Status: completed.
The Betrayal
The Second
If it was anyone but me, I don’t think it would have happened; for this I blame myself forever. Except you can’t take back the past so I’m stuck waking the whole building up every night with the sobs in my sleep until the day I die or the day I kill myself – I fear the latter may come before the former.
He had chosen well. No one would have gone down such a gruesome, unsanitary street voluntarily; little to no chance of him being found out there. Papa knew his back routes and alleyways better than anyone I’d ever met before, except maybe his wife, though her wants were deadly in a much different way.
On that particular day Papa was meeting a thug named Vinny. Contrary to the image of a cherubic, rosy-cheeked bright-eyed boy that the name conjured, Vinny was a dark, hulking giant of a man, all muscle and permanent five o’clock shadow. His snappy business suit with the black tie contrasted harshly against the rotting garbage paired with the moldy building walls, and I felt dangerously childish in my Keds and long, auburn braid. The greedy, intelligent thirst his eyes portray is ingrained in my memory forever; I want so badly to lose the memories and all that comes with them. Vinny was Papa’s trusted business partner in the Devil’s Palm and he was absolutely determined to make sure that it would stay that way until better arrangements could finally be achieved.
“Five today, sir. Three preferably within the month, one with a deadline of two weeks, the other requested within the week. One accidental, three natural, and one framing, that’s one of the ones within the month.”
Papa swore.
“Don’t these idiots know that it takes time to dance with death? My craft is an art, a science, a precise institution that cannot be rushed. If this is what they’ve chosen, they can wait for me to do it right.”
“Yes, boss.” Vinny knew that it would all be done beautifully and the money would be in their pockets soon, crispy pieces of green that would be immortalized in their demonic hands.
Papa was quite unlike Vinny, the only thing they shared a liking for a sharp wardrobe and expensive cigars. A tall, broad shouldered man, Johnny’s father was a chocolate brunette, color flowing from his roots and sitting neatly atop his crown. His icy blue eyes seemed to bring winter upon the city rather than the rotating earth; for a man who dealt primarily in the city area, he valued his family life in the secluded, suburban area much more. One would not pin him for a family man, but when it came down to it, he almost always chose them.
He had chosen well. No one would have gone down such a gruesome, unsanitary street voluntarily; little to no chance of him being found out there. Papa knew his back routes and alleyways better than anyone I’d ever met before, except maybe his wife, though her wants were deadly in a much different way.
On that particular day Papa was meeting a thug named Vinny. Contrary to the image of a cherubic, rosy-cheeked bright-eyed boy that the name conjured, Vinny was a dark, hulking giant of a man, all muscle and permanent five o’clock shadow. His snappy business suit with the black tie contrasted harshly against the rotting garbage paired with the moldy building walls, and I felt dangerously childish in my Keds and long, auburn braid. The greedy, intelligent thirst his eyes portray is ingrained in my memory forever; I want so badly to lose the memories and all that comes with them. Vinny was Papa’s trusted business partner in the Devil’s Palm and he was absolutely determined to make sure that it would stay that way until better arrangements could finally be achieved.
“Five today, sir. Three preferably within the month, one with a deadline of two weeks, the other requested within the week. One accidental, three natural, and one framing, that’s one of the ones within the month.”
Papa swore.
“Don’t these idiots know that it takes time to dance with death? My craft is an art, a science, a precise institution that cannot be rushed. If this is what they’ve chosen, they can wait for me to do it right.”
“Yes, boss.” Vinny knew that it would all be done beautifully and the money would be in their pockets soon, crispy pieces of green that would be immortalized in their demonic hands.
Papa was quite unlike Vinny, the only thing they shared a liking for a sharp wardrobe and expensive cigars. A tall, broad shouldered man, Johnny’s father was a chocolate brunette, color flowing from his roots and sitting neatly atop his crown. His icy blue eyes seemed to bring winter upon the city rather than the rotating earth; for a man who dealt primarily in the city area, he valued his family life in the secluded, suburban area much more. One would not pin him for a family man, but when it came down to it, he almost always chose them.