Fishbones Book II – Chapter 42: Smile

Posted On October 27, 2021

Illustration by Eyugho

The marina was quieter at night. It was to be expected, as the yacht club was technically closed. But that hadn’t stopped Demos from stepping over the ineffective chain with a dangling “No Entry” sign. It was only a few hours earlier that Gino had requested their presence.

“I need to speak with you tonight—on La Veloce,” Gino had said amidst the chatter and ambiance of the restaurant. Those brilliant blue eyes had drifted from his grandson over to Ferris, holding him in place. “Both of you.”

Demos knew his grandfather well enough to see that something was different about his tone. Beneath that omnipresent smile was a hint of sober intention. A sign that this was more than a casual evening chat on his ship. Was something wrong?

And why did he want Ferris there, too?

The narrow docks were dark. Empty. The black sea lapped against the pier, rippling under the half moon. Stacks of orange crates left the air smelling like salt and citrus. 

And there it was, a light on a single ship. On La Veloce.

They boarded to find Gino on the open deck. The man was seated in a lounge chair, his attention set on the city lights. It was then Demos realized how unusual it was to see his grandfather so completely alone. He was nearly always with others—with his family, with his men. There had to have been a reason he would leave himself vulnerable like this. Isolated—open.

But what reason could that possibly be?

Demos’ heart stuttered in his chest as he approached, waiting for the man to feel his presence.

After a moment, Gino turned with a smile. “Sit.”

Demos took the seat beside him and Ferris followed suit. A chill ran up Demos’ back. It was no longer winter, but it wasn’t quite spring. 

“You wanted to see us, Nonno?”

“Yes.” Gino laced his hands, giving Demos his full attention. “I’ve noticed a change in you. In the last few months.”

Demos’ eyes tightened. “What do you mean?”

“You know better than to play at naivety,” Gino said. He had continued in English, likely for Ferris’ sake. “I can see it. The smile you wear to protect yourself is gone. The one you carry now—it is effortless. True. Will you tell me why that is?”

Once again Demos’ heart began to malfunction. Anxiety swelled in his bloodstream, bringing a flush to his face. “I—I’m happy.”

“And what is it… that is making you happy?”

“I—“ Demos’ next words were lost in a void, a place where the truth was supposed to be. He could feel Ferris looking at him, likely because Demos had never before acted this way around his grandfather. With hesitancy in his voice and creased, deadlocked eyes.

It wasn’t that he didn’t know the answer. He knew what was making him happy. And the fact that Gino had invited Ferris told him that his grandfather knew, as well.

And that was the most terrifying thing he could think of.

“Nonno—“ Demos swallowed. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“The only thing I want from you is your honesty,” Gino said. His tone hadn’t changed. It was even—gentle. The same patience he had always shown, from the day Demos was born to this very moment. “Can you give me that?”

It was a question Demos would never answer. Voices from the docks stole their attention. Demos stood, leaning over the railing to see a group of men moving together. He recognized a voice, or perhaps two. These were men he had seen before, heard before. These were Marianis. Their shadows peeled over the wooden walkway as they approached. Heading directly toward La Veloce.

“What are they doing here?” Demos asked, his throat dry.

Gino joined him at the railing, his expression sobering. “Something that doesn’t concern you.”

“But—“

“Go.” Gino gestured toward the starboard side of the ship, away from the voices. “I need to talk to these men alone.”

Demos wasn’t moving. His entire life, he had followed this man’s directions in a heartbeat. But here, and now, he could only stand paralyzed as the sound of shoes on planks grew closer. Then, he felt a warmth. Gino’s hand had found his cheek. Still, Demos didn’t move, even as his grandfather leaned in to kiss the side of his face.

“Lo so, e ti voglio bene,” Gino said, his voice quiet against the cold air.

At that moment, Demos forgot to breathe. Forgot to blink. He could only stare at the man he called his grandfather as a thousand truths bore down on him at once.

When he finally found his voice, there was only one word he could say. “Nonno—“

But Gino had turned away, shifting his attention to Ferris. “Take him home.”

Ferris nodded, then placed a hand on Demos’ arm. The touch brought him back to reality and he took in a sudden breath, chilled air filling his chest. He was led away before he could protest, down the ladder at the opposite end of the ship. Out of sight—never there.

As Ferris continued to lead him away, Demos could only look back. He stared as six men boarded La Veloce, then disappeared from his line of sight. Ferris’ grip tightened on his arm and his pace quickened until they had made it as far as the chain that had failed to bar their entry.

“Ferris, we need to go back,” Demos said, his voice coming up much weaker than he’d hoped.

But Ferris wasn’t budging. “He told us to go.”

“I know, but—“

Gunshots broke the silence over the marina. One, two—and then three. And at that moment Demos could no longer feel his own pulse. He screamed something, or thought he did, wresting free from Ferris’ grip to bolt back the way they had come. But he would never make it past a few steps.

His body was thrown down to the pavement with a dull thump as Ferris tackled him, pinned him. The scream he thought he had released was still inside him, still in his chest—burning white and desperate as his shoes scraped wood.

“Let me go!” Demos spat, hoarse—shaking. His words rising up in clouds.

Ferris only tightened his hold, both arms crossed over Demos’ chest as he anchored him with the weight of his entire body. “Demos, stop!”

“Let go!” he cried, elbowing and swatting. But it was useless. All the strength in Ferris that Demos had grown to cherish was now being used against him. He could feel fingers digging into his skin, immobilizing him. Demos could still hear the gunshots ringing in his ears, could still feel his grandfather’s hand, steady on his face. 

His lungs were strained as he struggled for air, struggled for freedom. Tears obscured his vision, welling in his eyes as he shouted one last time into the cold air. “I can’t lose him!”

“I can’t lose you!” Ferris cried against his shoulder.

And then the darkness peeled back. An orange glow stretched over the marina, flickering, and Demos looked up to see the silhouette of La Veloce at the heart of a swelling fire. A raw cry escaped his throat, a sound he had never before made. Pain filled every part of him, the scrapes on skin and wrenched limbs—the way his heart twisted and convulsed in the vice of his chest.

Somewhere at the opposite end of the marina, six figures disappeared into the night. Dark smoke billowed, sparks reflecting brightly in the water’s surface. Everything smelled black—caustic and bitter. Burnt wood and chemicals. 

“Nonno,” Demos said, the single word dry and shaky. He collapsed beneath Ferris’ grip, sobs quaking his slight frame. He no longer struggled, no longer fought. All he could do was give in to the pavement, to the smoke.

To the sight of La Veloce, consumed by flame.