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Anthony's fingers trembled as he fumbled with the key, finally swinging the door to his apartment open with a squeak from its worn hinges. He was not quite sure where the trembling came from, whether it was the two lines he had done at the club or the last client. Whatever. He flicked on the light with one hand and closed the door behind him with another squeak. The light stabbed mercilessly into his eyes until all he could see was white. He leaned against the door and closed his eyelids. It must have been the lines after all. Fucking dirtbag idiot. He allowed himself a few moments of peace, standing there with his eyes still closed, the world around him an empty, calming, safe black.
To say his life had taken a sharp turn in the last year would probably be an understatement, and Anthony was not sure whether to consider it a good or a bad thing. Had things been better before? Before, at least his life had some meaning, he had the back-up of his family and the apparent invulnerability of being the second son of a mafia boss. Security. On the other hand, since getting kicked out, he no longer had to pretend. Pops was not going to kill him for something he already knew, and he was able to live his life the way he wanted. Freedom. And he no longer had to hurt others to have it. Is that not what they say? To understand someone's perspective, you first have to walk in their shoes? Well, he had, he now knew what it meant to be truly helpless, and he did not like the feeling at all. Never before had he thought about what it felt like for the people Pops hurt, the people Anthony himself had hurt. But now…no matter how he looked at it, even the thought of going back to his old life made his stomach turn. Was it not always this way? If you wanted freedom, you traded security for it; if you wanted security, you gave up freedom? At this moment, his life might not be quite as secure, but at least he had the freedom to do what he wanted. He had his shows at the drag club, even had fans now, although most of them were perverted assholes who only came because they knew Anthony sometimes was available to them after his shows. So who even gave a shit how often he felt the urge to wash himself with bleach and crawl on his knees to his father and beg him to take him back. Fuck, he must have had too many lines after all.
Anthony hastily opened his eyes and moved away from the door. Why was he thinking about this all of a sudden? Sure, his client today had been a piece of shit, but at least Anthony had acted on his own accord. He did not need Pops or Jonny; the only family he needed was Molly, and he saw her often enough. His fingers trembled again as he approached his vanity table…it must have been the lines after all. Anthony looked at himself in the mirror and ripped the wig off his head with an angry jerk. His makeup was ruined. The fucker seriously gave him a black eye. His left eye was swollen, and the white was almost completely red. His lip was cracked, and his lipstick was mercilessly smeared. He removed his makeup with practiced fingers and slipped off his dress, slid out of his high-heeled boots, he now was able to walk just as well as in flat shoes on, and changed. As much as he loved Angelica, sometimes it was more than exhausting to be her.
Once done changing — now wearing simple pants and a button-down shirt — Anthony sat back at his vanity. At least he had the money, he thought with a slight, crooked grin while pulling the bundle out of his purse. The timing was perfect, now he no longer had to put off Vince, his dealer, who was slowly becoming fucking impatient. He slipped off the thin rubber band holding the bundle together and unfolded it to count the bills. A ten, another ten, and…newspaper? He hastily leafed through the bills, but no matter how many he turned, except for the first two tens, all he found was neatly cut-out newspaper.
"That fucking bastard!" Anthony jumped up and threw the useless bundle of bills on the floor as hard as he could. He screwed him over. By the time they were done, Anthony had been too dazed to take a closer look at the bills "I'm gonna kill him" he whispered softly as he let his gaze wander around the room. Where the fuck had he put his Tommy-Gun? Never mind, he can strangle him with his bare hands "I'll find that fucker and tear him to fucking pieces! I'll shoot his fucking kneecaps out, chop off a few of his fingers, and get my fucking money! I mean, who does he think he is? Does he think he can beat me up, then fuck me, and then not even PAY ME!!!!" he laughed, and even to his own ears it sounded hysterical. He was fucked. He had nothing to pay Vince with. He only agreed to the whole thing because he had no other way to pay Vince, and now "FUCK!" he slammed his fist against the dressing table. A frightened meow snapped him out of his thoughts and his gaze flew to the window. Ribbs was standing on the windowsill, her back arched, her fur puffed up, and her green eyes almost as round as saucers.
"Oh, no, I'm so sorry, baby" Anthony rushed to the window and hastily pushed it open to let her in "daddy didn't mean to scare you, daddy just had a…really shitty day" Ribbs hissed briefly in response but did not leave. Anthony cautiously held out his hand to her. Ribbs hissed once more, took an uncertain step back, but sniffed the offered fingers. A few heartbeats later, she happily pressed herself into his hand and Anthony breathed a sigh of relief. At least she had forgiven him. Anthony sat down on the windowsill and Ribbs happily climbed into his lap "that's good, baby. Daddy didn't mean to be loud" he cooed at her, and she purred softly as Anthony gently stroked her back.
