I’ve never known true fear until today. Salvatore’s words gobble up my every thought, working my imagination overtime. I’ve heard of Royal’s work. He’s messy. He never cleans up. How he has gotten away with this for as many years as he has is beyond me. Ivan obviously has cops in his pocket just like this family does.
But this is a completely different story. He has my wife and my best friend. I need to get the fuck out of here. Lola is a mess, Cecily is a mess, and John was due back here hours ago and no one has heard a damn thing from him.
The front door flies open. A disheveled looking John walks in holding a box, violently kicking the door shut behind him.
“Jesus, man. Are you all right?”
He’s white. His hair is a mess. I know he’s in pain. He refused any pain medication from the doctor. Told everyone his mind needs to be clear.
“Where’s Salvatore?” he says sharply as he walks past me towards Salvatore’s office. “And Cecily and Lola?”
“I’m not sure where they are. In their rooms, maybe? I’ve been in the family room going out of my mind.”
“Let’s just hope they stay where they are. They don’t need to see or hear this.”
His voice sounds rougher than normal. Something is wrong, I can feel it. Whatever happened is troubling him in a bad way. A way that he wants to keep from the ladies. I don’t like this feeling at all.
Breaking his fast paced stride, he crouches down, placing the box on the floor and his hands on his knees. I’m by his side in an instant.
“John. What the fuck is wrong?”
A dark shadow crosses over his face.
“Fuck me!” he roars, crumpling to the floor.
Salvatore pushes through his office door.
“What the hell?”
“Hell if I know. He came barreling in here with that in his hand. Asked about Lola and Cecily and then collapsed on the floor.”
Salvatore reaches for the box.
“Don’t open that!”
John gets off of the floor, his entire body shaking, and snatches it up. He’s got to be in pain, not only from the accident, but for Calla and Manny. I’ve never in all my years of knowing him seen him so agitated.
“In your office,” John demands.
The three of us walk in. Salvatore shuts the door and locks it.
“I need a drink.”
John moves to the cabinet, grabs a bottle of Johnny, twists the cap off, and guzzles it like water. Without putting the cap back on, he sets it back on the top of the cabinet, turning to the both of us and exhaling loudly.
“Goddamn it! You better tell me what the hell is going on and now!” Salvatore shouts.
“Shit. This was delivered at the gate about five minutes before I got here. I told them I would bring it up. It’s… fuck!”
He runs a hand through his already messed up hair.
“It’s what?” Salvatore moves to him, takes the box out of his hands, and lifts the lid.
“Jesus Christ!”
“What is it?”
I move to the two of them. My stomach rolls when I see the bloodied finger lying in the box alongside of a flash drive. Salvatore stands there, unable to move. The finger has got to be Manny’s. Good God, he was right. They are torturing him.
“How? How could my own son do this? How could I have failed as a father?”
Once again, I’m helpless as I watch a man who is like a father to me beat himself down with despair, mourning the loss of one son while grieving for the other. When his hands start to shake, I take the box from him, my stomach churning.
Closing the lid on the box, I quietly back up to leave the room. John has his hand on Salvatore’s shoulder, his eyes on me nodding towards the door for me to go. I make my way up the stairs and down the hall to my empty room; the room I was going to share with my wife. The room where I was going to give her the ring that is now sitting on top of the white dresser. Cecily cleaned it up and gave it to me this afternoon. She went on and on about how stunning it was going to look on her daughter’s finger, and how it was going to mean so much to Calla to have it. And now I can hardly bear to even look at it.