Chapter 97 Shots Fired

• Eleni
• I stand on the wrecked stage of Piacere and turn in a slow circle. The two bars glisten under thick drifts of broken glass, and puddles of spilled alcohol drool away from them. Not a table stands upright. More than half of them are splintered. Under the brilliant daytime lights of the club, goosebumps pepper my skin. It feels like looking at a ghost.
• It feels like looking at The Greek Corner, the day after Baba’s murder and my rescue, when Tony took me back.