MAMMA MIA!

ARIANNA’S POV.

“Don’t be rude!” I rolled my eyes at the lady in front of me who wanted a coffee.

“Did you… did you all see that?” She looked around to see if people thought the same as her, pointing an accusing finger at me.

“Ma’am, you’re holding up the line.” A tall man from behind sneered.

She’d managed to change her order about 6 times already in a row and I was getting sick and tired of it, alongside the people behind her on the queue.

‘Just fucking place an order and go sit down somewhere.’ was what I intended saying but I kept my mouth shut. As much as I hated my job, it was the only thing I had and whether I liked it or not, we were in America and the customer was always right.

I was about to ask her if she wanted any other thing else as politely as I could muster but U was cut offf by a loud boom. The next thing we heard was the shatter of glass and the wheezing o bullets. Screams and screeches erupted from across the building and pandemonium ensued.

“Everybody get the fuck down.” Anselmo’s commanding voice ordered amidst all the noise. I did as I was told. Nobody needed to tell me twice that it was the only way my head could stay on my head.

My blood ran cold at the sight by my leg. The lady who had pissed me off with her changing incessant and indecisive order had a bullet that had pierced through her skull with blood pooling around her now very white body.

‘Fuck!’ I screamed internally. The gunshots from outside grew louder as we all held our heads down.

Not a-fucking-gain.

It was the third time this week. Small Italian mafia gangs around liked to use the street outside our building as a place to settle feuds. That’s what Anselmo liked to say. Personally, I thought that was stupid but I couldn’t tell Anselmo that. He’d fire my ass all the way to Pluto. If there was always a shoot out, then nothing was getting settled. These guys just liked to play with weapons and never considered the lives of innocent civilians.

We usually waited a couple minutes for the cops to arrive before we lifted up our heads and carried on with the day’s work like nothing ever happened.

You’d think that’d stop businesses from functioning. Not in this part of the ghetto. People were used to it on this side of the streets. They just hoped they wouldn’t end up a casualty.

Week after week, there were bodies always riddled with bullets that the medics had to carry for autopsy. Even a child could tell you the cause of their deaths. If we were being honest, it was purely for formality and media coverage.

The government didn’t care what happened on this side of the state. All they ever wanted was for one person to nab as the scapegoat and parade him in front of their citizens, something they found particularly difficult to do.

If you knew the Italian mafia, no matter how small, you’d know that you could never catch one alive. If they weren’t dead yet, they’d be dead before the government had the time to arraign them before the court.

“An incident has happened in Nicetown-Tioga her in Philadelphia and…” I zoned the news lady out as I found my way to the back of the building, away from the cameras. They could be quite intrusive when they wanted to which was every time.

“Young lady, young lady…” The woman grabbed my hand with so much force I almost stumbled into her.

“What do you have to say about the incident that has happened? Could it be a rival war or just business gone wrong?” I righted my self and tried to shield my eyes away from the lights and camera clicks.

How the fuck was I supposed to know? I only worked here for people who thought a local crime spot was the perfect place to have their breakfast.

I pulled my hands away from the lady angrily and Anselmo came to my rescue, pushing the woman off.

“Get the fuck out of here.”

While Anselmo was Brazilian, he knew the ins and outs of Nicetown and the fact that snitches got stitches. Anyone’s face on national television just meant an automatic target on your back.

He took care of the rest while I found my way to the door that led all the way to the next street from the alley. I needed to take a breather.

My breath came out in harsh stops and I rested against the wall, my heart pounding wildly against my rib cage. The last time something of this nature had happened to me was when my parents died. I’d gone to Italy, Florence on a vacation and hadn’t seen them in years.

I was 19 at that time.

I was born in Florence but due to some reasons best known to my parents, they’d sent me out of the country as soon as possible. I’d grown up in the states and only saw them during vacations. Then we’d spend as much time as possible with one another, just making up for lost time but three years ago, I’d decided to come to Florence myself.

