D'Vine Intervention

Chapter 7: Angelo

"The usual." Angelo doesn't react visibly.

"I saw the news," Johnny sits and continues peeling his orange, offering a readied piece to Angelo. "They haven't identified the body."

Angelo nods, then takes the orange slice, pops it into his mouth then deliberately focuses on Johnny. "Hey, was she seeing anyone?"

"Not that I know of. Why?"

"As I was, ya know . . . Well, she tried to say somethin' like 'Fr..' maybe Frank or somethin'."

Johnny shrugs. "I dunno."

Angelo and Johnny turn towards a muffled sound coming from beyond the kitchen door that leads into the living room. Johnny moves in that direction.

"Is everything alright in there?" A woman's voice travels into the kitchen.

Johnny cracks open the door. "Yea ma. It's fine. Angelo's here. Sorry we're gettin' loud."

"You two always are loud when you get to story tellin'" Johnny's mother's voice trails above the faint sound of the voices from the Soap Opera she is watching on the TV.

Johnny laughs. "That's right, ma. Just like the old days." He looks passed her to the TV. "How's your stories? Is that Luke and Laura?"

"Don't you just love Cable TV," she smiles. "I can watch my stories over and over again." She turns up the volume.

Along the bottom of the television screen, is a crawler about the murder on the Arno River. "Isn't that just terrible," she points with her knitting needle towards the TV. "They say there's a missing woman reported now too." She puts down her knitting needles. "And, that if it is that woman, she has a six- or seven-year-old daughter." She continues knitting. "I hope they catch that brute." She shakes her head.

"I'm sure they'll catch whoever did it ma," Johnny closes the door. He looks at Angelo and points towards the door. "Three hours of 'her stories' everyday now. 24/7." He shakes his head. "God Bless her. She deserves to relax after raisin' six of us. And, she knits some mean afghans while she's watchin' her stories. Always productive," Johnny touches his forehead and then his chest and each shoulder quickly making the sign of the cross. "God Bless her heart."

Angelo makes the sign of the cross. "God Bless her. Yes, I have one of her afghans ... a masterpiece. I love mine. It's on my bed." Angelo runs his fingers through his hair. "A brute, she says." Angelo shrugs. "I've been called worse."

"Aw Angelo, you're no brute." Johnny's voice softens. "You did what you had to do cuz Scrovino forced you. He threatened Maria and Toni."

"Yea," fake spits. "That pig."

"All cuz I wouldn't sign a statement about the grapes used," Angelo pushes back from his chair and begins pacing. "The wine. The vineyard." His hands fly, as if to punctuate his words. "I wouldn't agree to go under oath on that Brunello year growth." "I'm a delivery driver. How would I even know about that?" Angelo's hands are in tightened fists. "I couldn't do it." He slams his fist in the air. "I couldn't do it. But Scrovino said that Paulina told him that I knew all about it — That I was gonna testify against him." Fake spits again. Then makes a sign of the cross. "Bless her soul."

Johnny makes the sign of the cross. "Bless her soul."

Angelo nods towards the door where Johnny's mother is. "Did you hear what your ma said about a kid?" His face looks stricken. "Nobody told me she had a kid," Angelo wrings his hands.

"It don't matta." Johnny walks toward Angelo .... "Collateral damage."

Angelo shrugs. "Yea, she shoulda thought about that." He stiffens his shoulders. His hands balled into fists again. "Yea," louder now. "She shoulda thought about that before she went flappin' her lips. Blabber mouthin'"

Johnny nods.

Angelo rakes his hand through his hair. "This kid, am I gonna have to do somethin'?"

"I dunno." Johnny puts his hands up in the air. "I guess you'll find out soon."

"Whadya mean?" Angelo looks at Johnny.

"I mean when you meet with Scrovino later this week."

Angelo cradles his head in his hands. "I didn't know nothin' about that. I'd rather not."

"Angelo, Angelo, you have to." He places his palms on his shoulders and faces him. "Your life. Toni's life. Maria . . . each one of them depends on you." He taps his shoulder. "It's all you, Angelo."

Angelo touches the cross hanging around his neck. He drops his hand.

"I know," Johnny pats Angelo on the back. "It still hurts."

"Always will." Angelo whispers.

On his drive home, Angelo's mind wanders to that tragic night years ago. He can still hear little Maria's scream "Daddy!" Then silence. Interrupted only by the gnashing of cold steel against the pavement.

Angelo wipes a tear from his eye.