I laid peacefully in the grass under the shade of our beloved apricot tree. My cheeks rosy from the August sun. Naples never got too hot for me, always resting around 25-30 degrees celsius. I liked living in Italy, though Italian didn’t come naturally. We moved here four summers ago from Florida and I never really got the hang of speaking it. I could pick out a few words from a sentence but good luck getting me to answer in Italian. As I looked around our garden it brought a sudden calm over me, the green coated archways that connected our villa to the outside world, the wooden table and chairs sprawled out across the lawn with their bright white cushions, the reddened brick lining the pool and the teal water sending sparkles to dance on the creamy walls of our home. A dusty pathway we’ve created to take you down to the water's edge, I know how that path feels without even having to touch it. I think about the familiar feeling of the fine tan rocks sticking to the bottom of your feet all the way down. Winding down to the water's edge. A quiet lapping as it reaches out to touch the rocks and beach. Still resting under the shaded branches of the apricot tree, I looked up at the pale orange fruit begging to be picked. Maybe I’d take some fruit to Tony’s place.

My bike bobbled down the cobblestone streets all the way down to the store front. Tony’s is a sanctuary of sorts. I’ve been going to Tony’s since I was little. Tony is a family friend, always has been since I can remember. His store is filled, wall to ceiling in books, old books, new books, anything you could imagine he has a section for. Or at least a pile. Books are placed in stacks so high they could cause a problem if bumped into, which ironically is hard to avoid due to the massive collection Tony has. He only has one rule about his store, since most of his customers are long time or family, if you take a book home you have to bring it - or a new one back.

“Hey Tony.” I said making my way to the back, my usual spot.

“Hello Elena, fancy seeing you here, you going to stay long again today?” He asked without even casting a glance my way.

“Yeah I’ll be in the back, should I put some water on?”

“I suppose I could do with a refill. Thanks tesoro.”

Wandering through the maze like passages from the front of his store to the rear a book catches my eye. MANIAC. I didn’t bother reading the back. The cover spoke for itself. Before I know it the last sentences echo through my head and the books finished. My drink has gone cold. A hushed argument comes from the front of the store. I could hear Tony but the other voice is unfamiliar. Slowly I navigated back through the book towers careful not to knock any over. I listened. Tony had clearly forgotten I was there.

“Come potrebbe fare una cosa del genere e non dirmelo?” Tony said sounding frustrated and taken back.

“Pensavo lo sapessi. Pensavo che Jackson te l'abbia detto” said the unfamiliar man also sounding upset.

“No Cecco! nessuno mi ha detto niente. questo è un omicidio e non voglio far parte di questo.” Tony again. Cecco as in Cecco De Luca? Murder? What is Cecco talking about? What did Tony do?  

“Non puoi tornare indietro ora.” Cecco said with a hint of disgust.

Can’t backout now? Backout of what?

“Non ho mai voluto, mi hai trascinato dentro e voglio uscire, hai detto che nessuno si sarebbe fatto male.”

Cecco said no one would get hurt? Why would Tony even associate with the De Luca gang in the first place?

“Beh c'era una mancanza di comunicazione.”

Miscommunication? please, I thought< everyone knows if you mess with the De Luca’s you get messed up twice as bad.

“Im fuori e questa è la fine di questo ora esci dal mio negozio prima che qualcuno ti veda.”

“Se scendiamo per questo, vieni con noi.”

Go down with them? Go down for what?

I lean closer to try to see Cecco, and THUMP, a book falls to the floor, drawing the attention to me. Tony doesn’t seem to notice, I suppose books fall all the time in here. But Cecco snaps his head in my direction. I crouch as fast as I can to avoid the deadly glare sent my way. Had he seen me?

And with that he was gone. Tony watched after him as he left. Once he was out of sight Tony cradled his head in his hands and mumbled something in Italian again. I think he said A chi fa male, mai mancano scuse meaning “he who does evil, is never short of an excuse”.

“Tony?” I said quietly not to scare him too bad considering he'd completely oblivious to my presence.

“How long have you been standing there?” He looked nervous.

“Not long, just heard some angry voices and came to see if you were alright.”

“Perfect tesoro, you better hurry home it’s almost dinner.”

“If you’re sure you’re alright, I’ll see you tomorrow Tony.”

“Buona notte.”

“Buona notte.”

Something felt different on the way home, almost like I was being watched. I’ve been running the past events in my head over and over trying to imagine what could possibly be going on. Questions flood my head as I bobbled back down the cobblestone streets to our home. So is Tony just part of a gang now? And the De Luca’s of all people? Why? What’s in it for him? Tony would never do something to hurt an innocent person. Right?

I prop my bike up against the white brick. I wonder if I should do something. Confront Tony about all of this? I guess I’ll sleep on it and figure it out in the morning.

I roll over and look at the clock next to my bed, 2:00am? What is that smell? It reeks, like someone has dropped a bottle of alcohol at the foot of my bed. And then… nothing. Everything’s gone black. My senses start to disappear and I go back to sleep. No, not sleep, this is something differen--