Coming Under Fire

I step out of my four year old white Saturn Vue into the cool October air. I'm wearing jeans, a navy blue henley topped with a hooded white puffer vest, and black Doc Martens. My newly dyed black hair is whipping around my face in the wind. I take in the hardware store in front of me. The apartment above it is really the focus of my stare. I'm a process server and it's my job to serve the law evading of Lawrence, Massachusetts with court documents. A few months back, Jerry Wright decided he wasn't going to pay rent for the apartment and the landlord didn't take kindly to that decision, hiring my boss and therefore, me, to kick Jerry's ass to the curb.

I take a deep breath and march across the street to the side of the hardware store, where there is a shabby wooden staircase leading up the apartment. I pick my way up the stairs and give the metal fire door a couple hard slams with my fist. Jerry answers a few seconds and gives me a blank look.

"Jerry Wright?" I ask.

"Yeah. Who are you?"

"Your landlord hired me to evict you from your apartment. You have a week. Please sign here." I say, handing him a slip of paper. He doesn't take the paper and continues to look at me blankly.

"Jerry?"

"This really sucks. I lost my job and haven't been able to find another one. If I get kicked out, I'm gonna have to go live with my parents." he says.

"I sympathize. But, I have a job to do, so if you could just sign this, I'll get out of your hair." he blows out a sigh and signs the paper, handing it back to me.

"I'm really sorry. Have you applied at the personal products plant? I heard they're hiring."

"I'll try. Thanks." he shuts the door and I blow out another sigh and make my way down the stairs and across the street to my car. Once I get inside, I throw the heater on high and relax into my seat. That was not a uplifting experience. In fact, most of my job isn't very uplifting, but I justify it by telling myself I'm doing a service for the community. That and I just made a hundred bucks. And on a positive note, I didn't get shot at. Not that I get shot at a lot, but it has happened.

I check the digital clock on my dash and see its too late to turn my proof of service slip into the courthouse, so I drive back to my apartment. I live in a bare-bones, three story brick building, facing the parking lot. It recently got renovated and everything is brand new and beige. Beige carpets, beige walls, beige furniture. I don't mind though. It's a big improvement on the orange and brown that it was before. I live alone, occasionally my on-again, off-again boyfriend, John Kristaldi stays the night. Those occasions have been more frequent lately, because we are very on.

When I pull in the parking lot, I notice John's big black truck in the space next to mine and the lights are on in my second floor apartment. I grab my purse and power walk into the building. I take the stairs up because the elevator has been broken for the past week, since one of the many senior citizens in the building pushed the stop button so she would have time to get out with her walker and it got stuck in between floors. My door is unlocked when I get to it, so I just walk in and call out to John. He saunters in from the living room, pulls me to him and kisses me.

"Wow, that was quite the greeting." I say.

"I'm quite happy to see you." he says. I smile.

"I thought we could carpool to your parents tonight."

"Oh shit, I forgot. Dinner."

"Yeah. It must have been a hell of a day for you to forget tuesday night dinner."

"Average."

"Well lets get out of here or we're gonna be late."

I flip the lights out and follow him out of the apartment down to his truck. Tuesday night dinner is a big deal in my family because its the only time that the whole family gets together. My parents live in two story row house in the middle of the suburbs. They've lived in the same house since they were married almost forty years ago. Over the years, not much has changed. The paint color has changed a few times, the old oak tree has grown to shade the postage stamp sized front yard. In the fall time, my mothers mum plants grow in front of the porch, giving the yard some color and cheer.

John parks on the street across the street from the house and we sit in silence for a moment and watch my oldest brother, Frank herd his wife and three kids into the house. Frank is a plainclothes cop, currently working vice in nearby Boston. He worked in Lawrence for years, but six months ago made the move to Boston and he seems to like it. Well, as much as Frank likes anything work related. He's a good cop, though his ethics have occasionally come in question in order to get the job done. His ethics as a man have never been in question.

We both blow out a collective sigh as my second oldest brother, Dom pulls up in his brand new white Escalade. We can see his girlfriend, Carmen in the passenger seat. John looks over at me.

"I will be very nice to you tonight if you keep that woman away from me."

Carmen and Dominic started dating a few months ago, and she has proven to be a great annoyance to everyone. She's about my height, a few pounds heavier, a lot curvier and a lot more Spanish. She yammers on to Dom, bitching him out in her heavy accent about everything, with no filter whatsoever.

"Be nice." I tell him, as we get out of the truck.

My brother Dom is complicated to say the least. In his high school days, he was wild. He stole cars, started fights, broke into houses and just caused mayhem. As he got older, he became involved in the local mob scene. Now, he's one of the most feared players on the scene, with ties in Boston and New Jersey. I have a very complicated relationship with Dom, because he's often sought me out to protect him and help him out of a jam. We're very close, but sometimes he uses that to his advantage. His relationship with Frank is even more complicated for obvious reasons.

We meet Dom and Carmen in front of their car. Dom gives me a tight hug and kisses the side of my head. Then he and John do some ritualistic, Italian male, bro-hug, thing. John and Dom have been through the ringer together. They're best friends most of the time, other times they are strained. Tonight, they seem strained, despite the show of affection, though I'm not sure why.

"Hi, Carmen." I say, politely. She completely ignores me and gives Dom a whack on the shoulder with the back of her hand.

"Dom, I thought you say we going to my sisters tonight."

"Baby, I said later." John is staring a hole through Dom.

"Tell your girlfriend she's rude. Or do you need a translator, Loco Ono?"

"You're rude, John. You have no right to talk to me like that." Now she gives him a shot to the shoulder. John stares at her evenly, with a slight smirk on his face. He doesn't say anything, until he finally looks down at me.

