Mafia (DNF)

Twenty-four

DREAM

I was lost in thought while we drove to the meeting place. Mostly reminiscing about these familiar roads, but a bit of guilt also formed in my stomach.

I'd lied to George about The Blade; he wasn't just some business rival that I didn't know the name of.

He'd been my friend in high school, always competing with me in every sport, project, test, you name it. The field we were heading to was our football field, where we'd often practiced on our own time and hung out.

After we'd graduated, we'd gone our separate ways, but coincidentally both ended up in the mafia. At first, everything was fine, but I'd climbed the ladder quickly and became a head member after a couple of months.

His mental health had declined rapidly during those times, and I was too busy with my new responsibilities to notice. Eventually, we broke off, and he left to pursue something of his own.

If I had known he was struggling through those years, none of this would have happened. Out of partially pure luck and also anger, he'd been able to form a group to rival mine. His competitive nature had never left him, and it was one of his main goals to tear my empire down.

I think back to those days often, and regret not doing more. There was a huge invisible wall keeping me from ever reaching out to him again, mostly made out of the hatred and violence from our quarrels these last few years.

While leaving the office, I'd had no intention of compromising with him. But now, as I watched these familiar buildings and roads from my teen years pass by, I'm questioning myself.

Something in the back of my mind hoped he would forgive me and end this all, but the last few years in the mafia had hardened him. I could hardly recognize him anymore, and his reckless acts of violence are how I convince myself that there's no getting through to him.

His threat to George had almost been the last straw for me to completely tear down his group. I still had the power to, but the guilt I felt kept me from touching anything. We'll see how things go today.

We arrived at the field, and it was empty. I tsked, annoyed. He was never late.

My men in the other cars spread out, scanning the area. It was a big open field, so they wouldn't be able to hide anything, hopefully. I glanced at my watch again, 7:36pm.

This felt wrong, I realized. He was always strict about times, and would talk my ear off about being late when we were in high school.

I told myself we would wait until 8, to make sure. Maybe I'd remembered the time wrong, although I'm sure I didn't.

The moment the clock struck 8, I turned to my men. "Let's go back. I'm not sure what he's trying to pull, but there's no service here, and I need to contact Nick."

We started driving back, and anxiety started to gnaw at my insides. He wouldn't just forget, he was definitely planning something. The moment I got service, I called Nick, and he picked up instantly.

"DREAM! Where are you?!" He shouted, sounding panicked. I held the phone away from my ear, cringing.

"Driving back, why? Did something happen?" Dread started to wash over me, and I hoped my gut was wrong.

"George is gone."