by Ella James
“Leaving? Like…forever?”
“I don’t know. He was drunk and wasn’t making any sense. I’m gonna find out.”
Her eyes well as I close the space between us.
“Don’t be worried, la mia rosa. Last time, I didn’t know it was coming. He just…fucking jumped me.”
She wraps her arms around me. “God, I’m so, so sorry. I don’t know what to say to make it better.”
I close my eyes and cup the back of her head. Her hair is soft and warm and I love every inch of her against me. “You don’t need to say anything. You make everything better just by being here.”
Her cheek presses against my chest. “Soon you’ll be away from him.”
I nod.
“I want you to be careful,” she says. “Very careful. I’ve got a weird, bad feeling, Luca.”
I look down into her pretty eyes. “Don’t have a bad feeling. It’ll be all right. I promise.”
We go up to the deck, and I do just what I want, holding her against me as I lean against the yacht and we look at the water.
“Get a good night’s sleep,” she tells me as the vessel docks. “And if you can’t, promise you’ll call me and we’ll pick you up.”
“I don’t deserve you.” I kiss her forehead.
“You do.” She rises on her toes and kisses my lips, soft and gentle. “You do.” She smiles sadly. “We’ll work on that part, okay? Until it sticks.”
I feel uneasy as we walk the plank-like walkway bridging the boat and the dock. Like…it’s all some kind of drug-induced dream. I’m playing a role that isn’t meant for me. I think about that as I ride the subway home. I tell myself that I’m just tired. I need to sleep tonight. Maybe I can find out about my dad and all that stuff tomorrow.
I’m fighting to keep my eyes open when the train stops at Red Hook. Everything hurts when I stand up.
I step out into the warm, still air, and someone grabs my arm. My whole body reacts. I throw a punch before I see the person. There’s a grunt and my own “fuck” as pain flares through my head and shoulder.
When I blink, I see Alesso holding his eye. “Shit!”
“Oh, fuck. Are you okay?”
His hand cups his eye. “Fuck.” His face twists as he notices my sling. “Are you okay?”
“What are you doing here?” I ask, at the same moment as he asks, “What happened to your arm?”
I squeeze my eyes shut. I’m too fucking tired for this shit.
“Why are you here, Alessandro?”
“Dude…” He shakes his head. “You gotta come with me.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Luca
I lean over in the front seat of Zio Luigi’s Cutlass, feeling like I might pass out.
“I’m sorry, man,” Alesso says. “I’ve been looking for you for forever. I didn’t know it was your graduation day.”
I hold my throbbing head. “Say that again,” I growl. “Tell me that fucking shit again.”
Leo, sitting in the back, puts his hand on my shoulder. “Your dad’s a rat. He’s been squealing to the FBI.”
I squeeze my eyes shut until I see stars. “He’s a fucking drunk.” I grit my teeth so hard my head throbs. “He’s not working with the FBI!”
“Your dad’s not a drunk,” Alesso says darkly. “He’s a liar.”
“He might be a liar but he’s not a rat.”
“Tony has recordings.”
“Of what? He’s not in the fucking mob! What could he even be saying?”
“It’s logistics shit,” Alesso says as he reaches around me, buckling my seatbelt. “Like where they are and what they’re doing. He listens for the FBI on some kind of device.”
“That doesn’t—”
“Tony said your dad was in deep with Roberto when we were kids. He was helping launder money through the store.”
That makes me snicker even as my shoulder throbs. “Now I know that’s a fucking lie.”
My friends don’t say anything.
So I ask, “Why would he even do that? What reason would he have to talk to the FBI?”
“Immunity,” Alesso says, pulling away from the curb. “Tony said they promised him he’d get a new life.”
“What kind of fucking life could he have? He’s a fucking addict.”
“Tony said he was promised help moving your family.”
My throat tightens. “This is bullshit. Tony’s a goddamn liar. I’m going to Columbia, so where are we moving?”
Leo whistles. “Damn, dude.”
“I knew you were Einstein 2.0 or some shit, but fuck.” Alesso gives a shake of his head. The car jolts, squeaking on its old shocks as he gasses it through a yellow light.
