by Suzanne Hart
Then why are you so hung up on Mia? Why do you even care if she lives or dies? And what is it with you and Rich all of a sudden? You’re not in high school anymore, Slade. Let it go. Let it all go.
I started the car up, not even looking at the house for the last time. I crawled out of the quiet street, and back toward the Leone estate as the rumble of distant thunder reminded me that the fight hadn’t even started yet.
Twenty-Six
Mia
Ironically, the cheesy movie I had picked to watch was all about a young woman losing her virginity. I almost flicked over, but was dying for some sort of comparison, even if it was imaginary. With my position, for want of a better word, my status, I couldn’t just call up girlfriends I didn’t even have. And cutely giggle, ooh and aagh at the events which led up to, and included Jack de-flowering me. I had sent a note, though. I hoped that was okay.
I felt ready to do it all over again, but Jack had left. Solo action just didn’t have the same appeal right at that moment. I was secretly kicking myself for taking so long to discover the magic of a real dick inside me. Mucking around with the other girls at the schools I went to, then finding my own pleasures that fit in with my schedules, with me. I hadn’t even really considered the possibility of having a regular guy in my life.
Is Jack Slade that guy?
I got butterflies when I thought about him, about what he’d done to me. It didn’t look like it was like that for every girl, well, not according to B-grade chick flick it didn’t, anyway. I had heard other women and girls at business lunches, conventions, especially my own staff, saying how great the first time had been, but a lot had also just rolled their eyes. I felt special anyway, and I was hoping Jack did too.
The note was too much, Mia. The look on the guy’s face when you asked him to ‘deliver’ it should’ve told you.
Hugging a giant cushion, feeling full of lobster, I sighed a lot out loud, and through the movie. Then, once it had finished, I decided to explore the little house I was in some more. The little house I’d bought. The place was someone’s summer house, so there weren’t any personal effects in the place. I crept about, wondering how many people, how many families had been through the place. And who had lived there, who had died there. It was an ancient-looking place, full of character and a few questionable smells, but I loved it.
I could hear the beach through the open windows at the back of the house. The blue light of the night was rimmed with silver from a half moon that peeked out here and there from the swirling mass of gray clouds. The breeze was cool and insistent, sometimes threatening to pick up to a strong wind, or gale, but it was ebbing back, like the waves, with foaming white tops, charging at the shore then retreating back.
I was caught up in the melancholy of the moment, staring at the beach with a moon hung over it, lulled half asleep by the sound of the waves. The sudden appearance of the shape of a man ambling past the view, smoking, made me jump, then mutter a curse to myself.
I almost forgot, we are not alone!
The agent, realizing his intrusion mumbled an embarrassed, “Sorry, Ms. Leone,” before swiftly moving out of view.
I knew I was as safe as I could be, but I didn’t feel safe. Like after the time Jack and I had done it, I thought I would have felt better with the thought that if he was there, I’d feel safer. But it didn’t seem to matter. I liked him, and I was smitten with him, physically. Who wouldn’t be? But I wasn’t sure if he was capable of feelings for me, or for anyone.
I felt suddenly emotional... my papa, Mikey, Jack. They all began to well up inside me, all at once. I had so many other things I was responsible for, yet the main things that should have my affections were barely there for me, they hardly seemed to matter unless I willed them into my heart.
My father had always said he loved me, and I knew he did. But sending me away so young, hardly seeing me, unless it was in a very controlled environment, always on his own terms. Even when I called him at the house, I had to go through several other people before the phone was handed to him.
Mikey, my true double, my other self. Here, I stumbled most of all, emotionally. I felt such natural care and affection for him, as much as I did for myself. But, his constant thieving and total lack of moral or practical fiber in his adult life. He was a stranger to me, at best, if I was completely honest about it.
And now Jack. I had constructed this, this fantasy that he was a knight in shining armor who would be there to save me, to protect me; to give me everything I wanted and needed, even if he didn’t know what those things were. I didn’t even know what those things were anymore. I thought it would all just magically happen after we’d made love. For someone with a doctorate, I could be naïve a lot of the time. Especially when it came to matters of the heart.
I was only starting to begin to realize how deep my father’s world went, and how many people must have been hurt, frightened, or worse. And just to keep the life he maintained for the sake of his own honor, for the sake of his own family, who he barely knew in reality. His plan to fake his death had struck me as totally ludicrous when he’d first mentioned it. I thought he was joking. I had no idea he would have a need to do it, not just a desire to act it out.