She was an ugly little thing, Ribbs, looking so scruffy Anthony doubted she had a home. Her gray fur was dull and bald in places, half her ear was missing, her right eye was adorned with an old scar, and she seemed unable to close it properly, leaving it looking forever frozen in a state of astonishment. Her whiskers were completely broken off on the right side and bent at strange angles on the left. She was probably the cutest creature Anthony had ever seen, and above all, she seemed to like him as much as he liked her. The first time she came to his window was on the day he moved into this apartment. She did not let him touch her then, so he tried to bribe her with milk. The bribe was accepted, but it took five visits before she allowed him to pet her. By now, he no longer needed milk; she climbed into his lap on her own. She still got the milk, though.
"Listen, Ribbs, I don't have anything for you today" Anthony said in a soft apology "the milk is almost out and I only have leftovers from yesterday, and I haven't eaten anything myself yet" the purring intensified "I'm sorry, I don't have anything" the purring grew even louder, almost like a small motor "okay fine, you win, you'll get your fucking milk" he rolled his eyes and gently pushed her onto the windowsill "little blackmailer" he muttered quietly as he opened his refrigerator and poured the rest of his milk into a small bowl, reaching for the can with the leftovers to scoop the chicken out "happy?" he snorted placing the two bowls in front of Ribbs "admit it, you only come here because I give you food" Anthony sat back down on the windowsill, but Ribbs paid him no further attention as she tucked into her dinner. Typical "you know, I've had a really shitty day" Anthony said quietly. He reached for the cigarettes always lying next to the windowsill, lit one, took a short drag, and blew the smoke into the air "I don't know how I'm supposed to pay Vince. He said he won't sell me anything until I pay my debt, and my supply will only last a few more days. I mean, I only did it to pay Vince. The others at the club said it wasn't worth it, how the guy keeps coming back and yelling at them from the audience and then keeps asking them again and again, as if it were some kind of honor or something…they said none of them would go along with something like this and I shouldn't either, that I should consider myself worth more than that, but…they said he was a homophobic dickhead and got off on insulting us from the audience and stuff, but I thought, whatever, I'd have the money…I thought it wouldn't matter if I let him beat me up, insult me, degrade me, and then fuck me, as long as he paid me, but…fuck" would the money even have made it better? At least he would have it then, but like this. Ribbs lifted her ugly little head from her bowl and finally left the food behind, climbing back into Anthony's lap "well, I'll just ask Molly if she can lend me some" Anthony smiled, and even though he was not seeing the smile, he knew how tortured it must look. It felt pathetic to ask Molly for money again. The fear one day she might get tired of helping him was always there, tugging and pulling at him mercilessly. But he had no other choice, did he? If he failed to pay Vince and buy new dope, he was not going to survive, and there was no way he was going to be able to find another client today. Freedom, huh? Whatever.
"You know, Ribbs, your daddy's a real piece of shit, huh?" he sighed deeply, Ribbs just purred louder in response, as if to disagree with his words "well, at least you still love me" the purring suddenly stopped and Ribbs sat up, her eyes firmly fixed on the front door "what?" Anthony asked, confused. The cat suddenly jumped off his lap, arched her back, and hissed. Then she jumped out the window as if the devil himself was after her. Moments later, there was a soft, tentative knock at the front door. For a moment, Anthony felt a chill run down his spine. Was Vince tired of waiting for his money and now sent a few debt collectors? But the knock did not sound like debt collectors, as tentative as it was. There was another knock, this time sounding almost desperate. Should he wait it out? It might be someone from the club or Molly, but Molly had a key and never knocked, and no one from the club would knock so timidly. For a split second, he thought Pops had sent someone to kill him, but no, they would have broken down the door by now. There was another knock, this time sounding truly desperate "coming" Anthony said, getting to his feet. He moved slowly through the apartment, so whoever it was would not hear his footsteps and not be able to tell where exactly in the apartment he was. All right, what should he do? He really had no idea where he put his Tommy-Gun, but the old revolver will probably do the trick as well. He opened his sock drawer as carefully as possible and rummaged around until his hand closed around the handle of the revolver. He slid the chamber out; four bullets left, that will have to do. There was another knock. Anthony got back on his feet and hid the revolver behind his back with his finger on the trigger, slowly approaching the door. Another knock, this time sounding like a not particularly strong fist.
