Family Business

CHAPTER 1.

The lights of the Chicago skyline brighten the path to my destination; my heart was racing. I loved these car rides. The exhilarating feeling I got was something that was unable to be replicated. The only time I feel like this is when I'm breaking the law. And we were shamelessly doing so.

I felt the breaks of the car and I catch the driver's eye.

"Sofia..." he says.

I nod and step out of the car.

I sashay my hips towards my destination. I'm headed for the wooden door that has a sign tacked onto it that reads, "See manager for all incoming shipments". I smile to myself knowing who put the sign up.

I see a copper headed down the street; I know he has seen me headed to the wooden door. Nowadays, the heat is always out and about, looking for trouble. Looking for me. As if my party clothes weren't enough to confirm his suspicions, he stops beside me.

"Well, hi there, honey."

"Hullo, there sir." I say, batting my lashes and giving the most innocent eyes that I can. If I don't do this right, we are all screwed.

"What in the world is a pretty little lady like you doing out here late at night? Miss, it's almost 11." He inquires.

"Yes sir, I know sir. I was just headed home. From work." I stutter out, laying it thick. I know what's behind that door and my mind is wondering if he can tell, by my actions, what lies behind it.

"Well, ma'am with all due respect, you look as if you coming from a clip joint, dressed like that and all." He says, motioning up and down to my attire.

I try my best to look offended. "What in the world are you implying? I am just another woman in this city, trying to get home from working long hours. You should understand that more than anyone, Officer. Clip joint..." I say with disgust. "I am appalled that you would insinuate such a thing." I twirl the beads of my long necklace around my red fingertips.

Keep him talking, shouldn't be much longer.

The muffled brass of a trumpet blares out from the night with a shrill, pleasurable sound. There it is, I think to myself.

I move in front of the door.

"Oh no, Officer. You don't want to go down there. You really don't. It's just those York boys from down on 95th. You know, they just practicing their instruments. You know, Miss York can't keep no handle on e'm."

"Ma'am I'm gonna have to ask you to move, don't make me ask you twice."

Reluctantly, I move my body away from the door. The butterflies in my stomach have turned into bouncy balls, the most incessant bouncy balls in all of history.

He opens the door and the lights of the speakeasy shine up from the bottom of the stairs. An overwhelming smell of alcohol fills the air and the copper glances back at me, "Miss, I need you to stay back here and wait for my colleagues to come down."

"Yes, sir, of course." I say, biting my bright red lip and twisting my fingers into knots.

I watch him disappear down the stairs. I hear hollers and exclamations. All those partygoers, flappers, and bookies that have nowhere to go but up, right back into the heart of Chicago; into the arms of the fuzz that I can hear in the distance.

There's a back entrance; I know Leo and Marco are there. Waiting.

We've been staking out this area for months, almost a whole year. We been planning this one a long time. The back exit isn't known to many, but I bet all the Angelis' know by now. This is a family business after all.

I stay where I am, not wanting to draw attention to myself. I rock back and forth on my heels, check my hair, check for red lipstick on my teeth, and blow at kiss at my reflection in a nearby window.

Anytime now.

As if on command, I hear footsteps running up the stairs. There's always runners when it comes to gettin busted. I feign an injury as the drunk group of people run past me and I let out a startled screech as I fall to the ground.

"Officer!! Officer!!" I holler, with the most distress I can manage.

"Lady, get up and go home!" He shouts at me, running down the street after the group that supposedly shoved me to the ground.

The heat was really out tonight. 5 copper cars come to a screeching halt outside the busted speakeasy.

I attempt to stop one of them.

"Officer, please sir, one of those... those... hooligans knocked me down and stole my purse."

"Look, lady. We got a bust going on here. Get on outta here. It ain't safe for you out here darling. Go home." He says.

I smile to myself and get to my feet. I cradle my wrist and start to walk away. I duck down a nearby alleyway to wait for the police to dissipate.

I sit against the brick of the building next to a metal trashcan. It takes about half an hour for the last cop car to leave. Even when they have all cleared out, I stay where I am for another 15 minutes before I even think about moving. I brush the dust from the ground off of my dress and begin my trek to the back entrance of the speakeasy.

Down about another block, I make a couple turns and enter through an almost non-existent door that is teetering off its rusted hinges. I know where I'm going as soon as my high-heel clad shoe hits the floor. I step into the makeshift hallway and begin my descent down the sketchy stairs. I hear laughter and I remind myself to hit my brothers when I reach them.

This is where things get tricky... When the owner of the busted speakeasy made this escape, he only told one other person. Nico Angelis. Well Nico helped him build it. They made a basement but completely boarded and bricked up half of the room. To get to the other side, you have to feel for the tiniest hitch in the crumbling wall and kick a couple bricks in. I've gotten to the point where I can do it with ease. My heels click softly on the floor as I land inside the hidden room. I spot the hole in the floor that our captor came through. At the other end of that is his speakeasy... well it was until he got busted.

"Ahhh, Sofia, la mia sorellina!!" Marco cries out.

"Aye, now shut up. I could hear you two pagliacci from out there." I scold. They might be older than me but I know better than to make this a joke. "Come on, stronzinos, we need to get going."

Leo and Marco grab our captor and we begin our ascent out of the barely standing building. I lead the way; Leo and Marco behind me on either side of the man that was dumb enough to double cross Nico Angelis.

We make it do the street and I check to make sure all is clear. Desolate, just as planned.

"The hell I say, boys? Get him to the fucking car." Says a gruff voice that would've made me nervous if it hadn't been the same one to sing me to sleep many years ago.

Two 1924 Chrysler Model B-70's gleam under the lights of the average Chicago night.

I slide into the passenger seat of the first car and watch in the rearview mirror as Leo and Marco throw our captor inside of vehicle number two.

"Well done, honey, well done." Says Nico Angelis as my brothers slam their doors shut resolutely.

"Thanks." I say, casting a sly smile in the direction of my pops. My father, Nico Angelis, the most dangerous man in all of Chicago, potentially in all of Mob history. This was my life.

Welcome to the Mafia.