Page 8 of Destino

“I’m no fool. I know where there are lies, underneath there is some truth.” Giovanni tossed the spoon to the stove.

“Don Battaglia! I can assure you, I have done nothing. I swear it.”

Giovanni set his focus on the pleading man. He studied him for a moment. Francesco crawled, scuttled over to him and grabbed his pant leg. He reached up and snatched Giovanni’s hand to kiss his family’s ring. Francesco vowed to prove his innocence if he was shown mercy. Lorenzo looked away incensed. Even though he loved his cousin, the jealousy over Giovanni’s role in the family ate away at his pride. He didn’t know how much more of this scene he could stomach.

“Bring her in.” Giovanni said to Dominic. He stroked the top of Francesco’s head like one would do a pet. Lorenzo tracked Domi’s movements a bit curious. Who washer?

In less than three minutes Dominic returned with a very frail, very pale, young girl. Lorenzo guessed her to be no more than thirteen, and by the way she was dressed he could tell she’d been abused quite often. Draped over her thin shoulders she wore Dominic’s suit jacket. Underneath it a tattered sequined green mini with a thin grey halter-top. Her feet bare, her thighs and knees were covered in bruises, scrapes, and welts. Shock registered through him. Yes. He dealt with whores, but they were over the legal age, and willing. The raid on his place, he assumed, was a set up. Possibly by the runt Calderone out of Genoa, and he intended to deal with it. Now this child before him revealed he had no idea what Francesco had sunk their business into.

The man he thought he knew stopped his sniveling and stared at the girl. His gaze glazed over with something indecipherable for Lorenzo. The stupid fucker actually looked at the child with lust.

Giovanni walked over to the girl. He lifted her chin with his index finger so she could lift her gaze upward to his face. He spoke softly to her in Spanish; his cousin spoke six different languages. Lorenzo only knew Italian, English and Spanish. Giovanni told her she had no reason to be afraid. She was to do as he asked and then she would be returned to her family. He cast his gaze behind him to Francesco who now managed to stand. “Who is this man to you?”

“My master.” The child answered.

Francesco shook his head fiercely. “I found the poor thing. Saved her. I gave her a place to stay. Protected her. Tell them. I protect you don’t I?”

Lorenzo’s rage gripped his gut turning it sour. He itched to draw his gun and unload. He was wrong.Again he was wrong!This motherfucker was trafficking young girls. Doing it under his nose. He took a step forward and Giovanni stopped him with a look. He cleared his throat and spoke to the room. “I knew nothing of this. Francesco never brought that girl here, any girls this young here.”

“Take her away Domi,” Giovanni ordered.

The girl rushed Giovanni and hugged him. Lorenzo noticed the discomfort in his cousin’s face but saw that he tolerated the child’s gratitude. She glared at Francesco. Spat at him and cursed him in Spanish as Dominic led her away. Francesco put his face in his hands. Lorenzo could do nothing but be a spectator in silence. To say anything more would damn him for sure. For his family he was now guilty by association. There was no explaining it away. There was lowlife scum in theCammorathat dealt in the prostitution of kids, trafficking, drugs. But it was not something the Battaglia’s did. There was pride to be taken in their family. Pride Don Tomosino died protecting, and Giovanni swore to uphold. Yes, Lorenzo wanted them to move into the future, but after witnessing Francesco’s actions first hand he had to wonder if again he was wrong.

Giovanni approached Francesco, never taking his gaze off him. His hands eased into his pockets. Carlo and Nico both stepped on either side of Francesco. “You likebambinas?” Giovanni asked.

“No. She looks older than…”

Giovanni slapped him.

Francesco whimpered.

“You like babies?” he repeated.

Francesco looked to him again. He didn’t know how to answer Lorenzo supposed. Giovanni’s gaze hardened. “You are a sick man. Aren’t you?”

Francesco nodded.

Giovanni patted the cheek that he struck. “I’ll cure you of this sickness.”

“Carlo!” Giovanni commanded.

“Madonna santa!Wait! Wait! No!” Francesco squealed. Carlo grabbed one arm and Nico the other. The two of them lifted Francesco up from the ground. Renaldo swiped all pots and dishes off the steal table and Francesco was slammed on top. “I swear to you on all that is holy and sacred, I only wanted to help her. Lorenzo! Speak for me!”

Lorenzo raised his chin slowly and shrugged his shoulders. “Che me ne frego?What the fuck do I care?”

Giovanni plucked a knife from the butcher’s block. Lorenzo silently cursed the fool and the mother who birthed him for his despicable crimes and denounced their alliance. He wasn’t sure if Giovanni believed his innocence, but hewasinnocent. His cousin set the knife aside and folded the sleeves of his shirt up to the bend in his arms. He selected two large oven mittens from the stove and Lorenzo stepped back. He could act. Say something to spare Francesco his fate. But after seeing the abuse heaped upon that child he agreed with Giovanni that this punishment was just.

“No! No! Noooo!” Francesco begged. Giovanni lifted the pot and carried it before him. The sauce continued to bubble within its self-contained heat. Francesco kicked and bucked against the strong arms holding him down. Giovanni dumped the bubbling hot sauce over the man’s head and face. The screams were ungodly. Francesco thrashed as his skin and hair boiled away from his skull. The men released him and the death screams filled the room. He bucked so hard he flipped over the table and landed with a thud to the floor. His feet kicking, his hands and arms twitching, nothing but horrific gurgling sounds escaped him.

Lorenzo glanced around as others stood there watching his death throws curiously. “I had nothing to do with what he has done. NOTHING!”

After a pause and once Francesco went still and silent, possibly dead, Giovanni tossed the empty pot, and removed his oven mittens. Lorenzo braced for whatever was to come next. To his relief his cousin turned and walked out of the kitchen. Lorenzo glanced to Carlo and silently pled for understanding. His best friend nodded that he believed him. Somehow he’d convince Giovanni. He had to.

****

After three carafes of the best wine she’d ever drank in her life, they barely made it through the door. “I’m going to bed.” Fabiana announced with an exaggerated yawn. Her friend spun on her heel and started toward her room.

“Freeze.” Mira said. She stepped out of her high-heels and staggered across the plush carpeting down into the sunken living room area that separated their en-suites. Mira began to gingerly remove the diamond studs from her ear. She swayed right and left as if she’d topple over. The urge to explode in a fit of giggles kept forcing smiles to her lips even though she meant business. “Out with it Fabiana.”

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