Chapter 4: Duress

David stepped out into the darkness of Carlo’s backyard pool, barely illuminated by the poolside lights. As soon as David stepped outside of the Boss’ mansion and into the backyard as he was ordered to, he found a man that was bound, gagged, and strewn on the cement ground by the swimming pool before him. He wasn’t sure, but he had a good idea of what was about to happen; he would be ordered to kill this man. He felt around his overcoat to see if he still had his gun with him, and he did. However, he remembered that gun hadn’t been reloaded since the previous night.

“Ah. I see why you said I wouldn’t be getting in the pool — I think,” stated David. He felt a tugging sensation in his heart. His conscious didn’t want to do this, but Dmitry loomed over him and the imminent threat of death was palpable. Before his eyes, a crowd of 60 to 80 gangsters in varied, uncoordinated clothes of varying formality were all around the pool, all eyes on him. Armando and Bernardo were in the crowd, as well as many more than he had yet to meet. Hopefully, he wouldn’t have to truly know them all.

Carlo walked around the perimeter of the crowd around the pool, before stopping on the side opposite to David, pulling up a wooden lounge chair to sit in. “After opening our books, today, we will either witness the birth of a New Man, or the death of a naïve man who dared to cross Carminio’s path,” orated the experienced crime boss. “We shall also take care of a traitor to the family.” All the mobsters clapped at this announcement, including Dmitry. David joined to do as the Italian-led crime family did on their own territory. “In order to prove yourself, young boy, you must prove that you will hunt on behalf of the family, in front of us all.”

David looked down to the man that was prostrate before him. He knew that he didn’t have any personal conflicts with the unknown stranger, but he figured that his soon-to-be bosses did. He saw that the man’s eyes were filled with the abject horror of a wild animal that was trapped and could only wait for the sweet kiss of death. He frowned at the man; he felt that the expression of unbridled terror was unfitting for the well-built man with long, raven-black hair before him. He would have easily started small talk with this man, but luck was not in this man’s hand. He knew that his options were either for this man to die, or for both to die anyway. David didn’t want to die at that point in his life, nor did he think that two deaths were better than one. The unfortunate choice to make was clear.

David let a few sweet, quiet words escape from his lips, hoping that only the man before him would hear them. “I’m sorry.” He stood back up and approached Dmitry with a request. “Oh dear… I haven’t reloaded my gun today. Could I borrow a gun from someone?”

“Knock yourself out,” answered Dmitry. He pulled out a 9 mm Glock handgun and a silencer from his own leather coat. The imposing Russian mobster spent a few minutes putting the silencer on the firearm. “Just give it back to me when you’re done…if you get any smart ideas, remember that everyone here is armed to the teeth,” warned Dmitry. He opened his leather jacket to show David that he had another Glock on him as well. Dmitry handed the first handgun to David and then took out the second handgun as a threat to keep David in line. He nonchalantly waved it towards David’s general direction as an obvious hint.

David gulped and turned around to look at the stranger that he was about to unwillingly murder. He never wanted things to go this far. He knew that defending murderers in a court of law was a potential path he could go down. He made peace with that a few months before this moment. However, he never imagined himself pulling a trigger on someone beyond self-defense. He was still upset that he killed someone in self-defense and still felt traces of morning hangover. He wasn’t sure where to pin himself until he remembered that dying would also be terrible. He wondered if he could at least atone for the things he would be doing later. He closed his eyes for a few seconds and took a deep breath to calm his nerves, then remembered that he was in a situation of distress. As soon as David opened his eyes, he unlocked the hammer, aimed at the man’s body and fired two shots.

David’s first shot successfully hit the man in the chest, while the second one missed. The man laying before David rolled over to dodge the second bullet. The unknown man was precariously dangling off the side of the pool now, barely clinging onto dear life. David walked towards the man and loomed over him like the grim reaper. “I’ve always believed in giving people choices. Would you prefer to be shot again, or would you prefer to drown?” asked David in a quiet, somber voice.

David felt like his heart was getting crushed by what he was doing. He tried his best to choke back his own tears while he watched blood pool underneath the man before him, and he desperately wanted the ordeal to end. The stranger on the ground had a puzzled look on his face, as if he had never seen someone show any compassion in his life. The stranger at David’s feet shook his head at the young man’s naivete, then motioned his head toward the chlorinated waters ahead.

With that last wish, David pushed him forward and allowed the man to sink to the bottom of the pool. Blood flowed out of the man’s sole bullet wound and contaminated the pool before him. If it were not for reprehensible circumstances that created this horrendous work, David would have appreciated the dark red ribbons of blood spiraling in the pale blue waters before his eyes, much like a sheet of marbled paper.

David had become a murderer in that moment. He killed his first human being in cold blood. He killed his second human being that night. The world around him felt cold and empty, and he wondered if he had killed his own soul in that moment. He hoped that his wounded psyche would heal over time, but he didn’t know when that would happen. More than ever before, he was unsure of what his future would look like. It didn’t matter that he had a large crowd of people cheering his actions. He felt like an irredeemable monster.

