La Famiglia

By Deborah Bainbridge

Ethel limped through the park and sat at her usual table, the chess pieces already arranged on the gray and black terrazzo squares. She handed a footlong drenched in mustard to her informant, with a crisp one hundred tucked against the tinfoil, and moved pawn to e4.

“Grazie, la Piccolina,” Sam said, accepting the warm bundle. “Say, why you limpin’ around when you’ve got that boot il Coltello had made to correct your limp?”

“Left it in the Rolls. When people pity you, they tend to tell you things. That’s what I like.” Ethel’s cool smile twisted into a grimace as she bit into her footlong. “Something’s off with these dogs lately. Joe and I are gonna have a little chat this afternoon.”

“No one wants trouble with a Grieves. Your family’s run this territory forever.” Sam raised his hands.

“They might risk it now with the way my stupid brother’s running our territory. He’s a chess aficionado but can’t even hide his phone at the dinner table properly. Mamma would’ve popped him in the head. Speaking of”—Ethel lowered her half-inch thick glasses—“find anything on those two names?”

“Your green eyes flicker gray when it’s down to business.” Sam wiped mustard from his mouth onto his sleeve. “Crystal’s elusive. But Mia’s a real babyface.”

Ethel’s phone buzzed. It was Mamma, reminding her about tonight’s family dinner at Vino’s. She smiled and positioned her queen. “Checkmate.” She stood, pressing imaginary wrinkles from her black slacks and pinstriped vest. With a flip of her braid, she exited the park.

***

“Little birdies tell me secrets.” Ethel tilted her head. “Start chirping.”

The hotdog vendor wiped beads of sweat from his forehead.

“You seem a little nervous, Joe. You’re in my sector”—she placed her arm around his shoulder—“and I protect my own.”

Joe looked hesitantly from side to side. “You know that deal you brokered for me a few years back, with the butcher and baker in your sisters’ sectors?”

Ethel nodded. “Avoids taxes. We all profit.”

“Right. The thing is. . . the buns and meat ain’t fresh no more. The baker’s giving me stale bread, and the meat I got from that butcher was rotten. They’re eatin’ into my profits, and I gotta pay for protection.” Joe placed a small wad of cash into Ethel’s hand.

“And you have it.” She patted Joe’s cheek.

Back in the Rolls, Ethel made a quick call to Vino’s, then dialed her brother. “I got a report.”

“Not now, Ethel,” Lorenzo snapped and hung up.

Was that a woman giggling in the background?

***

Ethel entered the butcher shop in Rosetta’s sector through the back door. Blood spattered the walls, and she resisted the urge to vomit. Like a horror film. Dodging meat hooks, she tapped a button on her watch, releasing a side-opening blade from the heel of her boot.

The butcher froze, meat cleaver midair.

“Old dogs at Joe’s ain’t my favorite. Something’s rotten here, and it’s not just the meat.” Tapping her watch again, a shank thrusted from the toe.

The butcher slowly set the cleaver onto the chopping block. “Everyone knows you’re the one to fear, but Rosetta’s squeezin’ pretty hard.” His eyes darted to a gym poster on the wall of a blonde in pink boxing gloves.

Ah-hah. Ethel spun on her heel. “Fresh footlongs at Joe’s.”

“Whatever you say, Ethel.”

***

The bakery in Maria’s sector was packed, so Ethel snuck into the kitchen unnoticed. She snatched a fresh cannoli from the cooling rack, and her mouth exploded with flaky pastry and chocolate cream.

The baker, kneading focaccia, startled at the crunch.

“I enjoy a good cannoli but not stale buns at Joe’s.” Ethel leaned her hip against the stainless-steel counter. “Business is doing well.”

“God is my refuge and my shield.” Tears welled up. “Ethel, I never meant to renege on our bargain. Things have been . . . tight.”

Ethel lowered her glasses. “I believe you. My sister involved?”

The baker pointed at her lips then gestured to her chest with both hands.

“I see. I’ll take care of it.”

***

The last of her siblings to arrive, Ethel hobbled to the reserved table at Vino’s. A gorgeous waitress with rich black hair leaned over Lorenzo, placing her hand on his shoulder and fresh bread on the table. A diamond bracelet slipped down her wrist.

“Thanks for requesting me, Ethel.” Mia giggled, returning to the kitchen.

Lorenzo’s head snapped toward his sister.

Just then, the host shouted, “il Coltello,” and kissed her pop on the cheeks. Ethel pointed to the band, which struck up “That’s Amore,” and her parents shuffled onto the dance floor.

She leaned her hands against the table. “Listen up, you three.”

Her sisters huffed.

“Beauty treatments are expensive, Maria. And Rosetta, your gambling problem is racking up debt with the Gambinos. You two are shakin’ down the good people who pay for our protection, and I’m gonna tell Pop.”

Rosetta shook her head. “Please, Ethel! Lorenzo’s been squeezin’ us out. What are we supposed to do?”

Checkmate. Ethel faced Lorenzo. “So, the leader of our dynasty is more focused on juggling women than caring for our territory. Skimmin’ off the top for expensive jewelry is destroying our family’s reputation. It ends now.”

Lorenzo adjusted his collar. “I say when it ends.”

Ethel grinned. “I hit it off with a boxer named Crystal at a gym today, in Rosetta’s sector. Wicked right cross! She was also wearing a diamond bracelet. She and Mia should have loads to talk about. Shall I invite her to join us?” Ethel raised her phone, then hissed, “Most women don’t like two-timin’ snakes.”

“All right, all right.” Lorenzo lowered Ethel’s phone. “Consider it handled.”

The band struck the final note, and Ethel’s parents took their seats. Ravioli served, Mamma lifted her glass of red wine. The family followed suit, toasting in unison, “La famiglia!”

“Well played, la Piccolina.” Lorenzo chuckled. “Never underestimate the queen.”

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Deborah Bainbridge is a semi-retired Pharmacist who dreams of teleporting internationally and into fantastical realms. Her work has appeared in Havok Publishing and Spark Flash Fiction. She’s a Christian, Realm Awards Finalist, and the wife of a Great Eagle (LOTR) who desires to take people on adventures through story. She enjoys running and eating cookies, preferably not at the same time, and would leave her Christmas lights up all year if the neighbors wouldn’t stare.

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