The day peeked in through a set of brown curtains, a halo of white against the murk of the room. The sheets had been torn from the motel bed, spilling over the stiff mattress and onto the floor. Demos pushed himself upright, a ghost rising from a corpse. His spine curved, slow and jutted, his hair draped over his eyes. Once again, he had woken in the Bliss Motel and, once again, he couldn\u2019t remember who was laying next to him.<\/p>\n
He closed his eyes. Perhaps, if he thought deeply enough, he could be somewhere else \u2014 in a simple, yet decidedly warm bed, surrounded by that austere, clean smell, the one that reminded him of old books and rosin. He imagined a pair of arms, long and lean, wrapped over him like a old sweater. Demos smiled.<\/p>\n
\u201cMorning, Babe.\u201d<\/p>\n
Two words were all it took to demolish his fantasy. His smile dropped, leaving his features cold. It wasn\u2019t the voice he\u2019d hoped for.<\/p>\n
It was never the voice he\u2019d hoped for.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Demos rubbed his eyes, not bothering to look at the man beside him. \u201cI told you not to call me that.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat? I think it\u2019s cute.\u201d<\/p>\n
The more Demos heard the other\u2019s voice, the colder his skin felt. Every detail of the room grew more vivid, more real \u2014 the dingy wallpaper, the smudges on the mirror and the lingering odor of window cleaner. Nausea crept in. He looked down at his hands, eyes drifting to the two-day-old bruises on his wrists.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m not in the fucking mood.\u201d<\/p>\n
The mattress shifted, followed by hot breath on the back of his ear. \u201cWell, you sure were in the mood last night.\u201d<\/p>\n
Demos winced at the memory, every muscle in his body tensing at once. It had happened again, the way it always did. Chasing distractions, attempting to fill that hole in his chest with something, anything. It was easy to imagine at night. But, God, did he hate these mornings.<\/p>\n
\u201cBut, anyway,\u201d the voice continued, \u201cI really enjoyed it \u2014 yesterday, all of it. I know it\u2019s only been a few weeks, but I think I really\u2014\u201c<\/p>\n
\u201cDon\u2019t.\u201d<\/p>\n
There was a pause. \u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNot now, Tommy.\u201d<\/p>\n
The air conditioner sputtered. After a breath, Demos felt the hands slip from his shoulders. There was a shuffling as the man gathered his clothes, fastening his pants with a metallic zip<\/i>.<\/p>\n
\u201cMy name is Tracy.\u201d<\/p>\n
Sunlight flooded the room, then vanished as the door slammed shut. A cup on the dresser toppled, then rolled to a stop. Demos was alone once more.<\/p>\n
Teeth grit, he dug a silver case from his rumpled slacks, lighting a cigarette with a click<\/i> and a snap<\/i>. He huffed a plume through his nose, his vision momentarily clouded with smoke.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhatever, Tommy.\u201d<\/p>\n
#<\/p>\n
Smoke had filled the back room of Valesio\u2019s Butcher Shop. It was as if the entire space was in monochrome, its walls stark white, its stainless steel countertops and cutting machines laid beneath rows of black hooks. There wasn\u2019t a cut of meat to be seen, yet Demos could still smell it \u2014 the odor of thawing flanks and sausage grinder residue. It was a miracle one could smell anything beyond cigarette smoke, as the men seated at the table had already filled the ashtray to the brim.<\/p>\n
\u201cBullshit.\u201d The man across Demos leaned in, leering. \u201cYou name one of our fucking guys you saw at that warehouse.\u201d<\/p>\n
Compared to the Ghost, Bruno Mariani was twice as old, and twice as wide \u2014 a caporegime in a struggling syndicate, a big fish in a small pond. His grimace was wide, ready to swallow the boy whole.<\/p>\n
Somehow, Demos held his ground. \u201cWe didn\u2019t have to\u2014\u201c<\/p>\n
\u201cYou\u2019re wasting our time, kid. Some camel-fuckers bust up your little gun show and the first thing you think to do is come at us? Really, we did it? Says fuckin\u2019 who?\u201d<\/p>\n
Demos swallowed. Hassan had given him further details before leaving the clinic \u2014 which Mariani had passed down the order, how many men they had requested, at what time. It would be easy to throw Hassan under the bus, to use his testimony as the perfect glove-slap across Bruno\u2019s face. Hassan, however, had gone through enough near-death experiences in the last week. It wouldn\u2019t be right to give him another.<\/p>\n
\u201cSays me.\u201d Demos crushed his cigarette out, keeping his eyes on Bruno. \u201cThat\u2019s some cowardly shit, hiding behind the Arabs. It fits you to a T.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cGino, your boy\u2019s got a real mouth on him. Maybe you should seat him back at the kiddie table before he gets it smacked the fuck off.\u201d<\/p>\n
