25 to life. (work in progress, more to come)

Prologue

In a city iced over with revenge and war, there is one who never intended to become a part of her family’s violent past. Her hair hanging burnt auburn over her small petite shoulders. Her body fit and ready for a fight, little does she know someone watches her, silently preparing for all-out war.

Story

Sitting in a dimly lit interrogation room, with its bland walls and its one way mirror is a bore when a guy in an improperly tailored suit is staring at you. He leaned back in his chair, acting like he could sit here all day. His act wouldn't be enough to crack a 90 year old women, not in this town.

"Officer, I already told you I don't know anything about the guy you showed me. He doesn't even look the slightest bit familiar, in any way.” Sliding another picture across the smooth metallic table, "What about him," he asked. It was a picture I knew well; his mug shot didn't do him much justice. You could barely see the muscle in his upper body, or the tattoo that covered his right shoulder.

"Ya," then quietly, “I know him."

Acting surprised the officer said," How do you know him?"

"Well Sir, I went to high school with him," There was more to that story than I care to say. There's a lot of history between Anthony Morretti and I. Morretti and I had at one point in time been engaged. We were stupid; thought we were in love. It was high school we thought we could make things work. I broke it off though when I found out about his life. About what he intended to do for a living, I didn't want to be a part of any of that. The officer’s eyes were locked on me like he knew I wasn't telling him everything. So what if I wasn't. It's not like he has a right to know my past relationships. It was a long time ago anyway I've moved on, and I’m sure he has too.

"When was the last time you talked to him?"

"Morretti, I haven't talked to him in years." It was true he'd called a couple of times recently, but I just ignore him. I don't want to hear what he has to say.

"Officer," I said, flipping my hair out of my eyes, “why am I here?"

"Anthony Morretti is a suspect in a murder investigation, and due to his phone records we thought you might know where he is." I was in shock Morretti a suspect in a murder investigation. Morretti is a lot of things, but I would have never put murderer on that list.

"You thought wrong, officer. May I leave now?"

"Yes, Mrs. Mancello you are free to go. Thank you for your time and cooperation."

"I'm engaged to Joey Mancello, not married yet. I'd appreciate if you didn't call me by his name."

"Of course, Nicole/Parker you have a nice day; an officer will escort you home." Every eye was on me when I stepped out into the bustling police station. This place looked the exact same as it did 20 something years ago. Walking into the police station was like going back in time. I could feel someone come up behind me, he whispered in my ear,

"There is a black SUV out front get in it." He was nothing but a hooded figure no one knew who he was. Tattoos purposely covered, face completely hidden he walked away first. An officer called my name as I followed suit. The SUV sat, a glossy black with tinted windows, slowly I climbed into the back. He sat there as if he were a statue, not a single word was so much as uttered. Not even the usual Italian curse at the crazy strega on the highway. Staring blankly as cars whizzed by on their way home. I should have never agreed to talk to him, but I knew it wasn't a request. Plus whether I liked it or not; I was property of the mob. My father was in, so was my brother. Everybody who was anybody on the Hill was in. That's just how things are.

"Hey, Morretti you got a phone?" He looked at me like I was crazy. I knew he didn't have a phone, but didn't one of his bodyguards have one.

"My parent's, their expecting me for dinner, if I don't show up there gonna put my face on milk cartons.” He simply tapped the guy riding shotgun on the shoulder, and he just magically produced a phone. He flipped it open dialed a number, and set it between us. He didn't trust me, I can't say I blame him for not. The phone went to voice mail.

"Hey, Ma it's your only daughter, Nicole/Parker who you never answer the phone for. I just wanted to let you know that I’m not gonna be able to make it to dinner tonight. I’m feeling a little under the weather." Hanging up the phone he looked satisfied to see that I wasn't lying. He had taken the hood off. He looked terrible; he had bags under his eyes, and there was an ugly looking bruise on his cheek. He was colored with exhaustion.

"Anthony, when was the last time you slept?" He immediately looked at me it was the first time I’d used his name. He just shrugged his shoulders and made like he was trying to sleep. I tried to do the same. For some inconceivable reason I felt safe around him, a security that no one else has ever given me. I could feel the bumpy road, which still needed to be fixed, on the way to the Morretti house. The car came to a screeching stop. The driver must have slammed on the brakes. It was like being pole vaulted awake. The other guys in the car were distraught asking what they should do. There were guys coming up to the car slowly. The two guys in the back of the SUV got out meeting them in front of the car. They talked, but you couldn't hear what they were saying. Then shotguns phone rang.