"What?" Anthony finally yanked the door open, and the person behind it took an uncertain, bewildered step back. Ginevra Bellini stood in front of his door with her eyes wide open, the hand she used to knock on the door still raised and the other pressed against her chest in surprise. She was probably the last person Anthony would have expected to see. She was the wife of Luca Bellini, one of Pop's Capus, and his sister's best friend. He hardly knew the woman; she was…nice? As far as one could call a woman married to a Capu nice. What on earth was she doing here? He slid his finger off the trigger and let his hand with the revolver drop. Her gaze followed his hand, but she showed no reaction as she saw the gun.
"What are you doing here?" Anthony rolled his eyes. She was probably the last person Pops might send to kill him. Ginevra turned her head away as if listening, then pushed Anthony into his apartment, slammed the door behind them, and pressed her ear against it. A few heartbeats later, she exhaled with relief and straightened up "does Luca know you're here?" just what he needed he needed. Luca was a jealous and, above all, vengeful little bitch.
"You're probably the last person Luca would be jealous about" she rolled her eyes and finally moved away from the door "is this where you live now?" she wrinkled her nose slightly, slowly making her way through the apartment as if she had to maneuver her way through a garbage dump "it's…nice" she added diplomatically.
"What are you doing here?" Anthony asked again, a sense of foreboding sending a cold shiver down his spine. There was only one reason she would come here. "is…is it about Molly?"
"A lot has happened since you left, Antonio" Ginevra said quietly, elegantly sinking into one of the chairs at the kitchen table. Anthony followed her hesitantly and slid into the chair opposite her "Don Scarpino has become…paranoid, seeing enemies and betrayal everywhere and…" she paused briefly, tacking a deep breath before continuing. What was she getting at? It sounded worse and worse with every word "the Perotti family has taken advantage of this and recently become much more powerful. As things stand, war is inevitable and…" she paused again for a few moments "he should never have kicked you out, especially not for such a trifling matter, and…Luca would probably kill me if he heard me saying this, but I don't care at the moment. To prevent war, Don Scarpino has agreed to unite the families" the last words were almost a whisper, and Anthony felt his heart sink. The only way to unite two families was through marriage. Perotti had no daughters, no nieces, only two sons, and that meant…fuck "he wants to force Maria to marry Domenico Perotti, Don Perotti's eldest son"
"And…and what does Molly say?" Anthony whispered into the room. As if she had any say in the matter.
"What is she supposed to say?" Ginevra snorted "he has not even asked her! I mean, Luca is no saint, but he respects me, Domenico Perotti, on the other hand…" she jumped up and began pacing up and down the room "Maria is not cut out for this, she never was. I mean, I can deal with what Luca does, but she…and Domenico isn't known for respecting his women, fuck, there's no proof, but they say he murdered his first wife because she questioned him once, and we both know Maria will always question him. She might be able to do this with her father, but with him…"
"And what does Jonny say?" Anthony asked dully. Molly had always resisted agreeing to an arranged marriage. You should only marry if you love each other. She always said, the romantic dreamer that she was, and Pops had played along all these years. Had he left her alone because he was waiting for the right moment? A marriage he was sure to benefit from?
"What could he possibly say? Since when has he ever said anything against his father? That's just how the world works" Ginevra stopped abruptly and mocked him "he didn't stand up for you, and he won't for her either. Listen, I'm sorry to ask you this, and I know how unfair it is to ask you of all people for help. But you're the only one I can turn to. Luca won't do anything, Gionata won't do anything, and I don't know how long Maria will be able to bear it" she finally concluded, and Anthony jumped to his feet. He opened his sock drawer and rummaged around for the revolver holster, strapped it on, and slid the gun into it. Then he took out his second revolver and slid it into the holster as well. The third and smallest revolver went into a small holster he strapped to his ankle. He stood up, opened the closet, and grabbed his old jacket. He had worn it the day Pops kicked him out of the house. It felt strange to put it on; after all, he had not touched it for a long year. Oh, there was his Tommy-Gun. He strapped it to his back and finally reached for his hat. He did not think much as he did all this, his mind completely blank except for a single word. Molly, Molly, Molly, it screamed at him. He had no plan, he had no strategy, he was not even thinking he might be able to do anything. It was just Molly, Molly, Molly.
"When you see Molly, tell her how much I love her" he said, turning briefly to Ginevra.
"What…what are you doing?" she asked, putting her hands on her hips "I want you to talk to Don Scarpino, not go to war"
"He won't talk to me" Anthony shrugged, stepping out of the apartment. He took one last look inside, at the scraped wallpaper, the single light bulb on the ceiling, the shabby furniture. He will miss it. But Molly was more important than all of this; she was more important than him; she was the only good thing in his fucked-up, meaningless life. It looks like he will not have to worry about paying Vince after all.