Ferris tensed in place, his hand tightening on the back of Demos\u2019 chair.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou asked for him, Bruno.\u201d Gino tugged a handkerchief from his pocket, dabbing at his forehead. \u201cAnd if you can\u2019t handle a boy, you\u2019re welcome to negotiate with someone your own size.\u201d<\/p>\n
With decisive, even movements, Gino folded the silk handkerchief. Bruno stared at the cloth as it turned in Gino\u2019s aged hands, his eyes catching the initials in the corner – GG. There had been many of its kind through the years, all a deep blue, all left draped over the faces of men once living \u2014 men who had rubbed him the wrong way.<\/p>\n
Bruno swallowed, the knob on his throat lurching. His attention flickered back to the younger Giorgetti.<\/p>\n
\u201cThis is about Six Pines,\u201d Demos said. \u201cThe Arabs don\u2019t have any stake in it. You do.\u201d<\/p>\n
At this, Bruno smiled. \u201cYeah, Six Pines.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou stopped by, didn\u2019t you?\u201d said the man at Bruno\u2019s side. He was younger, with a head of thick, dark hair. There was something familiar about him, something that made Demos\u2019 skin crawl.<\/p>\n
\u201cI might have.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cSo maybe you call tell us why Sandro never came home.\u201d<\/p>\n
Demos swallowed. That was it \u2014 Sandro. The man looked like Sandro.<\/p>\n
\u201cI don\u2019t know any Sandro.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cBullshit you don\u2019t. Went up himself, said he wanted to check things out. You wanna tell us what happened to him?\u201d<\/p>\n
Demos\u2019 hands fisted under the table. \u201cI told you, I don\u2019t know\u2014\u201c<\/p>\n
\u201cYou call us<\/i> cowards \u2014 you call us<\/i> liars? You fucking killed him!\u201d<\/p>\n
Bruno sighed. \u201cAldo.\u201d<\/p>\n
Demos had heard the name before. Aldo, one of Bruno\u2019s crew \u2014 Aldo DeSimone.<\/p>\n
Aldo was shouting now, his eyes burning pink. \u201cYou killed my brother!\u201d<\/p>\n
Victor shifted. Demos could feel his uncle\u2019s glare boring at him from the right. Sweat began to build on the back of Demos\u2019 neck and in his palms, threatening to blow his composed facade.<\/p>\n
Demos kept his eyes forward, daring to quirk his lip. \u201cSays fuckin\u2019 who?\u201d<\/p>\n
The table scuffed the floor as Aldo leapt forward. There was a clank<\/i> as the ashtray hit the floor, spilling a mass of crumpled cigarette butts. Hands scrambled for Demos\u2019 throat, only to be crushed under the man\u2019s own body as he was thrust to the tabletop with a thump<\/i>. He ground his teeth, blinking sweat from his eyes as he looked up to see a man with glasses \u2014 one who hadn\u2019t moved until that very moment.<\/p>\n
\u201cHe said he never met him,\u201d Ferris said, pinning Aldo with his shoulder. Demos stared from his seat, his heart racing as he watched the man struggle.<\/p>\n
Aldo spat. \u201cYou got proof he didn\u2019t?\u201d<\/p>\n
Ferris\u2019 hold tightened, corkscrewing Aldo\u2019s arm against his ribs. \u201cYou have proof he did?\u201d<\/p>\n
The bulb flickered overhead. The room was quiet, with only Aldo\u2019s pants cutting through the stifling air.<\/p>\n
Victor was the first to speak. \u201cBack up, Fish.\u201d<\/p>\n
A few seconds passed before Ferris relaxed his hold. Aldo shoved him off, dusting the chest of his powder-blue suit. He muttered under his breath, in words barely recognizable as curses.<\/p>\n
Bruno lifted his head. \u201cYou watch your back, kid.\u201d<\/p>\n
Demos stood. His shadow hung over the veneer, casting a dark patch over Bruno\u2019s chest as he walked past.<\/p>\n
\u201cLikewise.\u201d<\/p>\n
Though it was still summer, the outside air had never felt fresher. The back room of the butcher shop was clearly never meant to house such a number of men, though Demos wasn\u2019t sure it was suitable for housing meat, either. He took a deep breath, sliding down in the backseat of Victor\u2019s Lincoln.<\/p>\n
\u201cGhost,\u201d came a voice from the front. Demos looked up, catching his uncle\u2019s glare in the rearview mirror. He hurried to straighten himself, clearing his throat before speaking.<\/p>\n
\u201cYes?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou wanna tell me why Bruno\u2019s boy thinks you killed his brother?\u201d<\/p>\n
Demos mouth opened, but he couldn\u2019t seem to gather an answer. How could he tell the truth, right there in front of his uncle, in front of his grandfather? The truth \u2014 that Sandro had gotten him halfway into bed before threatening him with blackmail \u2014 that he had to bury Sandro, just as he had to bury that secret.<\/p>\n
