“We’re gonna hang on to you until the princess comes home. Then, whatever.”
The doctor unbuckles my arms. I can punch him in the face now. Instead, I fall to the floor like a sack of sticks and skin, landing a few inches from the brass drain in the middle of the room. Blood has gathered in the seam between the concrete and the metal. The shoes stepping into and out of my vision avoid it.
“Stay away.” Sarah’s not here, but I talk to her anyway. “Don’t come.”
Above me, the rack is lowered onto its frame and turned back into a bed.
“Stay away.”
Sergio puts his foot under my shoulder and rolls me onto my back.
“Hm.” The doctor’s sound is a little sharper, as if he’s satisfied.
“I know you’re worried about the princess. They told me about the hollowing thing, but honestly, women rebound from shit all the time. They’re like rubber. She’ll get over it.”
CHAPTER 4
SARAH
Tommy points the gun at my face, and I roll down the window with my other hand up to prove it’s empty. Junior motions for his father to lower his weapon.
“She’s all right, Pop.”
“Get her gun, then tell me.”
I put up both hands. “Take it.”
“Sorry, someone saw this.” He takes the pistol from my lap and hands it to his father. He starts a question, then his eyes go to the back seat. “How are—what the fuck?”
“Please, Junior, I need—”
“Is that Massimo Colonia?” He opens the door before I answer.
“It’s my brother.”
The car has one door for front and back. Junior pushes my seat forward, folding me at the waist, and crawls behind. The seat can’t fold all the way with me in the front. I grab the gun on the passenger side so no one else does before I get out.
“He’s shot.” Junior looks over his shoulder with an expression that’s part suspicion, part awe, and part are-you-fucking-serious?
“I know.” He’s going to ask who shot Massimo Colonia and under what circumstances.
“Junior.” Tommy still has his gun aimed at me. “Get out of that car.”
“Dad, get me my kit.”
“Don’t get involved. Do you hear?” Tommy gives up on keeping me in his sites and tries to pull Junior out.
“He’s in shock.” Junior pushes his father off. “Help me get him out!”
Tommy spins to me. “You brought this here?”
“I didn’t know where else to go.”
“Where’s Lucari?”
“Dad! It’s Massimo Colonia. We turn him away and they’ll come for us.”
“Fuck!” Tommy expels the curse as if it’s been stuck in his throat all day.
Tommy stretches butcher paper over the bread table before letting Junior lay Massimo on it.
“What happened?” Junior asks as he checks my brother’s vitals. “Dad. Linens. Now.”
“I d-d-don’t know. I-I-I…” I never had a stutter, and yet here I am, stammering like a kid called on by the teacher for a question she doesn’t know the answer to. Dario wouldn’t sound like this. Willa wouldn’t either. “I saw the Colonia take—”
“Stop talking,” Tommy interrupts, putting a handful of red and white gingham napkins on Massimo’s thigh. “We don’t wanna know nothing. Just patch him up and get him out of here.”
“Pressure,” Junior instructs, taking Massimo’s pulse. He looks at me, then his dad, then back at me. “Dad! Pressure!”
“We got a full house out front.”
Junior grabs my hand and puts it on the ball of gingham, pressing down. Tommy starts for the front, but I reach into my pocket with my free hand and wrestle out the gun.
“Stop!”
Tommy puts up his hands and jabs a thumb toward the front of the store “I’m closing.” He stiffens, and I realize I’ve tightened my grip on the trigger. “I’m not gonna do nothing. Just the clear the place out.”
Deep breath. I move the barrel to the side.
“No phone calls, okay? Don’t doubt for a minute I’ll shoot you too.”
Junior and Tommy exchange a fast glance. I think they’re just realizing I’m the one who put a bullet in my brother’s leg.
“Lady,” Tommy says, “I already wish you’d shoot me.”
“Okay.” I relax.
He backs away and only turns when he’s halfway down the hall. My brother hasn’t made a sound since we got back here, and I notice his face is pale and slicked with moisture.
The sound of my brother’s pants being ripped frightens me, and I put the gun up again.
“Easy there.” Junior tips the napkins slightly to open the rip and inspect the wound. “You don’t gotta be scared. My dad’s not gonna call anyone. Trust me.”
“That’s why I’m here. I trust you.”
“Behind you’s a shelf. It’s got bags of flour. You’re either going to get one off or you’re going to stand here and put pressure on this hole in his leg.”
Both require me to put down the gun. I hesitate.
“Pick one, lady. If he dies, I ain’t digging the hole to put him in.”
I pocket the gun and apply pressure to the wound. The cloths are already soaked in blood.
Junior hoists a twenty-pound bag of flour over his shoulder.
Not pointing a gun at someone has lifted a weight from my heart. I didn’t like how scared it made Tommy and Junior. Everything they did for Massimo was because of the threat I held in my hands. The power was bought too cheaply.
“I’m sorry,” I say as if that helps. “This is important.”
“And you’re scared.” Junior lifts Massimo’s uninjured leg. “Help me out here.”
“Yes.” I free one hand to pick up Massimo’s leg so Junior can fit the bag under the heel.
“People do bad shit when they’re scared.”
“I won’t.” I want him to believe me as much as I trust him, but he doesn’t, and I don’t blame him. “Is he going to be all right?”
“He’s in shock. His blood’s not getting to his organs. We gotta get him to a hospital—”
“No.”
“He’s going to die.”
“Make him not die!” I reach for the gun, but as I suspected, it takes too long. Junior holds my arm still.
“You wasn’t like this when you came the first time.”
A pause. The rattle of the front gates being drawn is the only sound.
“Let go.” I issue the command as a statement—the way Dario would.
He lets go of me and steps away. I could step back. Put more distance between us. If I reach for the gun then, I may have enough time to point it at him and make him save Massimo.
I’m not going to shoot Junior though. He knows it. Not because I’m afraid to. Not because it’s wrong or immoral. But because he’s a better friend than enemy. Dario and I need friends.
I use both hands to apply pressure with the cloth, leaving myself defenseless. Junior is stronger and bigger. One punch and I’d be knocked out. He could wrestle me down and tie me up. He could lock me in the bathroom.