***
Don Scarpino's estate lay in shadows as Anthony watched it from the bushes. It lay secluded on the very edge of Brooklyn, large and magnificent, just the way Pops liked it. It was a strange feeling to stand here, Anthony had always assumed — no, rather sworn to himself — to never set foot in this place again. So many memories were attached to this building, terrible and beautiful ones — his whole life. But he was not here to think back on them. Anthony pulled his hat lower over his face and let his gaze wander across the building. Most of the lights were on despite the late hour, and Anthony saw figures moving behind the windows and heard the muffled sound of music. It seemed like a party was in full swing. Were they already celebrating the engagement? Fuck, he had to hurry. He quickly glanced at the window belonging to Don Scarpino's office and breathed a sigh of relief as he saw the light. Then Pops was probably in his office, and if he was there, the engagement was not yet sealed. He just had to find a way in and maneuver through the building unnoticed. Anthony turned his eyes to the front door. Only one man stood in front of it, leaning casually against the wall, his hand loosely on the handle of his gun. Normally, there should be at least two, if not more, but they must all be at the party. This will be easy.
For one moment, Anthony considered going up to the guard — from where he was crouching, he was unable to make out who it was — and demand an audience with his father. Perhaps he had no need to resort to violence; perhaps his name still carried some weight. For a tiny, fleeting moment, he imagined his father might even be happy to see him again. He imagined Pops telling him he was sorry and wanted him back in the family. For a tiny, fleeting moment, he indulged in the impossible thought of his father telling him he was worth something after all. But he quickly dismissed this wishful thinking, for it will never happen. Don Scarpino did not change his mind, he was not lenient, he was not even fair. No, he will have to force his way in.
Anthony picked a rock up off the ground and threw it with all his strength to the right of the entrance. The guard flinched and looked around in confusion, probably not expecting to be called into action today. He took out his weapon and slowly moved toward the stone's landing spot. Anthony hurriedly got moving and crept out of the bushes as quietly as he could. The guard stopped at the landing spot and looked around in confusion. Anthony was almost upon him and took his Tommy-Gun from his back. The guard straightened up and made a move to turn around, but it was too late, and Anthony hit him across the neck with the butt of his Tommy-Gun. He fell to the ground, and Anthony nudged him with the toe of his shoe, but he did not move. Finally, Anthony turned him over.
"Sorry, Giuseppe" he said, even slightly apologetically, once he finally recognized the man. He was nothing more than a pawn, no wonder he was missing out on the party. Anthony grabbed the man's hands and dragged him into the bushes, the last thing he needed was for someone to spot him and sound the alarm. Then he pushed his hat even deeper onto his face and entered the building, praying to encounter no one who might recognize him. The hallway behind the front door was empty, the music grew louder, merging with the babble of voices. He listened for a few heartbeats, straining to hear his sister's voice, but he did not. She probably was not among the celebrants. Well, what would she have to celebrate? Ginevra was right, Molly was not going to settle for an arranged marriage, especially not with a man she did not know, especially not with a mafioso from a rival family.
Anthony moved quietly through the building, pressing himself against the walls, turning his head away when he encountered someone in the hallway. But he was lucky; no one had recognized him yet. Most of the people he encountered were far too drunk to wonder why someone armed to the teeth and wearing a hat was sneaking through the corridors. He made it safely to Pops's office. He stopped in front of the door, dark wood, bronze handle — he just had to reach out, put his hand on the handle, and push down. There were no guards, no lock, and yet something kept him from going in, so he stood there paralyzed. There were so many memories attached to it, probably even more than to the building itself. His father was there, behind that door. He had not seen him in so long; the last time was when Anthony was kicked out, and he could still remember the hatred and disgust in his eyes. His heart suddenly began to beat wildly, the blood rushed through his ears, and he could feel his breath catch in his throat…fuck, fuck, fuck. This was not about him, it was about Molly, about the rest of her life. He…
"I'm not gonna do it!" Molly's voice snapped Anthony out of his panic. Pops was not alone in the room; Molly was there too. That was not good.
"What makes you think you have a say in this, Maria?" Don Scarpino's voice rang out next, and the sound of it alone sent a chill down Anthony's spine. His father was not even speaking to him, yet Anthony felt the weight of his authority bearing down on him, the burning desire to please his father, to win his approval, and to finally do it right "I have been patient with you" Don Scarpino continued, his voice dangerously calm. That tone…he had never spoken to Molly this way before. This tone seemed to have been reserved for Anthony alone, and it sounded strange, frightening, and dangerous to hear it directed at his sister "I gave you freedom, freedom no father in my position would ever have"
"Freedom?" Molly laughed humorlessly "you didn't give me any freedom. You just waited for the right moment to use me as a pawn in your ploys"
"Molly, you're being irrational" a third voice chimed in. Jonny, fuck, that was not good. He will be on Pop's side, just like he always was.
