Nikki Magee

By Peter Wendt

When orphan Nikki is brutally ejected from a car her life is in tatters.

She needs the kind of help mob boss Don Johnny Mazzarisi and his family can provide. Nikki is a musical prodigy with a journey she must take and they, along with everyone who enters Nikki's orbit, are along for the ride.

The story includes Lesya Popov, a once world-renowned harpist, Drek Mason whose six-man rock band isn't what his senses tell him it should be, Jimmy Clarke, a Jamaican keyboardist who aids Drek in his search, and Nina who wants to break into the music industry.

From Chopin to Joe Cocker, Nikki's wish is to play and play she does.

She has a dream and, at age 15, she goes to her first rock concert where Fate is going to intervene on a massive scale.

Don't miss what happens next.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Oct 2, 2014
• ISBN: 9781312568365

Book preview

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Prologue

Light begins to break through the clouds. A young girl sits numbly between the woman and the man driving. It's early Tuesday morning in late April.

Time to be rid of her, he says, suddenly altering course, unthinkingly maneuvering a few blocks into a part of the city that's not safe for him. His kind are not appreciated. The gray Chevy sedan screeches to a halt. Now throw her the fuck out, he orders, and do it right.

Are you certain? the woman asks. It will take time to train another.

He raises his backhand to her, communicating all she needs to know. Immediately her long leg, clothed in black fishnet stocking and spiked heel, kicks open the passenger door. She gets out, then turns and reaches back in, roughly laying hold of the girl, brutally yanking her out and throwing her hard into the remains of the last snow storm. Dirty snow and nasty slush. Into the gutter.

She gets back in, slams the door, rolls down the window and chucks out the small pack the girl carries. Then the Chevy is gone, a trail of thick exhaust as its wake.

The Loft

In this part of the city, one need not walk far for anything. Drek Mason has been in town on a short stop and is heading to a nearby coffee shop for his morning caffeine fix. His bag slung over his shoulder, he has to get his coffee, catch a cab, and get to the airport. He has no time to lose.

A beat up gray clunker comes out of nowhere and stops perhaps thirty feet in front of him. He watches in astonishment as a tall blond woman, rather butch-looking in a tight black skirt and tank top, gets out and summarily ejects a little girl from the car followed by a small pack. He hears the woman yell, Little bitch! as the car pulls away, leaving its stink behind. He thinks the woman should be arrested. Didn't expect to start the day this way.

After a moment, the girl begins picking herself up. Drek walks over, grabs up the pack, shaking off the grunge clinging to it, and holds it out for her to take.

Her bruised face is a mess, all dirty with gutter slush cities have after a spring snow; real wet, heavy stuff laced with automobile soot. She's dressed in well-worn and faded khaki cargo pants, blue tee shirt, a stained olive green military style jacket, and dirty sneakers. All of them the dirtier now.

You alright? he asks.

Yes, she says softly, as she takes the pack from his hand. She is dripping wet.

She's about five foot two and might weigh near one-hundred pounds. Her face is tear-drop in shape, with a few freckles, and emerald green eyes. Beautiful brown hair, tinged red, adorns her head. It hangs down to her neck in an unkempt manner. He can tell she cuts it herself. Under the grime, she's quite pretty. He wonders who those people were, to treat her in such manner.

A man comes out from the store to the sidewalk where he and the girl are standing, saying something. Sounds Italian. Lots of Italians in the neighborhood, after all, Drek thinks as he looks up at the sign above the store. Antonio's Market.

You see that? Are you okay? Are you hurt? Store-Man says, while his eye and hand animations are darting back and forth between Drek, the girl, and down the street. They come back soon. You wait here. You see.

Her eyes fall to the ground as she states what she knows to be true; No, they won't.

You come over here, motioning her to a small stool next to a fruit bin. Sit outside here while I set out the fruits and vegetables. You see. They be back soon. It is going to warm up nice today. I give you an apple. You eat it. He pulls a rag from his pocket and hands it to her to wipe the grime from her face.

Absent any other plan she sits down, clutching her pack tightly on her lap. She hasn't shed one tear.

I never see anything like that, never like that, Store-Man says, then addressing Drek, Did you see the license number?

No, it was unreadable. I have to go, and right now. I have a plane to catch. Need coffee or I can't function. Will she be okay here?

She be fine.

Drek heads off, Store-Man saying to the girl, You wait here, and he goes inside to tell his wife, Maria, what happened. He returns shortly and hands her the promised apple. I'm Antonio. Antonio Coppoletta. What is your name?

She looks at him from the corner of her eye. Nikki.

Just Nikki?

Her body tenses a bit more in a cowering apprehension as she lowers her head and shrugs her shoulders slightly.

Guess she's only Nikki, he thinks. She seems a bit shy, sheepish even, but that is understandable. Sitting on a stool, outside a market, in a place she does not belong.