My stomach pitches. “My dad’s not a narc, A.”
“Listen, man, I know it’s hard to buy. But I heard the recordings, man. He’s a narc. He’s a narc and someone from way up told Tony to fix it.”
“Fix it?” My vision blurs a little. “What do you mean fix it?”
The car bumps over a pothole, sending a bolt of pain up my neck and down my left arm. Alesso’s eyes slide to mine. “Luca.” His voice cracks on my name.
Leo mutters, “Jesus, Aless.”
“Fuck you,” he shouts toward the back of the car. “What should I have said?”
“Look at him, he’s fucked up!”
I turn around so I can glare at Leo. “No I’m not.”
Then I glare at Alesso. “You better get your fucking stupid brother in line.”
He laughs—but it’s a helpless, strained sound. “How? Don’t lie to yourself. I can’t do shit, and you can’t either. It’s a done deal.”
“Oh is that what goddamn stupid Tony said? That it’s a done deal? It’s a done deal, I know something else that’s a done fucking deal.”
Leo and Alesso both talk at once. Leo’s hand grips my right shoulder, and I reach around to throw it off.
I hold my throbbing head and breathe till I don’t feel like I’m going to hurl. Then I look at Alesso. “Where is Tony? What’s going on right now?”
“Nobody knows.” Alesso clenches his jaw. “Tony is out looking for him.”
“So he’s planning do it?” I laugh, and the sound is deranged. “This is crazy shit.” I turn around toward Leo again. “You two aren’t shitting me?”
“Your dad is a narc, dude,” Alesso assures me.
“That’s my fucking dad, motherfucker! Your brother kills him, you won’t like what’s coming.”
“Luca.”
“You two shut the fuck up!” Leo slams his fist on the console between our front seats. “Both of you! Shut the fuck up.”
“You shut up,” Alesso snarls. “It’s got nothing to do with you.”
“He better fucking not do it,” I yell. “You hear me, Alesso? You hear what I’m saying?”
“What choice does he have?”
“What choice does he have? Are you fucking serious? Stop the fucking car, Alesso.”
“I came to get you so we can try to help! Tony won’t kill me. Or you. Or Leo. Maybe we can help or something, I don’t know!”
“I wanted to kill him,” I murmur, picturing the way my shoulder slammed into the brick wall in the shoe store as my fucked-up father body-slammed me. My throat aches as I look at Alesso. “Go and tell your brother that.”
“I’m really sorry, Luca. If Tony finds him, I don’t think it’s gonna come out good.” Alesso’s jaw works, and for a second, I feel sorry for him. Half a second.
“Tony is a fuck up and a lunatic. He is not killing my dad. Where are they? What do you know about it? Tell me everything you fucking know.”
“I don’t know,” Alesso half moans. “I haven’t seen him, and the last thing he said is that he has to do it, Luca.”
“If he does it, he’ll get caught. You don’t think the FBI would know? Of course they will! That’ll be the end of your brother.”
“Just stop, Luca. Tony’s got the orders. It’s not his fault,” Leo says.
I grit my teeth so I don’t throttle him. “Who gave Tony the orders?”
“Some dude that’s right up underneath Roberto. They call him il diavolo.”
I roll my eyes. “The devil.” How original. “And what about Roberto? He was —” My stomach does a slow roll, followed by a nose-dive. “Jesus! Roberto came by last night.” Tears fill my eyes as the truth hits.
“Yeah, he gave your dad some notice. At least that’s what I heard. Told him if he tries to run, he’ll come take out your family. But that’s a lie, don’t worry. Tony wouldn’t do that shit. Nobody’s planning to.”
Little stars dance in my eyes. I slam my fist on the door. “Fuck! Where’s my mom and Soren!” I groan and rub my temple. “Fuck!”
“We took them to a hotel,” Leo says. “They’re safe.”
I can’t help the moan that comes from my throat. “Where’s my dad?”
“I don’t know,” Alesso says. “I told Tony we were gonna help you, keep you out of it.”
“I don’t want to be out! Goddammit! How could my dad do this!” I slap the dash so hard Alesso swerves.
“Whoa Luca!”