"Irrational!?" Molly laughed again "it's my fucking life and I'll live it the way I want!"
"You're being hysterical" Anthony was able to hear the eye-rolling in his brother’s voice. Typical.
"Hysterical? Is that all you have to say?" Molly continued, her voice calm as if to prove him wrong "but you don't care, after all, no one is trying to marry you off to a monster"
"Monster? Come on, these rumors are completely far-fetched. Do you really think Perotti murdered his first wife?" Jonny retorted.
"Do you think that's what this is about?" Molly snorted "I said it back then and I'll say it again, I don't want anything to do with your crimes and…"
"That's enough!" a loud bang suddenly rang out and Anthony flinched, almost able to picture his father slamming his fist down on the table. He had never hit Molly before, but this turn of events seemed more than likely. Fuck. He should finally break out of his stupor and open the door.
"I've given you a lot of freedom, Maria" Don Scarpino repeated, his voice becoming more threatening with every word "I've let you get away with a lot. Your mood swings, your idealistic, hysterical speeches, your constant threats of going to the cops. Your nagging, your whining. Your disdain for your own family and your constant refusal to lift even one finger for your own flesh and blood. You're right, I let you have your way, I watched as you rejected all the suitors on a whim, all the honorable men working hard to win your favor and secure a place in this family. But now it's over. You should be glad someone even wants you at your age. Maybe that's just what you need, a husband who will beat all those whims out of you. You know, you despise what I do, and yet you live here, and yet you take all my dirty money when you need it. You should consider yourself lucky to finally be of use to this family and not just pointlessly waste space"
"Family?" Molly snorted "you have the audacity to talk about family? You don't even know what that means. You tore this family apart, you threw Tony out on the street for something he had no control over!"
"Don't say that name, girl" Don Scarpino growled, danger and disgust in every syllable, stabbing Anthony in the heart behind the door.
"Why not?" Anthony almost saw Molly defiantly pushing her chin forward in his mind's eye "does it remind you of what you did? You always talk big about family and loyalty, but as soon as it's demanded of you, you back down"
"Molly" Jonny said quietly, but his warning was drowned out by Don Scarpino's words.
"Stop talking, girl, or I'll lose my temper" he growled threatingly.
"Oh, and what are you gonna do? Hit me too?" there was almost a challenge in her voice "you're a coward, and I'm ashamed to be related to you. You too, by the way, Jonny" she added casually. Fuck, that was not good. Whether she knew it or not, she had probably uttered the greatest insult to exist in Pop's understanding. Sometimes Anthony forgot how detached she had been from everything until now. This finally snapped him out of his stupor and he stormed in. For an agonizingly long moment, the room was silent. Confusion and shock were almost palpable as all eyes rested on Anthony. Don Scarpino stood behind his desk; he must have gotten up during the fight. Jonny stood next to the table, almost forming a front with their father, as he always did. Molly stood in the middle of the room, her delicate hands clenched into fists. For a heartbeat, her face lit up with joy at the sight of Anthony, with joy and love, but mere seconds later, her face fell as she realized where they were and the danger her twin had put himself in by even standing there.
"You can't force her to marry Perotti" Anthony finally forced himself to swallow the lump in his throat and move beside Molly. He forced his voice to sound firm, not betraying a hint of the turmoil he was feeling inside. And feel it he did, it raged within him, for he had just done it, he had openly defied his father. Molly immediately grabbed his arm, as if to prevent him from doing something stupid. But it was probably already too late.
"Tony, what are you doing here?" she whispered, barely audibly.
"What else, saving you, of course, silly" Anthony whispered back.
"You're silly" Molly snorted, her voice much firmer than his "he doesn't mean it" she said louder, addressing their father "he's just worried about me, that's all. He'd never go against you, and he's leaving now, voluntarily" she tightened her grip on his arm.
"Yes, he's leaving now" Jonny agreed "I'll take him out myself" he said, hastily setting off.
"Like hell I am!" Anthony pulled his arm out of her grip "you…you can't treat her like that!" he turned back to his father, still standing behind his desk, his face stony, grim, and unreadable "you can treat me like that, you can treat Jonny like that, but not her!"