“Good job,” congratulated Dmitry. He tapped David on the shoulder twice, trying to get the new soldato to follow him and the entire crowd of mobsters that were now his colleagues. They were all ushered back inside the mansion by Carlo’s bold hand gesture. Where in the palatial residence they were all going to, David had no idea. Inside the white and gold themed lobby area, the crowd of darkly dressed gangsters moved to the left in unison like the black sheep they were—Carlo herding them in that direction from the back.

“Now, to the rest of your ritual. You have begun to earn our trust,” encouraged Carlo. As the rest of the mobsters settled into the next room, David was brought forward into a room that was completely new to him. The spacious dining room he found himself in was a room filled with rich maroon walls, mid-grey tiling, and deep brown wooden furniture and ceilings.

In the center, there was a long dining table, clearly fit for an upper-class residence, and a notable number of matching lounge chairs with maroon upholstery. Carlo motioned for David to sit at the closer end of the table, and he did. Most of the crime family remained standing with a select few taking their seats. Dmitry sat to David’s left-hand side and another man unknown to him sat on his right. Carlo walked down to the other side of room and sat down at the other end.

As more and more people sat down, David noticed that Armando and Bernardo were still standing. He made the conclusion that all the soldatos were still required to stand, and anyone who was a capo or higher was to sit. He also presumed that the man sitting to Carlo’s right was the second in command and made it a point to remember his face. He then realized that he would eventually be in another one of these rituals at some point, but as an observer instead of the inductee. David considered the whole thing to be an incredibly inefficient affair, but he kept his mouth pursed in obedience.

A soldato went from behind David and placed a 37mm gun and a weapons grade knife on the table in front of him. Another one then placed a coaster, a red wine glass, and a minimalistic white ceramic plate with a well-plated tagliata amuse-bouche with parsley before him.

Once everyone was settled in their place, Carlo raised his hands to speak. He made a strong declaration that David was sure he had said many times before. “Today, I shall give you your new code of honor.” David nodded his head to signal his attention.

“First, you shall be loyal to the Carminio family. Do not interfere with the interests of other members, and do not inform the outside world of our deeds.” David nodded a second time. He looked around the room and saw the paintings on the walls bearing witness to this ritual as well. He wasn’t an art historian by any means, but the paintings on the wall were very distinctive to him. He couldn’t remember why in that moment. However, the paintings were a pleasant distraction from his current situation.

“Second, you shall keep your head. Cooperate with your family, and do not engage in futile endeavors.” David nodded a third time. He took yet another look at the paintings. He wondered if he knew them from when he took a required Intro to Art History course during his undergraduate years. He racked his head to remember who might have painted the ominous paintings on the wall.

“Third, you shall be honorable. Respect seniority, respect women, and defend children.” David nodded a fourth time. He managed to remember the word chiaroscuro and its definition in that moment. He wasn’t sure who was notable for that. He then recalled that there were a few paintings he remembered with two women beheading a man. How fitting for Carlo’s words.

“Forth, you shall be a stand-up man. Remain alert and speak less than you listen. Do not sell out secrets. You must show courage, heart, and determination in the face of all adversity.” David nodded a fifth time. He continued to rack his brain for who had painted the images of these specific young men with fruits, wine, and other pleasantries. He made the connection that it was the same man who painted one of the paintings of a beheading and that the same artist employed chiaroscuro in a lot of his work.

“Fifth, you shall have class and independence. Be a man of the world.” David nodded a sixth time. Everything suddenly clicked in his mind. One of the works was Caravaggio’s Bacchus. He remembered thinking that the man in the painting looked exquisite when he was a younger man. He still thought so. It then became obvious that the paintings on the walls were either forgeries or prints, but it was Caravaggio nonetheless! David began to light up inside over remembering that trivia, and almost felt enlightened until he felt a forceful grasp on his right wrist.

David’s right hand was pulled to his left by Dmitry’s thin and long left hand. The Russian family member then pulled off the white glove on his hand, grabbed the knife in front of David, and jabbed the tip of the blade into his flesh to sting and draw blood. David grimaced in pain.

Dmitry squeezed at the young man’s finger to make it ooze more blood while pulling out a card with a monochromatic sepia skull drawing on it. It was yet another obvious Renaissance work, but any further details about it was outside of David’s realm of knowledge. Dmitry placed the young man’s finger over the card and squeezed even more. David’s blood dripped on the card and trailed down the paper. The drops seeped down into the skull itself. As soon as Dmitry squeezed as much blood as David could give, he gave David the blood-soaked card. He then pulled out a lighter from one of his pants pockets and set the card on fire.

Carlo gave one last statement: “By this blood oath, you are now family until death does us part. You will live by the weapons before you, and you will die by the weapons before you. You are now made by fire.”