She sits there, having now chosen her own name. That woman in the car had called her, Almira and had exerted a power she could not fight, or run from. Nikki had been with her for the past few years, used to game the system. Abused for entertainment by an amoral woman.

Nikki, do you know those peoples’ names?

They have many names.

How old are you?

Eleven.

_____

Antonio has her work with Maria while he contemplates what he knows he has to do. It's the right decision he keeps telling himself. It's not like she's a stray animal. Why am I finding this so hard?

Nikki spends the morning cleaning fruits and vegetables, sweeping, and wandering about the store. She looks behind the counter at a few pictures hung on the wall. One is of Antonio and Maria in Italy. Another is of the store, a signed photo by the photographer. A street view.

About noon, Antonio mentions to Nikki they might call Social Services. They take care of you, he says, and he watches as she backs up hard against a row of bins. He can see she's beginning to breathe hard.

Maria feels a cold chill run through her. Antonio, no! There has to be something else. We can ask him what we should do.

Maria! I can't do that. I can't bring this to him.

Maria looks over at her. Nikki, don’t be afraid. Antonio, it’ll be alright. I just know. She a good worker. I’m going to make her a sandwich and, please, pay her a few dollars for her work today.

Antonio knows Maria has an uncanny knack for such things. He remembers the time he'd been in a friendly card game, with thirty bucks of his hard earned cash on the table, drawing to an inside straight if he met the raise. He'd looked at her and she'd nodded, yes.

_____

It's about time to close for the day and Antonio goes to the phone and dials the number of a man whose wife often shops at his market. He could easily make the other call and Nikki would be gone, into the system. Everything back to normal. What he is about to do is not something one does over. During the day, a few locals had come by, all saying, It's not your problem.

Hello? he hears.

George, Antonio Coppoletta. I'm sorry to disturb you. I have a small problem.

To most people he is Mr. Mazzarisi, but Antonio has a special relationship; a shared bond to some people in the old country.

Is there trouble there, Antonio?

No, no, nothing like that. We have no trouble. Might I come out and see him? Would mean a lot to me and my wife.

This evening, Antonio?

Yes, this evening. I ask this small favor of you. You see when I get there.

Okay, Antonio. Make it soon if you would though.

George, the eldest son at age thirty, can count on one hand the number of people he'd grant such a favor for, on no notice. Very odd, he thinks. What can possibly be urgent enough to bring him out this time of day?

Yes, I be there soon. Thank you, George.

_____

Johnny Mazzarisi has his territory. To some, he's Don Johnny. Those closest to him call him DJ. He is not an immigrant. He's third generation, age 54, and quite wealthy. At six foot, trim, with silver-black hair, he's a strikingly handsome man. He's also different from the other three bosses in the city. His late wife had caused something quite distinguishable in him. She had also been the only one ever to call him Johnny. Unlike his late father's brute force he has class, knows the finesse. He has a few passions. Movies are one, especially Lawrence of Arabia. He sees it at least once every year. DJ does as DJ wishes, like Auda, because it pleases him.

Antonio stands on DJ's front porch thinking, this is not going to be pleasant. Don Mazzarisi, thank you for allowing me to come.

You're welcome here. So, what's so important to bring you out at this hour?

I bring your family some fresh cantaloupes. Maria, she here in the car also. With your permission, she and Nikki take them around to the back, give them to your Gretchen, your cook.

I appreciate that, and DJ takes on a quizzical look. Who the hell is Nikki?

She is why I come here to see you.

It's common knowledge DJ likes a good story. It's not a good story and Antonio has begun to burn a bit of the goodwill he has with the Don. DJ's annoyance surfaces, sternly asking, Why do you bring her here?

We could not leave her. She, she is very frightened. She look like she's been beaten.

Antonio, what do you think I am? I have never known you to worry over such a little thing. You act like a woman. You asked George if you can come out here. Why do you come see me over this?

Don Mazzarisi, would you see her? He shrugs his shoulders. Would be a little thing.

Antonio has pressed it, having no idea where this all might go. There is a risk here. He stands there, feeling the bite of the Don's tone, his expression imploring, I need to do this.

DJ stares at him; a man he knows to be wise yet is unmoved to entertain the obvious. Most curious, he thinks. Holmes would wonder what's afoot. Okay, Antonio, since you brought my family cantaloupes. Leave Maria in the car. Bring the girl in the back. We'll talk there.

Into the lion’s den, Antonio thinks.

_____

 Darkness is soon to set in as it's now seven-thirty in the evening. Maria has cleaned her up as best she can and Nikki is near presentable as she stands in the center of the kitchen, tightly clutching her pack, while the Don surveys her. He puts his hands on his hips, gives a little whistle through his teeth, looks at Antonio, then his sons George, Lawrence, and finally Tony,