"Tch" Don Scarpino snorted contemptuously "you come into my house and think you can talk to me this way, boy?" he circled the desk "brought all these weapons with you. What do you want to do with them, huh? Shoot me?" he asked suddenly, and Anthony wanted to force himself to take his trusty Tommy-Gun off his back, grab one of his guns, but it was like all his courage suddenly vanished into thin air "figured as much. Now, go on, get out of here, boy, go back to playing dress-up with your degenerate friends before I change my mind"
"Yes, that's exactly what he'll do now" Molly reached for Anthony's arm again, but he pulled it back before she was able to wrap her fingers around it.
"I'm gonna leave and never come back, and I'm taking her with me" he said, nodding slightly toward Molly "she doesn't belong in this world, and you know that as well as I do"
"Let her leave?" Don Scarpino suddenly laughed, loudly and barkingly and…angrily. He circled the table, moving slowly around the room, almost lazily, like a predator approaching its cornered prey, knowing full well it had no chance of escaping. Anthony took an uncertain step back, his legs seeming to move on their own, as if remembering everything the man in front of him was capable of. Don Scarpino was smaller than Anthony — most people were; he was tall but slim and thin, perfect for dressing up in women's clothes — and yet he managed to tower over him and look down on him.
"Do you really think I would let her go now?" he continued, sounding just as threatening "with the Perottis here? So they think me a liar? Someone unable to control his own children? Just because you say so, boy? You have no say in this family, not anymore. You bring all these weapons with you, as if you had the courage to use them" he almost spat. Don Scarpino now stood directly in front of his son, the smoke from the cigar in the corner of his mouth stinging Anthony's eyes "go on, take them out, show me there's still some man left in you" Anthony stood there paralyzed, unable to move as all the past years, all the similar situations, rained down on him mercilessly "thought as much. You're just as useless as you were the day I freed this family from your cancerous tumor" Anthony felt the blow before it came, the feeling almost familiar. His lower lip burst open again, he felt two of his teeth loosen in his mouth and scratch his cheek from the inside, tasted the blood on his tongue, the rough impact as he landed on the floor.
"Pops, please, leave him alone!" for a moment, all Anthony was able to see was Molly's red silk skirt as she threw herself between him and their father. But she was gone as quickly as she came, pushed aside almost casually by Don Scarpino, who became the only thing he could see. An imposing figure, overpowering, brutal, and…all too familiar. His resolve to be strong and brave this time, to not let him push him around, evaporated, and all he was left with was a frightened little boy, unable to do what his father expected of him. A disappointment, a weakling, a coward, not a real man. He just lay there and waited for what was to come. He felt a massive hand clench his hair and he was lifted up until he was on his knees. Pain concentrated on his hair roots as they were mercilessly overstretched.
"You have no say here, boy" Don Scarpino growled, his face close to his son's, the cigar smoke pungent and acrid and caustic "you have no say here" Don Scarpino shook Anthony, pain shooting through him with every movement "you never did and you never will. You're not even worth the air you breathe, not even the dirt beneath our feet!"
"Pops, you don't have to..." Jonny began.
"Pops, stop, please!" his words were swallowed up by Molly's cry. She threw herself at their father, tugging at the arm holding her twin, but nothing helped "I'll do it!" she cried desperately "I'll do whatever you want. I'll marry Perotti, I'll behave myself, I'll do anything you want, just please let him go!"
"Oh, I will" said Don Scarpino, completely calm "as soon as you've taken your wedding vows. Until then, I'll keep him here as motivation for you"
"You don't have to, I'll keep my word!" Molly exclaimed.
"Gionatta, get his weapons" Don Scarpino ignored Molly's words and ordered sharply. Jonny immediately and eagerly set to work, and Anthony could feel him taking his Tommy-Gun from his back and pulling his two guns from their holsters. Fuck, now he only had the tiny gun on his ankle, hardly worth mentioning, and Pops kept his eyes on him, looking down at his work with almost satisfaction, as if it were something he had always wanted to see.
"Really great idea, Tony" Jonny whispered scornfully in his ear as he did so, before getting up and walking away. Fuck, he had come here to help Molly, but now he was the very reason she was giving in.
"Now go and get me a rope" Don Scarpino continued to order.
"Pops, that's not necessary…" Jonny began.
"I said go get me a rope!" Don Scarpino barked, and Jonny hastily left the room.
"He's unarmed now; you can let him go" Molly pleaded as the door closed behind her brother.