“I want to talk to Tony. I can talk to— Maybe I can talk to Arnoldi myself. You said he likes me. Maybe I can promise him something. Anything.”
I have maybe half a minute to consider what that might look like before Leo says, “I don’t think that’s how it works.” His voice is soft. Regretful.
I shake my head. “I’m going to talk to him.”
“You need to go to the hotel,” Alesso says. Be with your mom and Soren. Leo and me will see if there’s something we can do.”
I laugh darkly. Not a goddamn chance. “I want to know where Tony is, and where my dad is. I know you two know!”
Alesso’s eyes shift to the rearview mirror.
Leo leans forward again. “They’re going to that old ship-building place that used to be a warehouse and then got turned into a theater and stores. You know where I mean? Near the stock yard? Boarded-up place? Sorta like a warehouse.”
I nod, feeling dizzy.
“Luca, you can’t go in there,” Alesso says.
“Let us go and see what’s up,” Leo says. “We’ll sneak around and try to see.”
A thick swell of grief rises up from somewhere in my chest, but I shove it down.
“He can’t kill my dad.” My voice cracks, so I make it harder. “Tony is a stupid loser fuck. But I think that he wouldn’t really do it.” Fuck, my mind is racing. I feel sick.
“What did you tell my mom?” I ask no one in particular.
“Told her that your dad’s involved in some messed up shit and they need to leave the house. She didn’t say much. She was upset. I got them some food from the Wendy’s,” Leo tells me. “Since that’s the only burger Soren will eat.”
“Thank you,” I say numbly. “I’ll check on them, but I want you to come back and get me right after. I can sneak around, too. It’s my dad. I deserve to know. And…be there,” I add, making sure my voice sounds choked up.
“Whatever would help,” Alesso says smoothly. “I can try to talk to Tony. There has to be another way.”
I don’t know if he’s convincing himself, but he’s not convincing me.
“Yeah, there’s gotta be,” Leo says.
“I can’t believe I didn’t know.” I rub my temples, rub my forehead, hating myself, hating my dad more.
“You were graduating. Not your fault your dad’s a dumb shit.”
My throat aches as I start to tell Leo he’s not. Then I look down at myself and shut my eyes as I take a long breath.
“How’s your arm?” Alesso asks.
“It’s okay.”
“He’s been doing this shit for the FBI for at least two years,” he says quietly.
I want to scream at Aless, to jump out the door, rip my fucking hair out. Instead I close my eyes and lean my head against the headrest, prop my right hand underneath my left arm so it doesn’t hurt so much. I think of nothing. Just…nothing. Nothing’s what I know, what I can do, what I am. Everything is fucked now.
Before I know it, Alesso’s braking. We’re at the hotel.
“You can’t do shit about this,” Leo tells me. “It’s Arnoldi stuff. Don’t go crazy thinking you can do something to fix it, save the day. That’s how you do, but it won’t work this time.”
Fuck you, I want to tell him. I nod.
Alesso’s eyes hold mine. “I’ll find out some more for you, try to talk to Tony.” Something tightens in my chest—because I hear the bullshit in Alesso’s tone.
“Give me a call, please.”
He nods. “Try to stay chill, brother.”
I get carefully out of the car, feeling a hundred years old as I walk toward the lobby. A few minutes later, the black car I called is waiting by the curb.
In the cab, I have a feeling like it’s slipping through my fingers. All control. All…everything.
I’m heavy, fuzzy, floating… It’s like my body is offline. I can’t really move it. I’m stuck going where it goes.
I would never say it, not to anybody, but I know this feeling by its real name: dissociation.
I shift my arm around because that hurts. The pain, it helps me focus. Pain in my shoulder. Pain everywhere else. I focus on the window, framing the route to…whatever this is.
The idea that my father, a drunk who can barely put one foot in front of the other, who some days can’t even walk home from the shoe store unescorted, is someone the FBI would want to work with is…impossible to believe.
And I don’t. I can’t believe it’s true. Sometimes rumors get started, and Tony’s crazy. Who knows if he even “got an order” at all. Maybe he only told Alesso he did.