David watched the card burn in his seeping hand, before disintegrating to ash. A soldato came from behind and poured Sangiovese into the glass and placed a single fork on David’s right side. The newly inducted Mafioso looked around and got the hint to eat the meager piece of meat in front of him. He picked up the delicate fork, slowly pierced the flesh, and devoured it in one bite. He then put the fork down onto the plate and picked up the wine glass. He put his lips to the edge of wine glass in a delicate way to minimize how much he sullied it, then slowly drank. The food and wine felt sublime, but he didn’t think it was worth what he had done. Still, this was the most comfortable part of the ritual for him.

Carlo stood up, tucked his chair in, and walked across the dining room to David. He grabbed David’s wounded hand with his leathery hand and asked “You are quite tight-lipped. You haven’t even said your name once. I wish to know.” One of David’s eyes involuntarily twitched as soon as Carlo asked that question. He really didn’t want anyone from his other life to get attached to this in any way, shape, or form. He thought that any little detail might present problems later, but then he realized that he could withhold his last name with no major issues. His first name was common enough that he felt that it was O.K. to divulge.

“…David.”

Carlo then kissed David’s wounded hand. “Splendid, Davidé. The name of a masterpiece. Welcome to your family. Now, go forth in the world.” David’s eyes twitched once again. He wasn’t sure if it was because he was just was kissed by a strange man on the hand platonically. Or that he was just kissed on the hand by a strange man that was at least twice his age. Or that he was just kissed on the hand by a man that ordered him to kill another man. Or maybe it was just the forced Italian pronunciation of his first name. David couldn’t put a finger on what bothered him the most, but it bothered him enough for him to involuntarily twitch.

David stood up and tried to shake the thoughts in his head. He tucked the chair he was sitting on under the table and started to walk out of the dining room. Dmitry followed suit. David had a vague sense of how to get out of the mansion. He could always ask Dmitry if he needed to, but he didn’t think he would. Once he got to the front door, he took his hat off from the nearby hat rack and waited for Dmitry. The lanky capo pulled out his phone and tapped away to secure yet another Uber ride.

“Farewell, young soldato. We will meet again,” forebode Carlo before shutting the door behind David and Dmitry.

“That we shall,” murmured David. He tilted his head back slightly and stared into the distance. He felt himself crashing from the aftermath of the ritual and was more exhausted than he had been in years. He walked onto the verdant grass close to the road, checked the soil for fire ants, and then sat down to wait for Dmitry. David tilted his head up to the sky and felt smaller than he ever felt before. He had known that the stars in the sky were titans in comparison to the small pebble that was the planet Earth, but he never felt as helpless as he did in that moment. Dmitry took a seat on the grass next to him, to David’s surprise.

“So—you said you were from Georgia last night. I’m assuming you mean the American one, right?” asked Dmitry. He pulled out another cigarette and his lighter for yet another smoke. David’s interest was sparked again, both from the smoke and from Dmitry genuinely remembering something about him. “It’s hilarious—our countries fought in the Cold War, and yet we’re sitting here on the same team, working for a bunch of Italians.” David looked to Dmitry with the utmost sense of curiosity. In that moment, it almost seemed as if this monster was human.

“Yes, I am. So, are Armando and Bernardo really so stupid that they can’t tell a European accent from an American one?” probed David. David remembered that the other two soldatos thought he was from Europe for reasons unknown to him. It didn’t make any sense, and he could only assume that they weren’t the sharpest tools in the shed. David’s eyes shifted left and right to scan the dark road in front of him, hoping that the car that would escort them would arrive. Also, hoping that Armando and Bernardo weren’t within earshot.

“Yes! They are idiots! Good observation!” howled Dmitry. The weathered gangster fervently laughed at David’s words, applauding his newly acquired card-counter for his sardonic question. David regretted asking now that he knew that Dmitry could laugh as loudly as he did. The Russian mobster got quieter, and asked David “Orion is beautiful in the sky tonight, no?”

“Yes, but you know what would be even better? The headlights of the ride back to Downtown Boston,” replied David. He felt the tatters of his heartstrings get pulled at even more. Normally, he would assume that anything resembling Dmitry’s wanton small talk was flirting, but he worried that he was projecting onto his Russian boss in that moment. He didn’t think he could be torn even more that night, but Dmitry managed to do it then and there. David didn’t like the intensified feeling of loneliness in his heart at all.

A few gang members here and there came from the front door of the mansion behind them. Some of them walked down the road in the darkness—presumably parking down the road from the house. Others had cars that were pulled into the far reaches of the driveway and piled up into their nice cars and drove by Dmitry and David without a second thought. David began to lose his patience and reached to pull out his phone, but a car pulled up directly in front of him as soon as he did. Dmitry stood up and ordered David to stand up. He complied.

“Get in, David,” ordered Dmitry.

When David heard his own name from Dmitry, his heart felt like it exploded then and there. In that moment, he knew that he earned this fearsome man’s respect. He felt some small shred of comfort in that, even though he knew that he shouldn’t have found it comforting.