"Let's go inside. I've had enough of Dom's trash talking to me." He takes my hand and we walk across the street.

"What happened to being nice?" I ask once we're out of earshot.

"She hit me. And she was disrespectful to you. She expects respect from the family, yet she gives none." He holds the door open for me and we step inside the foyer.

All of this is true. John had to earn my families respect and it took a long time for my whole family to accept him into the fold. Carmen just annoys the crap out of everyone.

I drop my purse and vest on the floor in the foyer and yell hello to my dad who is sitting in front of the TV in the living room. He lifts a hand in greeting and goes back to the news. Frank comes out of the kitchen and gives me a hug and shakes John's hand.

"How's life?" I ask. He shrugs.

"Is Carmine coming?" I ask, speaking of our youngest brother.

"The Chosen One. Who knows? You know Carm, he's always off doing his own thing." he says. I nod, and leave him and John in the dining room to talk about football. I step into the kitchen, where my mother and Frank's wife, Sophie are.

"Hey." I say, giving Sophie a kiss on the cheek.

"Hello, good to see you." she says, kissing me. I kiss the top of my three year old niece, Angela's head. My mother gives me a disgusted look.

"What?" I ask.

"What is this outfit you're wearing, Isabelle? You look homeless." I look down at my new jeans and clean shirt and vest.

"This is a new outfit." She gives her head a shake.

"In my day, women didn't wear clothes like that unless they were destitute."

"Well, this is 2013, Ma. Women can wear whatever they want." I glance over at Sophie, who is wearing nice black slacks and a white top. Her red lipstick is striking against her porcelain skin. Under the table, she is wearing black strappy sandals, which are very cute, but if I tried to wear them while working, I'd probably twist my ankle.

"Set the table, please." My mother says, handing me a stack of plates. I take the plates out to the dining room and notice Carmine is still not here. Everyone else is standing in the living room and halfway into the dining room, talking loudly, trying to be heard over the TV. John winks at me when I look over at him, and then goes back to the conversation he's having with Frank.

Once the table is set, I help my mom and Sophie bring the food out. Everyone starts to find their place at the table. John sits down on my left. The chair next to mine is empty. Carmine's chair. I see my mother purse her lips looking at the chair. Dominic and Carmen are sitting across from John and I. Frank's family are spread out on either side of the table. Everyone starts passing food around and my mother is looking even more anxious.

"Has anyone heard from Carmine today?" she asks. Everyone mumbles no.

"We should wait for him. I'm sure he'll be here."

"For Christ's sake. He's a big boy. If he doesn't show up to dinner, I'm sure he had plans." My dad says, digging into his food.

"Something could be wrong."

"Nothings wrong, Ma. You know Carmine. He probably just forgot and made other plans." Frank tells her. He's looking anxious to start his meal as well. We all stop when we hear a car door slam outside. John rests his arm across the back of my chair, and starts lazily stroking my neck with his thumb. I give him a sideways glance and he smiles. The front door bangs open and a moment later, Carmine jogs into the dining room. My mother flies out of her chair to embrace him.

"There you are! Why didn't you call? I was worried sick." She starts fussing over him like he's four, while he hugs her quickly.

"I was working, Ma. I didn't think to call. I'm sorry I held up dinner."

"It's alright. We're all just so glad you're here."

"Yeah, sit down so we can start, would ya?" Frank says. Carmine sits down next to me and gives me a peck on the cheek.

"Hey, punk." I say, rubbing his leg lightly. John reaches over and gives Carm a smack on the head. Carmine flashes him a smile and starts filling his plate.

We eat mostly in silence for most of the meal, until Dom finally speaks up.

"So, Carm, where ya been lately?"

"Oh, you know, around."

"I heard you been pretty busy with the ladies." Carmine keeps his head down and shrugs. Carmen smacks Dom on the shoulder.

"Why you so interested in your brothers sex life? You so nosy, Dom." she says.

"I'm just asking him a question, for God's sake. Don't get your fuckin' panties in a bunch."

"Dominic, language. Your niece and nephews are in the room."

"Sorry, Ma," He looks at Frank's boys, "If I ever hear either of you two say what I just said, I'll beat you both black and blue."

"That goes for me too." Sophie says. Frank has his head down, shoveling food in. He's not known for his clean mouth in front of the boys, but no one says anything.

"How's work, Frankie?" Carmine asks.

"Eh, same old, same old."

"I heard the shit hit the fan down by the pier the other night," he looks at my mom, "Sorry, Ma."

"Yeah, it was no big deal." Frank says, non committal.

"Didn't you have to jump out of a window down onto a car to get out of there?" Frank looks up at him.

"Where are you hearing this shit?" He doesn't apologize for his curse.

"Around."

"Yeah well, I'm not discussing it anymore."

"Fine."

"Boys, don't argue." our mom says. I take a long drink of my wine. John kicks me under the table.

We manage to get out with our lives and a huge bag of leftovers. John walks me up to my apartment and waits while I unlock the door. We step inside and he puts the bag of leftovers in the fridge while I turn the lights on. I hang my vest up on one of the hooks by the door and untie my boots and kick them off. John does the same and we sit down on the couch with a beer and a slice of cheesecake and we watch the last period of the Bruins game.

When the game is over, John flips the TV off and starts kissing my neck. I tilt my head back, giving his easier access.

"So, I take it you're staying over." I say.

"Yeah, I promised you that I was going to be very nice."

"It's always very nice."

"Yeah, but it's going to be even nicer tonight." His hand is sliding up my shirt, making its way to my bra.

"Maybe we should move to the bedroom, then."

"That's a very good idea, Cupcake."