"What makes you think you're in a position to make demands, girl?" Don Scarpino snorted "calm down, I'll let him go soon enough, after I've taught him a little lesson" the malicious grin on his face sent a cold shiver down Anthony's spine. He had rarely seen his father smile, but grin…it looked almost wrong on his face, like an intruder, a demon taking possession of the man in front of him. Then he casually took the cigar from the corner of his mouth, and it took Anthony a few moments to realize what he was going to do with it. The still-burning cigar moved slowly and inevitably toward his face. It was as if something inside him clicked and he began to struggle, grabbed the hand holding him, felt some of his hair being torn out by the roots as he managed to break free from the firm grip. Don Scarpino lost his composure for a moment, his face no longer contemptuous but genuinely angry. Anthony tried to move away, but he was not fast enough, and the hand grabbed his jaw. The cigar continued to move. Anthony grabbed the hand around his jaw, scratched it until he felt blood on his fingers, even tried to open his mouth wide enough to bite. The cigar continued to move. He heard Molly's muffled cry, but he was unable to make out any words. He saw her throw herself at their father, but he pushed her back with one hand. The cigar was already at his face; he could feel the heat on his skin. For a moment, all he was able to see out of his left eye was the glowing tip of the cigar moving inexorably toward him. He hastily closed his eye. Then everything burned. Agony filled him to the brim, concentrated on his eye. He heard a pain-filled cry and needed a moment to realize it had come out of his own throat. Then the world was suddenly white.
The next thing Anthony felt was a burning pain around his eye, then almost ice-cold fingers gently brushing the hair from his forehead. He did not dare open his eye, afraid his vision might still remain black.
"It's okay, I've got you" Molly whispered above him, and only then did Anthony realize he was lying in her lap "I hate you" she said in a firm voice, and it took Anthony five agonizing heartbeats for his brain to realize she meant their father, not him.
"You know, Maria, I'm slowly starting to not care at all what you think of me" Anthony needed a few moments to focus his gaze on his father through the pain and just managed to see him lighting a new cigar "you won't be my problem for much longer anyway. Do you know what men like Domenico Perotti do to rebellious women?" he left the question hanging in the air "and as for you, boy, I think your days on stage are finally coming to an end. One problem less" he smiled amusedly. Anthony had no choice but to raise his trembling hand and feel for his eye. The skin he found was rough, and no amount of makeup in the world will be able to cover it up. His father was right, he will probably no longer be able to perform, and Angelica was dead, the only place he had ever felt truly free was dead. Now his father had taken that away from him too. For a moment, his mind was suddenly empty, nothing but a white, dull, desperate void. Angelica was dead and will never rise again. When he left, he did not expect to return. He was resigned to his death, to at least once in his miserable life having done the right thing. But he had not expected Angelica to be the one to die, and he did not know how to go on living without her. His fingers automatically reached for the small gun on his ankle, opened the holster, and closed his hand around the handle. Molly's fingers slid from his forehead as he sat up. His vision blurred with the intensifying pain, but he managed to pull himself upright. Molly came to her feet with him, and he hastily pushed her behind his back. Then he raised the gun and aimed at his father.
"And what are you gonna do with it, boy?" Don Scarpino snorted. He stood completely calm, as if he was not looking down the barrel of a gun "you wanna kill me? Go on, shoot, prove you're a man and pull the trigger" Anthony pulled back the hammer with one finger "pull the trigger, I said" Don Scarpino came towards them and Anthony could feel Molly's fingers on his arm.
"Tony, no" his sister whispered in his ear "you're better than that, you're better than he could ever be"
"I said pull the trigger!" Don Scarpino barked "prove there's something inside you worth anything" Anthony felt his hand trembling, his finger shaking on the trigger "you're a disgrace, boy, can't do even this right. Here, I'll show you how it's done" he reached into his jacket and pulled out a gun. Unlike Anthony, his grip was firm, and unlike Anthony, he did not hesitate for a moment to shoot. For a second, Anthony saw his life flash before his eyes, all the things he never achieved, the meaninglessness of his existence. It was probably for the best, though he would have liked to save Molly before he died. Suddenly, he felt himself being pushed aside by slender hands and landed on the floor again. This was followed by the dull thud of a body.
"MOLLY!" he screamed before his brain was able to process what was happening. Suddenly, he had Molly in his arms. Her blood merged strangely with her red dress as it spurted from her chest, a gush of blood, then another, then another, and finally nothing more as her heart stopped beating "come on, Molly" he grabbed her shoulders with trembling fingers "come on" he shook her gently "come on, please" but she did not move. What had once been his proud, brave, strong, resilient, kind, cheeky, idealistic sister was suddenly nothing more than an empty shell, a puppet whose strings had been cut, and it felt as if a part of him had died with her. He gently laid her back on the floor and slowly stood up.
"You killed her" even to his own ears his voice sounded strangely empty, almost mechanical, as if his soul had died along with Molly.
