Page 21 of Capo Baby, All Of Your Heart Will Do
“What do you want to watch,” I ask, leaning into him.
“Whatever you want to see,” Chris says, sliding his arm around my waist pulling me closer.
“Oh, okay. You’re going to be sorry you said that because I’m going to see the girl flick,” I say, giggling.
“Yeah, I knew it, but it’s worth it,” Chris says, kissing my neck.
“Hmm. . . . . ah,” moaning, closing my eyes.
“Let me order the pizza because I’m getting hungry,” Chris says, kissing my cheek.
He pulls out his cell to make the call to order the pizza.
We spend the evening watching the movie, eating pizza, and later we’re making love.
I fall asleep, but sometimes during the night, I wake up. Chris is not in bed. I get out to look for him, but he’s not in the apartment. I bite my lower lip, sliding into the bed. The phone call that Chris was on earlier in the day flashes through my mind.
Oh yeah, he’s out taking care of the Mafiosos business.
Cristiano
I stay flat on my stomach, looking through the scoop of my lens, waiting for the target to come out of the fucking dive bar.
I wonder what this poor motherfucker did to piss off the client.
It doesn’t matter; it’s a fucking job, nothing more, nothing less.
I wait for a while on the cold misty night. Of fuckingcourse, it’s always cold in San Francisco, but it is especially cold at night when it’s foggy.
Thank fuck it’s not raining yet.
Finally, the motherfucker walks out of the dive bar looking around the parking lot as if he knows that someone is hunting him down.
Yeah, these motherfuckers know damn well that they did something that will get them killed.
I watch him turn to walk to his car, pull out his keys from his jacket. I wait until he enters his car; right before starting the car, I pull the trigger. The bullet goes right into the side door glass, and I see the splatter of blood and brain matter all over the windows.
The fucking thunder and lightning blasts in the night at the same moment that I kill him.
How fucking poetic.
The motherfucker dies inside his car.
No mess.
I turn over onto my back, pushing up from the rooftop floor. I run across the rooftop, the fucking rain starts pouring, and jump over to the next roof. I run down the fire escape, down the street to my car. I open the trunk, placing my sniper rifle in the case. I get into my car, pull off my ski mask throwing it on the floor, turn on the fucking windshield wipers since it’s fucking pouring down. I press down on the gas pedal, driving away from the curb.
After thirty minutes, I drive into my apartment parking garage, pulling into my parking spot. I get out of my car, taking long strides towards the elevator, pushing the button.
I walk into the elevator, push the button to my floor, shoving my hands into my jacket. I watch the numbers change until it gets to my floor. Then, I walk out of the elevator and stop.
It’s fucking early for my brother to be looking for me, so something is wrong.
“Nicola, what’s up,” I ask, furrowing my forehead.
Nicola is soaked; he looks so damn pale and fucking shaking. He has a swollen bruised eye, and split lip.
He’s fucking scaring me; what the hell happened?
