The Looking Girls

By C.F. Villa

A collection of 7 short stories. The Looking Girls is a powerful testament from seven girls who are perhaps a little flawed and damaged and prone to making bad decisions...look at me!

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Nov 14, 2016
• ISBN: 9781483587042

Book preview

CONCERN

THE SLEEPER

Vincente slipped into the white paper painter suit; Natalia wrapped masking tape around his sleeves at the wrist. She squatted, wrapping his ankles.

It’s been three years, Vincente, she said. How much longer am I going to have to wait?

He gave her the silent treatment. Turned her around, then gave her a gentle shove.

Natalia walked across the basement obediently.

Together they laid out the clear plastic tarp covering the cement floor.

Natalia dashed back to Vincente, pressing her face into his chest; drawing circles with the tip of her finger. I don’t want to go to Uncle Leonard, Vincente. Can’t we compromise?

Vincente grabbed her wrist. Marriage is a big commitment. You have no idea.

Gasps of labored breathing made them turn.

We’ll talk later, Vincente said. I promise, I’ll give it some serious thought.

Really? Natalia’s face brightened.

Yes. Now go. Vincente gave her a swat on the butt.

Natalia bounded up from the basement cheering, pumping her fist in the air. She stopped, and turned at the top step. Y’know, Vinnie, I have talents too. You’ll see. She closed the basement door.

Vincente turned to the two detectives. Women…

Their labored breathing grew louder, filling the basement. Short rapid huffs.

It’s nitrous oxide, in case you’re wondering, Vincente said. Just a temporary paralysis.

The detective closest to Vincente could only stare—tied to the chair—his jaw awkwardly ajar. More a consequence of gravity than an attempt to cry out.

You know, in the old days the bosses didn’t like killing cops, Vincente said, putting on a pair of clear plastic goggles. It brought too much heat. I believe that’s what led to greed running rampant. You people took advantage.

Vincente picked up the Louisville Slugger. He held it out in front of him, twisting it, checking the weight. But now, with informants rolling over at the highest level; prison sentences that have no end; and law-breaking prosecutors bent on vengeance, rather than upholding justice—times have changed. Rules recalibrated.

With a whoosh, the heavy wood smacked the sweet spot on the detective’s forehead. A sickening crack split the air.

Vincente took two steps over to Sergeant Bauer, his second captive. The Slugger hung loose at his side.

The sergeant’s eyes were frozen and wet.

Welcome to the future, Vincente said.

Whoosh.

The kitchen door leading to the basement cracked and light spilled down the stairs. Vinnie…lunch.

In a minute, he said. Hey, call Wally Worms at the parlor. Tell him to fire up the furnace. We have some trash to burn.

She gave him a mock salute with a girlish grin. Aye-aye, Captain. Then she shut the basement door.

Loading the cargo into a van, Vincente shook his head, thinking of Natalia. The line was blurred when he actually came face to face with the once pigtailed brunette. But when they were growing up, everyone in the neighborhood knew who she was—Fat Leonard’s niece. For that reason alone, no one would dare look at her.

Now at 25—all grown up—no one could stop.

The crew once joked, Natalia was their moll doll.

But three years ago, the joke ended. Vincente was no longer smiling.

She had shown up at his house—a sole suitcase in hand. Leonard says we belong together. I agree. She had given Vincent a mischievous grin.

Then, standing in the middle of his master bedroom—looking around—she had yelled out, You’re going to have to marry me too.

Vincente had stayed at the door, his hand still on the knob, not sure what had happened.

Vincente pulled up to Fat Leonard’s home: a sprawling seven-bedroom mini-mansion just outside Chicago. The bluegrass was tightly trimmed as usual. He often wondered if hundreds of gardeners crawled around on hands and knees with rulers and scissors shearing off blades at exactly four inches. It was that immaculate.

Inside, the halls were long and quiet. Vincente’s shoes emitted small echoes over the Italian marble floor. The décor was Venetian. Large, dark colors. He smelled the rich odor of waxed leather. A man’s castle, he thought. One day…

He exchanged smiles with Leonard’s wife, a sturdy woman with handsome features. She escorted him to Leonard’s study. Their amble silent. He had a profound respect for Natalia’s aunt. For all Sicilian women. They had an innate sense of loyalty to their men. They never asked for any details; nor did they volunteer any. Even when the Feds knocked down doors and shoved warrants in their faces. Their pride was their homes and their daughters, and Italian men knew enough to never interfere. It was an unwritten rule everybody understood.

But with Natalia, the order was threatened. Things were different. Rules were broken. It was Leonard’s sister who went to him for help.

Whenever Natalia’s name was mentioned at family gatherings, women would lower their gazes, make the sign of the cross, and say a silent prayer.

Leonard would laugh.

Vincente would shift his weight.

Eyes would linger in his direction.

In the study, Leonard nodded to him. You do that thing?

It’s done, Vincente said.

Leonard was Vincente’s crew captain. A huge killer, with quick animal reflexes.

He pulled an envelope from his desk drawer and handed it to Vincente. How’s my niece doing?

Vincente’s face went tight. She drove the van to Wally Worms’ place. She stole the keys while I was eating lunch. She set me up.

Yeah, that’s Natalia, Leonard said. Always eager to please. She’s a handful. But a good kid. You should lighten up on her. Have you given it any more thought…bringing her into the outfit? She called—again.

Marriage, Vincente thought. It had two definitions in the mob: one meant a made member. The other, in the traditional sense. The former could only be secured by a confirmed kill—a hit. In addition, the new recruit had to be sponsored by an actual member, the raising of a hand.

No female has ever become a made member, Vincente said. The other outfits will never allow it.

That’s why me and the boss think she’ll be better as a sleeper, Leonard said.

You mean, keep her recruitment under wraps? Vincente shook his head. Because she’s your niece? I don’t like it, Leonard.

She has her hands in everything, Vinnie. I can’t keep up with her. The least I can do is protect her. Once she’s a made member, nobody’ll be able to touch her without deadly consequences. She’ll have full protection under the outfit name.

Vincente lay in bed staring at the ceiling. Twice he tried to force himself to sleep. Twice he broke out in a sweat from the effort.

Natalia stirred next to him. Her face in her pillow, flat on her stomach.

This was all wrong. Women simply don’t become killers. It disturbs the natural order of things.

Suddenly, a silky arm flung across the bed, landing with a slap on his chest. Small fingers walked up his chest to his face. Felt his nose, eyes squeezed shut, then the arms resting behind his head. Natalia rolled over, tilting her head back, squinting through the small cracks of her eyes. What’s wrong? she said groggily.

I don’t understand, he said. This is all wrong. You have everything any woman could ever want.

Natalia rolled her body on top of his, then slowly did a push-up off his chest. As she stared down at him, her hair shielded his face like a dark curtain. Her elbows locked.

Vincente inhaled the sharp fragrance of strawberries.

Natalia lifted her arms up and pulled her nightgown over her head—tossing it. Look at me, Vinnie. Tell me what you see.

He swallowed hard. Beauty, he said, his voice strained. Pure beauty.

He reached up a hand.

Natalia slapped it down. That’s right, Vinnie. That’s all anybody ever sees. Every girl born starts out with that first strike. After a while it becomes debilitating. That’s all we’re good for—to look at. To have around. You don’t think I know behind my back the crew calls me ‘moll doll’? The first time I heard it I laughed. Alone in my room, I cried.

C’mon, you don’t cry.

"I’m a human being first, Vinnie.