The front seat creaked as Victor shifted, turning to face his nephew.<\/p>\n
\u201cLook at me, Demos. You look me right in the eyes and you tell me the truth.\u201d<\/p>\n
Demos exhaled. \u201cBecause I did.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cMa che cazzo!\u201d There was a honk<\/i> as Victor\u2019s fist pounded the steering wheel. Fortunately, Demos was too petrified to jump.<\/p>\n
Victor grasped his forehead with both hands, fingers digging through the white hair at his temples. \u201cCoglione, you fucking idiot! What was the one thing I told you not to do?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cMake a mess,\u201d Demos said under his breath.<\/p>\n
\u201cAnd what did you fucking do?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cMake a mess.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat part of \u2018you\u2019re just there to talk\u2019 did you not understand? You need to make a hit, you ask me.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHe came after me,\u201d Demos said. \u201cI couldn\u2019t exactly tell him to wait while I\u2014\u201c<\/p>\n
\u201cYou think I like finding this shit out through a cat fight in a fucking meat shop? You report to me, you tell me. What the fuck were you thinking?\u201d<\/p>\n
Demos closed his eyes. \u201cI\u2019m sorry, Uncle Vic.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWell, you can think about how sorry you are when you\u2019re walking home.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cBut I don\u2019t\u2014\u201c<\/p>\n
\u201cOut.\u201d<\/p>\n
Demos had made many mistakes in the last week, but he wouldn\u2019t make the mistake of drawing out this argument. He said nothing as he slunk from the back seat and onto the white hot parking lot in front of the butcher shop. Ferris followed after, leaving Victor and Gino inside, in the front \u2014 in the air conditioning.<\/p>\n
\u201cDon\u2019t get lost, Piccolo,\u201d Gino said through the cracked window. \u201cI need you to help me with dinner. Take a taxi if\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cDad! Cut that out, you keep spoiling him.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cCerto, certo.\u201d Gino waved both hands in defeat. \u201cNo taxi.\u201d<\/p>\n
It was only a moment later that the old man gave his grandson a wink. Demos gave a weak smile in return, watching as the car rumbled to life, then disappeared down the far end of the street. All that was left was two figures in the parking lot, dark shapes against the parched concrete.<\/p>\n
Demos squinted, attempting to read his phone screen through the glare. \u201cHe didn\u2019t kick you out, you know.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHe knew I\u2019d follow you,\u201d Ferris said. \u201cCan\u2019t have you \u2014 wait, what are you doing?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cCalling a cab.\u201d Demos held the phone to his ear, waiting for the ring.<\/p>\n
\u201cBut Victor said\u2014\u201c<\/p>\n
\u201cNonno winked. That means its okay.\u201d<\/p>\n
Ferris released a slow sigh. \u201cYou really are spoiled, you know.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYeah, yeah. Shut up, they\u2019re answering.\u201d<\/p>\n
Ferris eyed the street as Demos made the call, noting the lines of old row houses past a sun-bleached stop sign. They didn\u2019t know this part of town. If they did manage to find a train station, he was certain they\u2019d be drenched with sweat by the time they reached it. As much as he hated to admit it, a cab was the best way home.<\/p>\n
Demos would have to learn humility some other way.<\/p>\n
\u201cAll right, he\u2019ll be here in five.\u201d Demos stuffed his phone into his back pocket, then glanced around for a source of shade. \u201cHopefully he\u2019ll be on time, unlike you.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI was only a minute late. I had to come from the other side of town.\u201d<\/p>\n
Demos gave him a sideways look. \u201cYou were at Alex\u2019s?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYeah. And you\u2019re one to fucking talk. I\u2019m surprised you managed time for this between your espresso breaks and afternoon naps.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYeah, well\u2014\u201c Demos\u2019 features softened. \u201cWell, I\u2019m glad you came. When did you get that strong, anyway?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat do you mean, \u2018what?\u2019 When you nailed Aldo to that fucking table like a plank of wood,\u201d he said, his face reddening.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou think I go to the gym with Sergio for fun?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cOh, right,\u201d Demos said as they found shelter beneath the butcher shop awning. \u201cYou still do that.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou\u2019ve got to stop running your mouth like that. He was ready to tear off your head.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou know as well as I do that\u2019s never going to happen.\u201d<\/p>\n