“Their saying they just want to talk, have a conversation with you, Boss.” Anthony’s face was flushed with concern; he kept looking at me to see if I was okay. Slowly he found his words,

“I don’t think they want to talk, if they wanted to talk they wouldn't be standing the way they are, Joe. They want a fight.” At least I knew another person’s name. The guy riding shotguns name was Joe. Looking at the fear in his huge brown eyes, I decided it was time for something to be done; it wasn't going to be pretty. I was still, in fact, in my dress and heels from my dinner with Joey last night.

“Anthony, don’t move.” I opened the door and dropped my perfectly toned body out of the SUV. I slammed the door shut before he could get one word out of his mouth. Any woman that can rock heels on the ground I’m walking deserves an award, stupid gravel. I came up behind the two guys that were talking to our lovely road blocks. Placing a hand on the shoulder of the tall, lean man.

“Excuse me, but is there something I can help you with?” Everyone was utterly confused. They had been so confident that they found Anthony.

“You see your friend Anthony Morretti isn't in the car. It’s just me and my friends here.” The short little red headed guy in front looked from me to the two guys I was standing between. He didn't seem convinced.

“Call the boss,” he said with a thick accent. Oh, great their Irish. Irish mob to be exact, not the nicest guys you’ll ever meet.

“Um, I don’t think that’s necessary. I mean you wouldn't want word to get back to Mr. Morretti that you kept his dinner guest from getting to dinner on time do you?” I was gonna have to hike up my hemline and drop my neckline if this guy was gonna get out of my way. Or maybe I could just flirt with him. I mean what Italian girl in a hot red dress and stilettos can’t get a guy to do anything for her. I was doing everything in my power to get them into their cars. What does a girl have to do now a day? I should be able have him wrapped around my finger with one hair flip, especially in this dress. I've got to keep everything in perfect balance, the flirtatiousness in my voice, everything.

“You’re gonna have to leave first. You’re kind of blocking my way.” To my surprise, without raised hemlines they all went and piled into their cars. All accept short and freckle faced. Why did this not surprise me? One quick move and I was doubled over in pain. He was so lucky I didn't have the air in my lungs to tell him off. He hurried off to the car and sped off. I could tell the two fine young men that played a huge roll in my charade didn't know what to do. I could feel the tears on my cheeks, and I silently cursed myself for letting them out. And then he was there in front of me. Worry present in his every movement. Tenderly he helped me sit in the grass on the roadside, to catch my breath. He silently slid my heels off, and rubbed my feet for a few minutes, before pulling me into his lap where I cried myself to a place of sleep and safety in his arms. Softly he told the driver to get the car. When he came back with the car, Anthony slowly lifted me up into the SUV, then went over to the other side and climbed in. He pulled me over to him where my head was in his lap, and he could run his fingers through my straight auburn hair. I felt so safe with him, and with that I finally drifted off towards sleep.

“Anthony, is she okay?” It was the tall, lean man that had played along so well, that asked first.

“She’ll be fine Eddie. She’s had a rough day, and this just blew the emotional lid off the container.” Then a small voice broke through, the drivers,

“Do you think she knows about Mancello? It didn't look like she knew any of those guys, Boss.”

“I get the feeling she doesn't Lou, but I’m gonna tell her first thing in the morning. Right now she just needs to sleep.” The car rolled to a stop in front of the house. The house stood a modest size, with its red bricks, the ivy plants climbing up the side of the house. Anthony carried me into the house due to my shoe less state.1521 Piatza Street looked and smelt the same as it did many years before. I dragged my tired butt up the same familiar stairs, to the same familiar room where I had spent many nights in the past. Opening the beautifully carved closet doors, I threw on a t-shirt and sweat pants of Anthony’s, and climbed into the warm comfort of the bed. I heard him come in, slowly, silently. He took a few pillows from the other side of the bed, and made a make shift one on the floor. Slowly I felt my body drift off to sleep. Anthony on the other hand, was a different story. I’m not sure he even got anywhere near sleep. I can’t say I blame him, yes he needed to sleep. But really you can’t expect a murder suspect to actually sleep. Morning came quickly; I could feel the autumn sun peer through the windows. I slowly opened my eyes as it filtered in. It was going to be a beautiful day, one of many during this St. Louis autumn. I tip toed past Anthony who appeared to be sleeping like a rock. I went down to the kitchen to make some coffee. I could hear him get up, so my efforts to not wake him were pointless. I heard the floor creak as he headed towards the study. I poured two cups of coffee, and set out. I passed pictures and pictures of the Morretti family. I stopped in front of the hand crafted doors; one of the Morretti’s was a carpenter. Anthony was staring out the bay window. The view was beautiful, with all of the books in the room surrounding this one window. The study was more of a library. It was this one little itty bitty desk enclosed in shelves upon shelves of books. He hadn't even realized I walked in.

