R. Ellory - A Quiet Vendetta

I borrowed Ten Cent’s car, took it to an autoshop and had them valet it. God almighty only knows what they found inside, but they were family people and wouldn’t have cared anyway. I parked the car a block from the house so Ten Cent wouldn’t forget he’d lent it to me and drive off someplace, and I walked home. I dressed nice, like for church or something, and I cleaned my shoes and knotted my tie. It was early evening, a Saturday, and by seven I was leaving again with a spring in my step and two thousand bucks in my pocket.

When she opened the door she was dressed in nothing but slippers and a housecoat. Her hair was tied back of her head like she’d been cleaning or something, and when she saw me standing there with a thousand-dollar suit and a thirty-five-dollar bouquet it was all she could do to keep her eyes in her head. I was not a spectacularly handsome man, I mean hell, I couldn’t have modeled for magazines or whatever, but I scrubbed up clean and you could have taken me anyplace and not felt ashamed.

‘Yes?’ she said.

‘There’s a show at the Metropolitan Opera,’ I said. ‘A music show.’ I handed her the flowers. She looked at them like I was handing her a bag with a dead rat inside. ‘Anyway, there’s a music show at the Metropolitan Opera-’

‘You said that already… you better hurry now or you’re gonna miss the start.’

I looked at her. ‘I worked hard to look this good, and you look good even in your housecoat and your slippers. You get happy just being mean to people, or is it because you’re sick in the mind or something?’

She laughed then, and the sound was like something better than anyone might ever hear at the Metro.

‘No, I’m sick in the mind, and I can’t help but be mean to people,’ she said. ‘Now go away with your stupid flowers and whatever. Go find some pretty blonde with legs to her neck and take her to the opera house.’

‘I came to take you.’

Angelina Maria Tiacoli looked aghast. ‘I seem to remember seeing you in the street. That was you, wasn’t it?’

‘On Hester Street when you came from the hairstyling salon.’

Angelina frowned, was momentarily taken aback. ‘What, you take notes or something?’

I shook my head. ‘No, I don’t take notes… I just have a knack for remembering important stuff.’

‘And where I get my hair done is important?’

‘No, not where you get your hair done… the fact that it was you was what was important.’

‘You’re serious, aren’t you?’

‘Serious enough to ask for Don Giacalone’s blessing, and for the blessing of the family.’

‘Blessing for what?’

‘To marry you, Angelina Maria Tiacoli… to marry you and make you my wife.’

‘To marry me and to make me your wife, is that so?’

‘Yes, that’s so.’

‘I see,’ she said. ‘And you know who I am?’

‘I know enough about you to want to take you out, and I don’t know enough about you to find you very interesting indeed.’

‘So I’m interesting, eh?’

‘Yes,’ I said. ‘Interesting and beautiful, and when you speak I can hear everything in your voice that makes me think I could love you for the rest of your life.’

‘Did you practise this before you came over, or did you get a Hollywood screenwriter to make this stuff up?’

I nodded my head. ‘You got me there. I got a Hollywood writer to put it all down on paper for me, and I told him if it didn’t work then I was gonna go over to his house and shoot him in the knee.’

She laughed again. I was getting through.

‘So you went and dressed up all smart and you bought some flowers and you came over here with no invitation to ask me if I would go to the Metropolitan Opera with you?’

‘I did.’

‘I can’t come.’

I frowned. ‘Why?’

‘Because I can’t go out with you, or anyone like you, so you’re gonna have to get over it real quick and find someone else to harass.’

Angelina Tiacoli smiled once more, but it wasn’t a warm or well-meaning smile, and then she closed the door hard and fast and left me standing on the stoop.

I waited for thirty seconds or so until I heard her footsteps disappear inside, and then I stepped back, laid the bouquet against the door and drove home.

I went back the following afternoon after lunch.

‘ You’re back again ?’

‘ Yes .’

‘You’re not gonna give up, are you?’

I shook my head.

‘How was the music show?’

‘ I didn’t go .’

‘ You want me to pay for the tickets, is that it ?’

‘ No, I don’t want you to pay for the tickets .’

‘ So what do you want ?’

‘ I want to take you out someplace nice, maybe see a movie -’

‘Or a show at the Metro.’

‘Right,’ I said, ‘a show at the Metro, or maybe just have a cup of coffee someplace and talk for a while.’

‘Just a cup of coffee.’

‘Sure, if that’s what you want.’

‘No, it’s not what I want, but I’m thinking if I go for a cup of coffee with you then you might leave me alone. Is that hoping too much?’

‘Yes, that’s hoping too much. If you come for a cup of coffee with me then I’m gonna want to come back and go someplace else next time.’

Angelina said nothing for a moment, and then she nodded. ‘Okay,’ she said. ‘Come back at four.’

She closed the door.

I went back at four. I beat on the door until someone in the adjacent house leaned out of the window and told me to shut the fuck up, asshole .

Angelina was either out, or she was hiding inside.

I wasn’t mad, not then, not ever; I was just determined.

I left it ’til Tuesday evening, a little after seven and I called at her house again.

She came to the door. She was dressed smart, a skirt, a woollen jacket, a pretty pink blouse that made her complexion warm and inviting.

‘I was ready last night and you didn’t come,’ she said.

‘I didn’t say I would come last night.’

‘You’re right, you didn’t, but seeing as how you came the day before and the day before that I figured you were gonna come every day until I gave in.’

‘If you’d said you were gonna be ready last night I would have come last night. You just shut the door on me and then when I came back on Sunday you weren’t here.’

‘I was here, I just didn’t come to the door.’

‘How come?’

‘I wanted to see how persistent you were.’

‘And?’

‘And you’re very persistent, though I’m still surprised you didn’t come yesterday.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘Apology accepted,’ she said. ‘So where you gonna take me?’

‘Where d’you wanna go?’

‘Up to Avenue of the Americas on the subway, and find the most expensive restaurant and eat stuff I’ve never eaten before.’

‘We can do that.’

She paused for a moment as if contemplating something, and then she nodded. ‘Okay, give me five minutes and I’ll be down.’

‘You’re not gonna shut the door and then go hide inside the house?’

She laughed. ‘No… give me five minutes.’

I gave her five minutes. She didn’t come down. She left me standing there a further two minutes and then I heard her footsteps behind the door.

She opened up and came out. She looked great; she smelled great, something like violets or honeysuckles or something, and when I gave her my arm she took it and I walked her to the car. I opened the door for her and drove her to the subway station. I didn’t ask her why she didn’t want to drive. She wanted the subway, she got the subway. Had she asked me to buy the subway for her I would have found a way.