Page 106 of The Killer Cupcake
The heavy, determinedpoundof Carmelo’s footsteps was closing the distance. A bullet sparked viciously off the iron rungs of a fire escape just above him, showering sparks like angry fireflies. Anotherthwackedinto a brick wall inches from his shoulder, spraying stinging sparks. Desperate, he cut left into the deeper gloom of a connecting alleyway and skidded to a halt on loose gravel. Solid brick walls, stained and unforgiving, rose on three sides. Overflowing trash cans blocked any possible crevice.
A dead end.
The cloying reek of rot filled his nostrils.
Nowhere to run.
"Turn around." Carmelo's voice was steady, unnervingly calm despite the chase, cutting through Ely's ragged gasps for air.
Ely turned slowly, hands raised palms-out, but muscles coiled. Carmelo stood silhouetted against the alley's entrance, pistol unwavering, aimed squarely at Ely's chest. Behind him, the hellish glow of the Triangle Social Club fire pulsed with the encroaching sirens, painting the narrow alley in shifting patterns of violent orange and deep, impenetrable shadow.
"I've been waiting for this all day." Carmelo's words fell flat as stones. "You've wanted my Kathy from the beginning."
"I knew Kathy when you were still in short pants," Ely said, voice controlled despite the gun aimed at his heart. "She was mine before you existed, and she's mine now."
Carmelo advanced, the Colt steady as a surgeon's hand. "Then I'll hold her hand at your funeral. It’s my turn.” Something wild danced behind his eyes—part madness, part savage joy. His finger slowly tightened on the trigger. Ely's muscles coiled, waiting for the blast.
"Melo! Stop!" Matteo's command cracked like a whip from the alley mouth.
Neither man flinched. Ely kept his eyes on death's messenger; Carmelo's aim never wavered from Ely's chest.
“Melo! Listen to me!” Matteo stepped into the narrow space with the Judas, better known as Slim, as his shadow. Ely registered Slim’s presence. The tall man who’d chosen the Ricci side, playing butler, chauffeur, and spy while feeding scraps to Bumpy Johnson to maintain his precarious middle ground.Never trusted him, Ely thought bitterly.
Matteo pressed on, his voice low and urgent. “You shoot him, you lose Kathy forever. That ain’t a guess, brother. It’s a stone-cold fact. I’m losing Debbie right now. I can feel her slippin’ through my fingers. You pull that trigger, this war... this poison between us and our women... it never ends. You hear me?Never.”
Ely held his gaze. "That's right. Kathy will never forgive you. And she’ll know it’s you. She’ll see it in your eyes.”
Carmelo’s jaw muscle jumped like a trapped animal. His finger caressed the trigger’s curve. Then, with a speed that blurred, he reversed the pistol and slammed the steel butt into Ely’s temple. The crack echoed in the alley. Ely folded like a puppet with cut strings, crumpling onto the filthy cobbles. Barely conscious, blood bloomed from his nose and split lip, hot and metallic on his tongue.
Carmelo crouched low beside him, the gun now dangling loosely in his grip. His voice dropped to a whisper thick with venom. “You know what she is to me?”
Ely spat crimson onto the stones. “I know what shewas.”
“Is.” Carmelo’s voice cracked like ice. “Always will be.” He brought the gun up slowly, the barrel finding Ely’s face again. “You think a piece of paper? Some fake vows she made to you to forget me, changes anything? It doesn’t. But Henry Freeman ain’t wrong. This is war. My war. Harlem will burn because I can’t have her. You tell Henry Freeman this: Harlem is Don Cosimo Riccis, it’s mine.” He leaned closer, the smell of cordite and fury sharp in Ely’s nostrils. “So here’s your mercy, Ely the fake husband. Take her. Take her back to Mississippi and make her forget me if you can. But you stay thefuckout of Harlem. Breathe her air here again? Touch her again in front of me?” He tapped the barrel against Ely’s bloodied forehead. “I’ll put you down right in front of her. Make her watch. Take her home with me, where she belongs.”
Ely stared up, past the gun, into Carmelo’s eyes. There was no lie there, only a terrible, absolute conviction.Gospel truth. Carmelo’s bottom lip trembled, a visible battle against the urge to finish it. With a sound like a choked growl, he pushed himself upright. He turned, a dark shape against the distant firelight, and walked away without another word.
Matteo stepped into the void Carmelo left, his face grim. “Get Kathy out of Harlem,” he said, urgency tightening his voice. “Now. I can’t hold him twice.”
Slim merely tipped his hat, a ghost of a smile touching his lips as he glanced down at the broken man. Then he and Matteo moved off, shadows melting after Carmelo. Ely was left alone in the stinking grime, the taste of blood and defeat thick in his mouth, the cold cobbles leaching the last warmth from his bones.
CHAPTER 41
TWO YEARS LATER - 1954 BUTTS MS
"Hey!" answered Kathy, cradling the phone between her shoulder and ear as she worked diligently at the stove.
Debbie smiled at the sound of crying Sandra in the background. "What's wrong with my baby-girl?”
"Spoiled, what else. Ely will be home from the Mill soon. She knows it, so she’s giving me the business before he gets here and gives her everything she wants.”
Debbie laughed.
“Hold on,” Kathy said.
Debbie listened as she soothed her baby girl with a treat from the kitchen and set her in a high chair. Debbie smiled and touched the swell of her own belly fondly. Another child is exactly what she wanted. She loved how excited and attentive Matteo became whenever he even thought of the new baby she carried.
“Hey. Sorry. I’m back,” said Kathy.