"I killed her?" Don Scarpino snorted, his voice completely indifferent, as if he had not just put a bullet in his daughter's heart "no, boy, you killed her, you alone. And what am I supposed to do with the Perottis now?" he snorted, as if it still mattered, as if he had not just shot his own daughter. Molly was dead. He began pacing back and forth across the room, repeatedly turning his back on Anthony, as if he posed no threat whatsoever. Molly was dead "the Perottis won't be happy" he continued pacing, muttering thoughtfully to himself. Molly was dead "I know" his voice took on a strange, cruel tone. Molly is dead "you messed it up, boy, and you're gonna fix it. You love playing dress-up, don't you? And you two look similar enough. We'll be able to pull it off for a while before…" his voice was swallowed by a gunshot, then another, and another, and another, and another, until nothing but the clicking of an empty chamber came from the revolver. For a moment, it felt good. All the years, all the beatings, all the terrible words, his eye, Molly's death — it all melted into one satisfying mass. He had finally brought down the monster. For a tiny moment, Anthony felt satisfaction wash over him, pure, raw euphoria. But it evaporated as quickly as it had come when the realization of what he had done hit him mercilessly. He had murdered his father.
Don Scarpino fell to the floor, five blood-red spots on his chest and a look of eternal surprise on his face. He probably never saw it coming. Anthony's grip on the gun loosened until it finally slipped from his fingers and hit the floor. His legs gave way and he slid to his knees, right next to Molly's lifeless body. Pops was dead. What had he done? The door suddenly flew open and Jonny stormed in, gun in hand. His gaze darted frantically around the room, from Don Scarpino to Molly to Anthony. For a split second, he pointed his gun at his brother, but he lowered it just as quickly.
"Pops!" he shouted, rushing in, bending over his body and checking for a pulse. Then he was on Anthony, grabbing him by the collar "Tony, what the fuck have you done?!" he yelled in his face.
"He killed Molly" Anthony whispered, barely audibly "and then I killed him" an almost hysterical laugh formed in his throat and burst out of him "I killed him!" Jonny had no chance to respond. A shot rang out and he fell to the ground, his hands slipping from Anthony's collar as he fell. What? Anthony looked down at his brother, at the hole in his forehead. Someone clapped slowly and theatrically, and Anthony's gaze flew to the door. Five men stood in the doorway, and the one in front was the one clapping. Was he slowly going crazy?
"That's what you call a real family tragedy" the man said appreciatively "I must say, this I hadn’t see coming. The disgraced, lost son returns and kills his father. And I didn't even have to waste time destroying the family from the inside. But I must say, I am a little disappointed. I would have loved to have ravished the lovely Maria before getting down to business"
"Domenico Perotti" Anthony whispered into the air, his voice still just as empty "do you want to finish the job and kill me too?" once he finished the sentence, he realized how much he wanted him to.
"Oh, but why?" Perotti laughed "you're no threat to me, and I'm grateful for your help, Antonio Scarpino, I really am. I'll even compensate you" he said, casually reaching into his jacket and pulling out a bundle of bills. He threw it on the floor, where it soaked up some of Molly's blood. Paradoxically, the first thing Anthony thought was how he will be able to pay Vince with it. He could get new drugs, even today. He threw himself on the money like a starving man on a piece of bread and then fled the building. They were all dead, and it was his fault.
***
Ribbs was already waiting for him as Anthony entered his apartment. The pain in his eye had gone from burning to throbbing and aching. He still did not dare open his eye, and he did not care. He had paid Vince, who had eyed the money suspiciously, Molly's blood staining almost every bill red at one corner. But he had taken it anyway and sold Anthony his entire supply. It was enough to give the entire drag club the best drug trip of their lives. Anthony took the bundle with him, sitting down on the windowsill. Ribbs immediately jumped into his lap, snuggled up against his chest, and looked up at him almost questioningly, as if she could sense something was wrong with him, something was broken inside him. Molly was dead. Jonny was dead. Pops was dead. Their blood was on his hands, and he still remembered the high he felt after riddling his father with bullets, and then the emptiness came back to him. Pops was dead, and he had killed him.
Anthony unfolded the bag Vince had given him, enough snow to keep him going for at least one month…or to make him forget what happened for one night. He tilted his head back and poured the entire contents of the bag into his mouth, not even bothering to snort it or heat it up. Then he threw the bag away. The effect was slow to kick in, and Anthony had no idea how long he sat there, slowly petting Ribbs' fur as the images still played out before his eyes. Molly dead. Jonny dead. Pops dead. And it was his fault. Ribbs purred softly against his chest, and her purring slowly and surely lulled him to sleep, the images blurring and, with them, so did he. The next thing Anthony saw was a scarlet sky with a huge black moon, inscribed with a glowing red pentagram and next to it a glowing white, round construction made of wings.