Chapter 20

 

Gio

 

After making the call to Carla, Gio dressed himself in an expensive black suit, went up to his Special Room, and slid a wall panel aside to reveal a large collection of mounted masks. They leered down at him with dark, empty eye holes as he examined them, trying to find the right one.

 

Gio had collected masks since he was a child, years before he'd had to pick up a baseball bat and prove himself to Mario in the basement. When he was six years old, his parents had taken him on vacation to New Orleans and he'd been mesmerized by the painted masks that peered out from almost every shop window. On the final day of their trip, his mother had taken him for a walk down Bourbon Street and told him he could choose any mask he wanted.

 

After that, Gio had often hoarded his allowance to buy new masks for his bedroom wall, and when he got his first job, he spent most of his money of them too. After quietly tolerating the first few, Mario started to grumble with each new purchase that “only freaks an' sissies are into masks,” but Gio remained undeterred in his hobby.

 

Now in his twenties, Gio had dozens of masks from all over the world—porcelain ones from Japan, clay ones from Central and South America, even wooden ones from Africa. And since he'd started regularly attending the monthly masquerade on Belmont, he'd gotten a thrill from selecting a new one to wear each time so he wouldn't be identified.

 

Tonight he decided on a colorful hand-carved Chinese mask depicting a bug-eyed, snarling dragon. He took it down from its pegs carefully and put it over his own face, tying the ribbons behind his head to secure it. He relished the echo of his own breath in his ears and the light mist of condensation it left around his nose and mouth.

 

He always loved the feeling of wearing a different face over his real one.

 

Satisfied, he grabbed a leather satchel and placed a couple of items inside. Then he went back downstairs and peered out through the blinds in the living room. Now that he knew Rizzo was outside watching his place, it was hard to miss him—the pencil-necked little nimrod might have thought he was playing it cool by parking outside Gio's house and slouching down in the front seat, but the stupid sky-blue '78 Gremlin hatchback he was so proud of stuck out like a neon sign. Gio couldn't believe he hadn't noticed it before.

 

I must have been distracted, Gio thought. This reminded him of his father's most recent lecture, and he shuddered.

 

Gio slipped his phone, keys, and wallet into his pockets, and tucked a small pistol into a holster at his ankle. Then he went through the house, switching on several lights so it would look like he was still there after he'd left. He knew most observers might notice that the lights never moved or changed, but he also knew that Rizzo was a lot dumber than most observers, so he was fairly confident the ruse would work.

 

He took off the mask again, wishing he could keep it on but knowing the next part of his plan wouldn't work if he did. Carrying it carefully, he slipped out the back door of his house, locking it behind him. He hated having to sneak out of his own home like some grounded teenager, and silently cursed his father for the hundredth time that day.

 

Gio snuck around behind the house, crossing several of his neighbors' yards until he was a block away, far from Rizzo's line of sight. Then he pressed the button on his ride-sharing app and waited on the corner until the car came to pick him up.

 

“Nice mask,” the driver commented, peering at Gio in the rearview mirror.

 

“Thanks,” Gio answered, cradling the fanged dragon face in his lap.

 

They rode in silence for the rest of the trip.