Page 169 of Vita Mia

“I’ll try. For the next week or so I may not be able too. But when I can I will.”

“I heard Jilly say you were in Arica? Why?” she asked.

“A little stop along the way. I wanted to pet a giraffe,” he chuckled.

Shae didn’t.

“Mybambini? Are they missing me?”

“The night time is the worst. Bathing them both and getting them to sleep without you is hard. But I got plenty of help. I heard on the news that Giovanni was moved to another prison in Rome. They are reporting on everything here in the States because of Mirabella. The media said she hasn’t been seen. Nothing is said about Renaldo.”

“Thanks for telling me.”

“Carlo?”

“Yes?”

“I know you have to do things. The kind of things you wouldn’t do if you had a choice. I, ah, I’m your wife. I understand. I do. I don’t want you to think about me, or what I would think. Do what you have too, to stay alive and come home to me. That’s all I need.”

He smiled.

“Grazie. Your support is all I need.”

“I love you so much.”

“Ti amo,” he said.

“Rolando is here, he wants to talk to you.”

Carlo spoke to Rolando and assured him of his safety. He spoke again to Jilly and reminded her to be respectful when he was gone. It was Jilly’s idea for him to talk to the babies. She put the phone to his daughter’s ear and he heard her coo at him. He sang a little nursery rhyme in Italian to her. And then he had his chance with Carmine who was all baby talk. It hurt to say goodbye to his family. But when he did he felt centered again.

His gaze switched to the closed door. He could hear the noise of the visitors in the hostel. He could hear the giggles of the girls and the sexual grunts of the men. And he knew Abedi would not let him leave things as he did before. He ran his zipper down and reached into his shorts and removed his dick. He wrapped his hand around it and tugged on it. After a few strokes with his mind working up images of the last night he spent with Shae he ejaculated all over his pants. He sat up and sighed. Carlo went to the bathroom in his room and stripped then showered. He stroked his dick again and jerked it hard to get the rest of the energy spent. With a towel around his waist he returned to the bed and sat on it. If Abedi did crawl into his bed with opium and pussy as a treat he’d send her on her way. He was stronger than he was before. He opened his wallet and looked at the picture of his kids. Rolando held Jewel and Jilly held Carmine as they posed for the family photo. He eased it out of the plastic and turned it over. It said: ‘We love you Papa’. It was a gift from Jilly before he left. He smiled and let go another deep sigh. He put the wallet on the desk. The doorknob to his room opened. Abedi walked in. He looked up at her. She carried a basket of fruit and homemade wine.

“You have to eat Carlo. And you shouldn’t do it alone. I have missed my Italian. Make a deal with me Carlo. My way.”

He shook his head at her. Abedi smiled and closed the door.

***

TWO DAYS LATER

Carlo walked into the airport with his entourage. Though a chartered plane for the trip was paid for by Abedi’s people. He and the men he requested had to undergo a customs inspection and review. One of the officials questioned Carlo longer than he liked and he feared it might lead to trouble. But he was eventually cleared. Once they were in the air he started a card game with his companions and shared very little of their mission. His focus was to decide on the strongest from the weakest. By the time the plane landed he’d made the decision of life and death. He was home. And he was ready.

***

“BATTAGLIA!” THE GUARDbanged on his cell door. Giovanni sat up from his bunk. He set down the book he’d been reading. It had been a month since he was moved from hell to his new jail home. He’d had no contact with anyone. Not even his attorneys. He spent his days doing pushups in his cell and reading books the guards gave him.

“Che cosa vuoi—what do you want?” he replied.

“Parlare—to talk,” the guard answered.

Giovanni frowned. The voice didn’t sound like the guard who checked on him regularly. It sounded different. He stood and turned with his hands behind his back. The cell door was opened. He didn’t bother to look back. Not until he was shackled. Though he had not been the aggressor since his incarceration, they treated him like a high-risk inmate. He was on twenty-three-hour lockdown every day and only allowed from his cell to shower and to spend thirty minutes in the courtyard.

“Turn,” the visitor said.

He turned and faced an officer of the Carabinieri.

“Out,” the officer commanded.

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