Capítulo 3: Chapter 3: Old Wounds and New Alliances
Mary stepped out of the shower, languidly stretching like a cat without a care in the world. She picked up her towel in one hand and wiped away the fog on the mirror with the other. Her curls were loose and draped over her face like a dark halo. She admired the way her sepia skin flawlessly glowed without a blemish, save the one that haunted her the most.
Mary gingerly slid her fingertips over the bullet wound, which was now barely noticeable by others' standards. To Mary, it was still clear as day and bleak reminder of a moment of weakness. Her only hangup with the path she walked. The only thing that could throw her off balance and peel away that calm, cold-blooded, and calculating surface.
“Six years,” she grumbled to herself, “and I still haven't found you. You think you've done something, don't you? Laid the mighty Bloody Mary low and hide like a roach when the lights come on.”
The mafiosa took a few minutes to gather herself before drying herself off and dressing herself comfortably. A pair of black yoga pants and a matching tank top that she made sure covered her mark of shame. Mary pulled her hair back into a messy bun, took a few more deep breaths and exited her bathroom with a heavy sigh.
One day, Vincento. She reminded herself. One day, I'm gonna pay you back every single kindness you paid me.
Rocco sat across from Mary, sipping his whiskey quietly. His attention switched from the cabaret girls practicing their routines to his dear friend who was staring intently down at her glass.
“Penny for your thoughts, bambina?”
Mary fidgeted ever so slightly before looking up. She knew better than to try to hide anything from him. With a heavy sigh, she finished the rest of her drink, setting her glass down a little too hard.
“How long has it been, Rocc?” Mary started quietly. “Two? Almost three years?”
Mary's fingertips lightly grazed the the left side of her collarbone through her shirt. For the first time in a long time, Rocco saw her hands shaking.
“All this power and money we have and that son of a bitch still slips through our fingers like smoke!” She seethed. Mary's hands clenched into fists so tightly, she began to break the skin of her palms. “Last time we even had a slight trace of him was six months ago. Now? Nothing!” Mary did everything she could to stop herself from hyperventilating. “I want him to pay for what he's done!” Her anger was barely leashed, causing a few nervous glances from the girls. Mary took a couple breaths and smiled at them. “Sorry, girls. Don't worry, you're doing great!”
After a few sheepish “thank yous” from the girls, Mary signaled the bartender for another drink.
“I know, bambina. I've got a plan, though.” Rocco reassured her. “And this time, we're not only gonna find him, we're gonna end him.”
“You promise?” Mary asked after a couple sips.
“I promise.” He gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “In fact, I already I got us some help.”
“That was fast.” Mary snickered. “Who'd you find?”
“The Flannigans.” Rocco smirked.
Mary almost choked on her drink as she looked at Rocco, eyes as wide as plates. “The Flannigans?” She echoed. “How? They hate everyone.”
“Apparently, not everyone and especially not you.” Rocco lifted a hand as Mary opened her mouth to retort. “Don't worry about a thing, bambina. I got it all worked out and I'll be talking to Old Man Flannigan in the morning.”
Mary plopped back into her chair, gently swirling her drink in her glass and looking back to the stage. Slowly, an almost relieved smile spread across her face.
“Well, damn.” She chuckled. “This might actually work.”
“That's the spirit, kid!” Rocco smiled broadly.
“Well, don't let me stop you from working your magic.”
The pair raised their glasses in a toast and enjoyed the rest of the cabaret rehearsal in relative silence.
Mary stared at her reflection in the brightly lit vanity of her bathroom, holding her silken robe closed with one hand and moisturizing her face with the other. A shoulder of her robe slipped down ever so slightly, but it was just enough for Mary to see the old wound again. Her hands shook ever so slightly as she slid the robe down just a tad more, bringing the into full view.
Every time! She raged at herself. Every damn time you have to see it, it destroys you!
Her breath trembled and quickened as she gently ran her fingertips over the blemish, hearing that gunshot all over again and remembering Vincento's words as she lay there bleeding.
“No offense, kid,” she whispered to herself as tears threatened to appear, “You just got the bad end of the deal.”
Mary found herself hyperventilating as the scene played in her head over and over. No matter how she tried to stop it, it wouldn't leave her alone. Suddenly, the sound of her phone made her jump, but it brought her out of her thoughts. She looked down at the screen, thankful that it was Rocco.
“Hello?” She answered.
“Bambina, what's wrong?”
“Nothing,” Mary answered quietly, “just a little inside my head tonight.”
“It's worse than that.” Rocco countered. “You know I know you too well.
Mary let out a heavy sigh, knowing full well that she couldn't put anything past her friend. “I just can't shake that night, Rocc.” Mary shook her head, looking at her tear stained reflection with disgust. “No matter how much I try, I just keep reliving it. I can't fucking get away from it.”
“Once we finish this, you will.” Rocco assured her. “I wish we didn't need Flannigan to do so, but your old flame's gotten a bit more power since then.”
“Don't fucking remind me.” She groaned. “I know the only reason why he's left us alone is because he thinks I'm scared of him. And the bastard might be right.”
“What do we always say about being scared?”
Mary let out a chuckle. “Nothing wrong with fear as long as you don't let it stop you.”
“And has it stopped the infamous Bloody Mary?”
“Not yet.”
“Well, there you go!” Rocco exclaimed. “We got this, Bambina. After all this is over, you won't be under his thumb anymore, I promise. Even if that means I have to give the last breath in my body to make sure that happens.”
“Good thing I didn't give you permission to die or I might just believe that.” Mary chuckled.
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