“You know no matter how long you stare out that window it’s not going to talk to you.” He looked at me with tired blue eyes. They were mesmerizing; I had never been able to get past his eyes. They captured my heart. Then looking at the cups in my hands,

“Is that coffee?” His eyes lit up at the smell of it. I could tell he needed it. He motioned for me to sit with him in the window seat, and I did. I don’t know why, I guess I just didn't think he was a killer. The wheels in his head were turning trying to figure out how to say something.

“Would you just put on your big boy pants, and say what you need to say.” He laughed, and so did I. The air between us was easy, light while we laughed. Then all of a sudden he turned serious; his face closed, he wasn't laughing anymore.

“Nicole/Parker, you’re not going to like what I tell you.” I must have given him that Amorosa face, because he scrambled to keep going.

“Nicole,” he hesitated then carefully went on, “Joey Mancello is second in command for the Irish mob.” I could feel my heart drop. He had to be lying, he was lying to me.

“I don’t believe you, your just jealous of Joey and I. You just can’t accept that I've moved on.” I stormed my way out of the study. How could he make up such a lie, but his eyes? His eyes told me he wasn't lying. Grabbing a pair of keys, I was halfway home in his most prized possession, Anthony’s 1967 Shelby mustang GT500. A phone rang furiously, I knew it was Morretti. I mean I was driving his car, yet I hadn't expected him to do anything about it. I didn't answer, for obvious reasons. I wasn't in the mood to get yelled at. Finally, I was home. I parked the mustang in the driveway of my little yellow house. Walking up to the porch, I realized I didn't have my purse, or my keys. The police had asked to talk to me before I could grab them from Joey’s car. I could feel Mrs. Lazar’s beady eyes staring at me, absentmindedly I waved. I grabbed the spare from the plant next to my door and put it back. I mean it wasn't a secret that my spare was in the plant. I walked through my cream colored house; I really needed to paint. To my room where I went and started the shower. When I stepped into the shower it was like this past day and a half washed away. It was like it didn't even happen, until I heard the open and slam of the furry that was my door. I’m not quite sure that it survived the hatefulness. I could hear him as he came into my bedroom. My only surprise, when the shower curtain was ripped open, it was Joey. He threw me a towel, knowing full well what he was about to start.

“Where the hell have you been? I've been so worried, how am I supposed to keep you safe if I don’t know where you are?”

“I don’t know, Joey! But what I do know is that I don’t need protection. I can take care of myself!” He wanted a fight, and you know what I was in the mood to give him one. He ran his fingers through his blonde hair.

“You don’t know, you don’t know! See that’s your problem, Nicole/Parker. You don’t think. You do whatever you want, and you don’t think about what your choices do to the people that love you.”

“You know, Joey you yelling doesn't show any love!” I wanted him out of my house. I didn't’ want to talk to him anymore. Joey was being a pain in the butt, and I wasn't in the mood to deal with his temper.

“Get out, Joey. You need to leave. Go take a walk, and get a grip.” He opened and closed his mouth, before stalking out, slamming the door behind him. He was being such a baby; he of all people should know I can take care of myself. After all he’d seen me fighting, practicing in the basement. This was where I was headed, after my failed attempt at a shower. The best way to blow off steam beat the crap out of an inanimate object. I was always in the basement, I was always angry. I loved my family, but I hated what our name meant. My dad and brother Mikey were muscle for the Italian mob. If you wanted someone scared you went to Mikey. If you wanted someone terrified and bleeding you went to my dad. If you wanted someone to pee a little at the sight of you, well that was me. Except I don’t work for the mob. I refuse everything the mob stands for; I hate what all mobs stand for. And that led me to the punching bag. I set off working on my punches and footwork. I stopped; slowly he walked out of the shadows. Again I should have known he would come for his car.

“What do you want, Anthony?” I was tired of talking. I just wanted to beat the crap out of my punching bag.