Shit. I may be fresh, but I’m not totally naive. This is a shakedown.
As the two goons have a grand old time knocking expensive soaps and displays off the shelves, making me wince, the first guy introduces himself to me.
“I’m Lorenzo. Nice to make your acquaintance, Miss De Laurentis.” As soon as he says my last name, I feel my knees buckle. This is bad. This is very bad.
“Now, I like a nice, fragrant bath from time to time, but let’s be real here. I’m a lot less interested in the shit you sell here than I am in your profits. And your rent for this lovely space. I know exactly who the hell you are, and I know you’re not stupid,” he says, lowering his voice to a growl. He comes around to stand behind the counter, effectively boxing me in. My stomach churns and I feel sick.
“Now, look here, I’m a generous man, and I would hate for our little partnership to start out on the wrong foot, so I’m gonna grant you a little more time. I’m not even gonna penalize you for your late payment, see? I’ve got a heart, you know,” Lorenzo says, grinning. The two goons laugh.
“Please don’t hurt me,” I manage to murmur, the small of my back pressed hard against the countertop while Lorenzo towers over me.
“Oh, I would never. Unless you make me. But I see no reason why we can’t have a feel-good agreement. I think you’d rather keep this civil, right?” he answers, narrowing his eyes at me.
My breath is lodged in my throat, my words totally fallen silent. I give him a vigorous nod.
“Atta girl,” Lorenzo sneers, patting me on the shoulder. I flinch slightly and he chuckles again before turning and gesturing for the two other guys to follow him out of the store. As he steps out the door, he glances back over his shoulder and says, “Nice doin’ business with you, sweetheart. We’ll be seein’ each other again real soon.”
As soon as the door closes and the men disappear from sight, I collapse to the floor behind the counter, pulling my knees in close to my chest. My heartbeat slowly starts to calm again, and I close my eyes, forcing myself to take deep breaths. I should have known this day would come. They just couldn’t leave me well enough alone, could they?
I know better than to try and fight them. It’s pointless. I’m just one girl against a whole bunch of guys. This isn’t my first rodeo. I know how quickly shit goes south when gangbangers are involved.
Still, I find myself asking the question: if Bathing Beauty is barely breaking even right now, then how the hell am I gonna be able to pay protection fees to the mafia? And what’s the cost when I can’t pay up?
BRUNO
T he orange afternoon sun is on my back when I bring my car to a stop about a block away from the well-to-do little store on the corner of the street. When I turn my ignition off, I lean back and just stare at it, letting out a deep breath.
How long has it been?
The light playing off the glass window panes make it impossible to see inside the shop, but the sign outside is clear as ever: Bathing Beauty. I feel a smile on my face. As many mixed memories as it stirs up in me, there’s something comforting about knowing it’s still there, unchanged as ever. Maybe even a little nicer.
All thanks to her.
I catch a glimpse of myself in the car mirror. I’ve changed so much over the years. It feels like a lifetime ago that I was just a teenager, freshly landed in America. I kept my hair cut short back then, and my face was clean-shaven. I run a hand through the long locks that hang nearly to my shoulders now. It’s grown out thick and wavy. Even I have to admit it’s unkempt, and the short, coarse black beard on my face matches.
My voice sounds different, too. I think back to the thick accent I had in those years that I was still learning English, fresh from the old country. I’m so used to it now that English almost sounds as natural as my native Italian on my tongue. I might as well be a different person.
Better that way, I think. When I look into that mirror, I’m not sure I even see myself anymore. What I do see is the face of a man who’s done terrible things. A “made man,” they call us in this country. Mafioso.
What are you really doing here, Bruno?
My mind flashes back to her face, that gorgeous face that’s kept me going all this time. A bright candle in the darkness.
That face doesn’t need to know fear ever again. It doesn’t need to know me.
So why am I here, coming to risk dragging the past back? I don’t dare turn the ignition and drive off. I’ve made my decision, and I’m a man of my word.
After all, I remind myself, I’m not here just to see her, to remind myself that she’s alive and living happily, that what I did for her was all worth it. I’m here to make sure she’s safe.
The Cleaners.
Their name makes my lip curl. They are a gang that sprung up almost overnight, and they’ve gone from being a nuisance to a threat in just as little time.
A few years ago, they were nobodies in East Harlem. But times changed, East Harlem started to get cleaned up, and that meant the gangs had to move around. Soon, the Bronx found itself with new faces hitting warehouses on the south side. And goddamn, they’re vicious.
The Cleaners fight like men who have nothing to lose. I learned that the first week they hit our streets, and hit it hard.
I hit back, harder.
Those days left me with scars and them with worse ones, but the Cleaners have dug their heels in. They’ve been shaking down business left and right, and one of my boss’s associates gave us a tip that some of them might be skulking around here, Morris Park.
This is a nicer part of the Bronx. Places like Bathing Beauty can do pretty well for themselves, if they play their cards right. It would be a gamble to go after businesses this deep into our territory.
But if experience has taught me anything, it’s that the Cleaners are gambling men.
I pop on a pair of aviators in case there could be any chance of her still recognizing me—well, that, and a good pair of aviators can do a man some favors—and I step out of the car and cross the street. It’s a walk I’ve thought about taking a long time, but I never wanted to make her see this face again.
I’ve never wanted Serena to go through that pain again.
But I won’t stand by and let a rival gang get to her, either. My associates know that this store in particular is off-limits.
If Serena knew the reason why, it would kill her. All the more reason I must stay a stranger to her.
And the fact that we can’t touch Bathing Beauty makes it a prime target for the Cleaners. That’s something I can’t tolerate.
I reach the simple door and push it open.
There’s a rush of fragrant air from inside as a little bell jingles. I nearly have to stoop to step inside. If I felt out of place just being in the nicer side of town, I feel really out of place in this quaint little shop. But even so, the place so clearly has her personal touch to it that I can’t keep the faintest smile off my bearded face.