By Rachel Rueben
This picture was begging for someone to tell its story. So here it is, Fedeltà (which means “loyalty” in Italian)—enjoy!
Cassandra sat in the corner of the restaurant as Armand made a B-line to her table. Throwing his cell phone on the table, it bounced around until Cassandra clumsily picked it up. On it she saw a pic of her with a boss from a rival family. “What, I can’t turn my back no more Cassie?” he said as though he were hurt by the betrayal. Cassandra just sat there stone faced while Armand ranted on about loyalty and family. From an untrained eye one would have thought Cassie was petrified, anyone else in her position would be. Armand’s body count spoke for itself, family, friends, rivals, all met their end at the whim of this monster. Paranoid and delusional, he imagined himself another Al Capone. He even went so far as to hang Big Al’s portrait in his office at the construction company he was fronting.
And just like his hero big Al, Armand, considered nothing and no one off limits. Not even Cassie’s father, Ernesto Fenetti, his most loyal general wasn’t beyond reproach. Like a fool, her father bought into the family loyalty spiel that Armand spat. As Cassie went over this in her mind, she slipped her hand into her purse and felt for her glock. Though repulsed by the object, she forced herself to securely gripe the gun.
As Armand turned his back to her, he reached into his waistband saying, “I don’t wanna do this Cassie, but I ain’t got no…”
Before Armand could even finish, a light flashed from Cassandra’s chair followed by a deafening boom. Through the bottom of her tiny, pink Chanel purse, a nine millimeter bullet fired directly into his chest. Cassie watched in disgust as Armand clutched his chest, “Bitch!” he whispered falling to his knees breathless. This time without hesitation, Cassie stood up, took her gun out of her purse and put another bullet in his skull. She watched hypnotized as Armand’s body shook on the diner floor, expelling his final breath.
Quickly she gathered her purse, and Armand’s phone then, made her way back to the kitchen of the diner before his goons filed in. As Cassie fled the scene, she smiled to herself knowing she had done the one thing no one dared to ever do. Making it out of the alley, Cassie looked both ways to make sure the coast was clear. When she turned the corner, she saw the street totally deserted, slowing down, Cassie started walking normally as though nothing happened. Watching her back, she made her way down the street until she disappeared into the foggy mist. That night, Cassandra left town a marked woman.