Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Sopranos characters.
Summary: (Sequel to Through My Fingers) "Silvio." The look in her eyes frightened me. Swarming in those beautiful depths was the thing I had hid from my whole life. "We can go far away, far away from everything," she whispered. "We can have a new life. A better life."
The wire cut into my hands painfully, breaking the rough skin and causing blood to gush out and run down my arms.
Fucking bastard.
Tony hadn't told me why I had to kill him.
"Just do it," he had said in that chilling voice of his, his eyes black and evil. I had nodded, staring right back at him with a deadly gaze of my own.
That's one thing you could never do. Ask questions.
This bastard was putting up a hell of a fight, that was for sure.
It was three o'clock in the morning, and the night was strangely silent with little moon to light the way. The unlucky guy was rummaging around in his open garage. The light wasn't on.
Stupid fuck. Only a real idiot would do something that stupid in the middle of night, knowing full well he had enemies. Well, it would only make my job easier.
My car was parked down the alley a ways, and I quietly hid behind a high pile of boxes and watched him. The man was digging around in the back of his trunk and was cursing quietly.
I pulled the wire out of my jacket pocket noiselessly and slowly crept forward. He was about 5'8" with a decent build and muscles visible beneath his shirt. It wasn't going to be that easy. But then again, I had the advantage of surprise.
Now or never.
I raised my hands and then violently forced the wire over his head and into his neck, pulling back with every ounce of strength I could muster. Spit was flying from his open mouth as his fists flew backwards, trying to hit me. I kneed him hard in the back, causing him to double over in pain.
The wire was fucking hurting my hands. My blood was starting to soak into my shirt. But it would be over soon.
After what seemed like an eternity, he finally slumped forward, motionless. I dropped him, and he hit the ground hard.
Good riddance.
Silently tucking the wire back into my pocket, I turned around and saw that no one was there.
The open trunk caught my attention. There was a bunch of random junk scattered around, but the spare tire caught my eye. Covering my hands with the dry parts of my sleeves, I scooped handfuls of money out from the sides.
I shoved my find into my jacket, smiling.
I took one last look at the man I'd just strangled and sighed. His blood was seeping slowly out of the gash on his neck.
I was getting too old for this shit.
Walking out of the garage and down the alley towards my car, Meadow Soprano popped into my mind without warning. Her beautiful smile mocked me silently, her knowing eyes unnerved me. That little bitch. Fuck her.
I wasn't perfect. Her dad sure wasn't. I wondered if she knew her dad was a cold-blooded killer who had too many goomaras to name. I'm sure my own wife knew a lot about me, about the horrible things I'd done. My daughter probably didn't. But perhaps she suspected. It wouldn't be a surprise.
But why did it bother me so much that Meadow knew the truth about me? About her father?
I climbed into my car, slamming the door shut. Speeding out of the alley and onto the street, I tried to block her god damned face out of my mind. But she wouldn't go.
What type of animal was I? Someone as innocent and beautiful as her was dirtied by the repulsive things we did. Her house, her clothes, her things—were all obtained by crime, by horrible acts of violence and evil.
And what if she fell into the same trap as all the other mafia girls? She almost did with Jackie Aprile Jr. What if she did end up becoming a mob wife, someone who would possibly be beaten and without a doubt cheated on?
The thought made me sick, made me want to puke all over the steering wheel. Everything I touched wilted under my fingers, rotted into nothing.
Meadow.
I could never let that happen to her. Ever.
I reached the Bada Bing to get rid of my clothes and clean my bloody hands.
When had everything turned to shit?
But Meadow—she was the light at the end of the tunnel, the reminder that there was something good left in this world. She was hope.
0o0o0o0o
Her guitar was truly amazing. It was a black and white Danelectro '50 Double-Cutaway, with a hollow body and an amazing full, ringing sound. To my great surprise, she hadn't picked something more expensive. She could have had anything she wanted. Something that cost thousands of dollars.
But she had picked this one. My heart swelled with pride. She had chosen well. I strummed her DR strings and whistled. "This is a real beauty." Stroking the smooth neck, I looked up at Meadow and smiled. She smiled back. "You picked out a good one."
"Thanks," she said.
I played a little more and noticed her listening intently. Suppressing the urge to chuckle, I decided to make a good first impression on her.
I continued playing as I spoke to her. "I'm gonna start by teaching you the basic notes." I looked up to be greeted by that famous little smirk. "Already know them," she countered.
She was good.
"Oh yea? Show me."
I gripped the guitar by the neck and extended it to her. She reached out and took it, her fingers brushing mine.
She shivered again.
Smirking inwardly, I pretended not to notice.
She played different notes, telling me what they were. I admit that I was impressed.
"Good. That's the hardest part. We can move ahead now."
She seemed pleased with this news.
Then she surprised me further by knowing basic scales and chords. This was going to be easier than I expected. I told her this.
"There's nothing more difficult than trying to explain something to a clueless person," I said, thinking of the retards I had to deal with at work.
Meadow giggled.
I glared at her, speaking to her harshly. "What are you laughin' for?"
Immediately, she looked away, fear settling in her body. "I—I—um…"
I grinned evilly, trying not to laugh again. "Just messing' with you, kid. Don't be so serious all the time."
The murderous look on her face amused me. She continued playing, her cheeks reddening in embarrassment.
I win again, Meadow.