I try to recall what Roberto said when he passed me outside the shoe store. How it began. It was just some offhanded comment about me being at his house. Then he congratulated me on Columbia. Then…he told me to take care of Mom. Could he really have dropped by the store because…
Right after Dad dropped me, in those first few seconds when the pain was so bad, he’d been furious. Raging. “I’m dead because of you!” He’d screamed. “Because you had to go catch his attention!”
His cheeks were red, his eyes were redder, but his face was pale and afraid.
It’s not my fault, whatever he meant. None of this is my fault because Dad isn’t working with the FBI. Tony is crazy. That’s the only explanation. It’s gotta be some rumor gone wild. Dad blames me for everything; it’s his MO because he’s got problems. It doesn’t mean something is real. Fuck what Alesso said about my dad laundering money. I don’t believe a word of that shit.
I run a finger over the thin piece of white tape on my forehead, thinking of Elise. What fucking luck that this shit goes down when I’m so sore I can barely move, when all I want is to climb into a soft bed with her.
The cab stops by a curb, and my heartbeat throbs through my head. Fuck, I must not have kept track of where we were.
“This is it,” the guy says, drumming on the wheel.
I pay him and step onto the dark sidewalk. Everything looks old and busted, so I guess that makes it perfect for Tony’s imagined drama—if anyone is even here. Two junked out cars line the curbside up ahead and garbage litters the sidewalk. The building to my right is covered in low-quality graffiti. The next one down is boarded shut.
This is a waste of time. Probably nobody’s here and I’ll be walking blocks and blocks to get another cab—if I even can. Maybe I walk all the way home. I run the fingers of my free hand underneath the sling, touching my sore arm. It’s amazing how much the damn thing hurts and it’s not even what’s the problem. It’s all pain from my collarbone.
Which one of these derelicts has the old theater inside? I haven’t been down here in years, but I’m pretty sure it’s the one up ahead that’s made of dark-looking brick. I walk slowly, telling myself it’s all okay. If I feel kinda panicky it’s just because I’m so damn tired and those pa
in pills are long gone. They said at the ER that being hurt can make your heart beat faster.
You got this.
Quick look around, check it out, and I can go back to the hotel. Figure out what kind of weird shit Tony’s doing. Probably a bad idea, but I decide to pull the sling off, stuff it in my pocket. Down this way, it’s probably better if I don’t look like an easy target.
I try to walk like my arm’s not sore, keep an eye on what’s in front of me and an ear on what’s behind me. That’s when I hear it: ghosts of words, like people murmuring somewhere nearby. I lengthen my strides, my heart pounding as I make it to the tall, dark brick building.
There are windows in its front wall, but they’re not eye-level. They’re five feet above my head, a row of squares. A few yards down, there’s a dark, steel kind of door that’s got a piece of plywood hanging off it. I think of pushing through, and something buzzy starts up in me.
Nothing’s going down inside there. Even if it is, it’s not what Alesso and Leo said. Tony’s all bark, no bite. No way they’d tap him to kill Dad.
Still, I can’t just wait this shit out. I need to know what’s going on. Is my dad really in there? Probably not. I’m pretty damn sure…but I have to see.
I step closer to the front door, where there’s some old wood signs half falling off where they were mounted by the building’s entrance. I notice one is for a barber shop and feel like maybe I remember coming in here as a little kid. Beyond the brick façade, this place was like a really shitty, five-shop boutique mall. I think it smelled like dust and old stuff.
I step closer to the boarded-up door, try the handle. Despite the boards, when I tug, the thing swings right open.
Dust and old stuff. Fuck, and also mold and something smoky. I sniff. Squatters burning shit, I bet.
Something in my stomach coils. I tell myself I could go back to the hotel. Let these fools be fools. I’ve got a spot at Columbia. I told her dad I’d keep my nose clean.
There’s a shout, though—at that second. It’s not from right inside the door, but from deeper inside the building. Now I know there’s no turning back. I duck the hanging board over the door and step into what looks like a hovel. There’s a burned out mattress in one corner, a ripped up swivel chair beside it. Dark stains on the floor…. I note the small, peeling countertops and realize this is the old barber shop. I think of the old guy’s murdered wife and cross myself. It didn’t happen here, but something did.