Ferris stared up at the awning, knowing better than to argue. It was true \u2014 as long as the earth turned east, as long as time ticked on, Demos would continue to run his fucking mouth.<\/p>\n
\u201cUm, by the way,\u201d Demos said, now shuffling in his suit pocket. \u201cYou doing anything tonight?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNot really, no.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWell, here. I got you these.\u201d<\/p>\n
Ferris looked down at the envelope he\u2019d been handed. Tucked neatly below the white flap was a pair of tickets, printed in blue and gold.<\/p>\n
Southport Natural History Museum – Annual Gala – 7:00pm<\/i><\/p>\n
Ferris paled. \u201cThe Museum Gala? You\u2019re taking me to\u2014\u201c<\/p>\n
\u201cNo.\u201d Demos shook his head. \u201cI want you to take Alex. Just think of it as\u2014 as an apology.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cBut how the hell did you get these?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI just made a little donation in your name. You deserve a night off.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cJesus, Demos. I\u2014 you didn\u2019t have to do this. But\u2014\u201d In spite of the sweat under his collar, Ferris pulled his friend into his arms. He couldn\u2019t remember the last time they\u2019d embraced, but every time he was reminded of just how small Demos was.<\/p>\n
\u201cBut thanks. She\u2019ll love this.\u201d<\/p>\n
Demos mumbled into Ferris\u2019 shoulder. \u201cHave a good time, okay?\u201d<\/p>\n
A honk cut through the air. It was a car from the curb \u2014 their cab. They stepped apart, both forcing laughs as their moment was interrupted by a second tap at the horn.<\/p>\n
\u201cComing,\u201d Demos called, wiping sweat from his eyes as they left the shade \u2014 at least, it seemed to be sweat. It had to be.<\/p>\n
The doors shut with two slams and the cab peeled out down the blistering asphalt.<\/p>\n
From the side of the butcher shop, Aldo flicked away a cigarette butt. He squinted, watching as the taillights of the cab grew smaller down the end of the road.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou ever been to a gala, Lou?\u201d he asked the taller man at his side.<\/p>\n
\u201cNah.\u201d The man leaned against the brick, giving Aldo a thin smile. \u201cBut it sounds like fun.\u201d<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
The day peeked in through a set of brown curtains, a halo of white against the murk of the room. The sheets had been torn from the motel bed, spilling over the stiff mattress and onto the floor. Demos pushed himself upright, a ghost rising from a corpse. His spine curved, slow and jutted, his […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_active":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_note":"","_monsterinsights_sitenote_category":0,"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":true,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","enabled":false},"version":2}},"categories":[5],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-386","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-fishbones-book-02"],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p4oWx8-6e","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"post_mailing_queue_ids":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.fishbonescomic.com\/novel\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/386","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.fishbonescomic.com\/novel\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.fishbonescomic.com\/novel\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.fishbonescomic.com\/novel\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.fishbonescomic.com\/novel\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=386"}],"version-history":[{"count":6,"href":"http:\/\/www.fishbonescomic.com\/novel\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/386\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":574,"href":"http:\/\/www.fishbonescomic.com\/novel\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/386\/revisions\/574"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.fishbonescomic.com\/novel\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=386"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.fishbonescomic.com\/novel\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=386"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.fishbonescomic.com\/novel\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=386"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}