It didn’t exactly feel right that as an Italian, I’d never seen the country for myself and I had just missed my family so much.

We were supposed to meet at the winter garden restaurant. I’d been there a little early, just watching them from the window, waiting for their arrival.

I looked at the time. If there was anything I knew about my parents as Italians, it was that they always like to be on time.

When I looked up from my watch, I saw them from the window. 10 minutes before time, as expected but I hadn’t expected what happened next.

“No!” I screamed at the top of my lungs as I watched both of them fall to the ground, bullet holes between their eyes. My parents, business people who sold watches for a living had been victims of a shoot out. I’d cried blood that day. It took policemen and medics to pull me away from their dead bodies. That day, my life had ended and I’d a new hatred for Italy and its people. I’d changed my name from Arianna Bocelli to Victoria for anyone who cared to ask.

A deep Italian voice caught me off guard in the slightly dark alley. I thought I was alone. I took a brief peep and saw three guys huddled together. They hadn’t seen me yet since I was behind a dumpster and I felt irritated at having to hear them talk. I didn’t speak Italian so I had no idea what they were saying. Thankfully, one of them spoke in English, albeit with a heavy Italian accent that I had to strain my ears to hear what they were saying.

It felt wrong to eavesdrop but I knew going back inside could alert them and I could be in big trouble.

“The Amatos are here?” Fear gripped me on recognition of the name. It was no secret that the Amatos had grown over the past few years, staying at the top of the food chain in Italy and then spreading far and wide across the continent. They were in business, health, politics, you name it. They had power over who had power. It was that insane. If the Amatos were here, it only meant one thing.

Eavesdropping would cost me my life. They were quite engrossed in what they were saying, speculating that the arrival of the Amatos in Philly triggered the fight that had happened.

“Theo shouldn’t have instigated that fight.” Now I knew the name of the perpetrators. I was fucked.

“Even if Fibonacci had ordered it, it shouldn’t have been all over the local news. He’s dead meat.” Fibonacci as in Andrea Fibonacci? This streets leader? These people were part of the fight that had happened a few minutes ago.

Fuck fuck fuck.

In a bid to stifle my words, my elbows hit the dumpster, the sound of the metal echoing in the small space.

“Who’s there?” My heart skipped a beat at the harsh tone. I heard the click of a gun. I was going to die here. Mamma mia! It was the only expression I knew well enough in Italian.

The good news was, I was at the mouth of the alley which meant I could easily escape into the open.

The bad news, you couldn’t be faster than a bullet but I’d rather die trying. So, I didn’t think twice and ran, ducking as I heard bullets wheeze past me, one nicking the tip of my ear. I yelped in pain but didn’t stop until I was far away and didn’t hear anyone following behind me.

“Fuck!” I placed my hands on my racing heart, hoping it would calm down so my breaths didn’t feel so choked.

Usually, when shootouts happened at work, we usually took a day break to get things back in order.

“Business waits for no man.” Anselmo would say and I would reply back.

“Time, Anselmo, time.” He would only eye me and scowl at me, causing me to laugh.

I didn’t need to go back to work today so, I went back home. A little run down apartment that still served all my basic needs but I made a mistake. I didn’t keep my guard up.

***

The bag over my head was removed and I had to squint due to the sudden brightness of the light. Men had come in the middle of the night to whisk me away to probably kill me. My head rang with pain as I felt blood drip from the side of my head, where I’d been hit with a bat because I’d refused to cooperate.

“This is her.”

“The little rat.” I looked at Fibonacci as he sat like the king he thought he was. Fibonacci was a small fry compared to the rest of the Italian mafia. An extremely small fry but that didn’t mean I didn’t fear him. In fact, I’d be stupid not to.

“Such a pity a pretty young thing has to die.”

One of the guys who’d dragged me here pointed a gun in my face. I closed my eyes in preparation. Mama, Papa, I held out for quite a while, no?

There was a deafening sound and I felt a heavy weight hit my shoulders.

Fuck!