best possible situation for him to be in.
“Should I introduce myself? It shouldn’t be hard to see it now, though, right? I look like my mother. You remember my mother, don’t you?”
A whimper rips out of Corey’s throat from where he sits on the floor. My heart breaks for him, for what he’s seeing right now, a dead girl living and breathing right in front of him.
“Say it, Tony.”
Tony shakes his head. He doesn’t want to believe me, but I see it in his eyes.
“Witness protection,” I smile. “You know, growing up in that sort of custody, wow. It gave me the drive, Tony. The drive to one day come back and see you.” I take another step closer, and the three men all step back at the same time. “I had a good time watching you all walking around the last few weeks, looking behind your shoulders, thinking about who was going to be knocked off next.”
“It can’t be,” he whispers.
“Oh, Tony, I wish it wasn’t. I wish I didn’t want to douche my mind clear of you and your greedy little fingers trying to claw your way into control of the family.”
“No, no, no.” Tony chants the words like a prayer.
“Well, let me formally introduce myself. Hello,” I wave the gun at him, “I’m Giana. Giana Acerbi. And I’m here, Tony, to take back control of my family business. And to repay you…”
“Repay me?”
“For ordering the hit on my family, Tony. On Corrado’s family.” I swallow back a wave of emotion. I can still see my mother sitting on the bench, teasing my father about shoving the sausage and pepper hero in his mouth like agavone. I can still hear Corrado’s twin sisters asking for ice cream. And I can still feel the anticipation of waiting for Corrado to win me that beautiful, magical stuffed unicorn that literally saved his life.