The institute had been a brainchild of mine years before the fashion and couture had taken off. In school, I was mostly interested in chemistry, and how things worked biologically. I would spend the mornings designing dresses or shoes, then meet up with a chemist over lunch, or in their lab to talk about the latest developments in skincare. Stuff that actually worked, not just what was selling.
As the fashion label grew, it took all my time and energy, but I slowly managed to make space for the biology of our natural fashion, our skin. I invested heavily in a purpose-built institute, hiring the best of the best to work on exclusive and patented technology. It was when we released just some of the products the institute had developed, that things went glacial for Mia Bella. My head still spins when I think about it sometimes.
The chemists had been working with some biologists to develop new technology to repair skin for burns victims, people with deformities and the like. It was years ago, but for some reason, my father, of all people, had taken an interest in it when he saw something about it on a TV show. He wanted to know all about it. And so I set him up to meet with the institute, and that was that. I thought it would be the end of it.
Papa’s interest in the institute only grew, and I had no objections. He was looking better and so was I. Our technology was, and still is, the most advanced in the world. I had no idea he was planning, formulating his own body double to be used for him, if he was to fake his own death. I thought the gene mapping they’d done, the skin cultures which could be grown from a cast of someone’s face, were all just part of their research.
I tossed and turned all that night, hardly sleeping a wink, thinking about everything that had happened. When I did finally get to sleep, it was dawn. I ended up oversleeping. I had nowhere to be, not really, but sleeping in wasn’t something I was good at. I was a doer. I had to “do” stuff.
The previous night’s rehashing of the institute, the fake death, the body. It was all laid out for me once I flicked on the local network news, then on cable, then international. It was a worldwide cover story on Papa’s funeral. Open casket.
What the fuck?
I couldn’t get to a phone quick enough. I was trying to get Jack but it went straight to messages. I called the house, but only got some security that were about as much use as me sitting in a beach house in the keys. I was furious. I grabbed the radio handset. I wanted to speak to Giles. Now!
“Ah, negative, Ms. Leone. Agent ugh…Giles is unavailable. Do you need help?”
I needed a ride, a lift, a chopper, anything to get me to that funeral. It seemed though, like they’d left a moron in charge of security on the key.
My cell pulsed, it was Jack.
Finally!
I switched off the stupid radio handset and flung it
across the room. I couldn’t help staring at the face they had a close up of in the casket. It looked just like Papa. Why were they doing this? I felt myself starting to cry as I answered Jack.
“What the fuck, Jack! I switch on the news and there’s my father in a fucking open casket!?” I held back the tears, but I was nearly hysterical with rage, with disbelief. The line was silent. “Jack!?”
“Well, Mia. It is his funeral. I didn’t know it would be on the news though. We had a media blackout, but it’s a big cathedral, and well…well, I guess somebody found a way to get some shots of the open casket. It’s closed now. Mia?” I was stunned as I sat there, the phone hanging from my hand. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Why was Jack being so cold, so… so… such a dick?
“Mia, it’s not a good time to talk. I’ll call you once the ceremony is over, okay? Mia?” I hung up. I tossed the phone in the same direction as the radio. I switched off the TV, and I curled up with the same pillow I had cuddled the night before. I wanted to cry, to feel sorry for myself, but I instinctively started to plan other things.
I had gotten part way into an idea for a new line of black minis, with veils, when I heard a tapping at the glass of the French doors. It was Giles. He had a huge picnic basket with a large wooden box sticking out the top. His infectious smile and over the top wave made me forget about myself for a split second. I got up off the softness of the couch and padded across the seagrass matting to open the door.
I put one arm up, blocking the entrance. I was still pretty mad, but it was hard to be mad --or stay mad at Giles for long. His look told me he knew what I was thinking, or at least, how pissed I was.
“I’m not sure I wanna buy whatever it is you’re selling, Giles.” I was trying to be funny, but the hurt was written all over my face.
“Mia, honey. Men are pigs. I brought us some fat-filled breakfast… and a present to cheer you up. I’m a lot of things, Mia, but I can be your friend too, if you let me.” Giles was good, very good at what he did, whether it was real or not, who knew. It had me fooled in a second and I felt a wave of relief come over me as he bustled in with the giant wicker hamper, complete with white and red checked fabric.
“Y’know Giles --if that’s even your real name.” I grinned. “I should hire you. Oh wait, I already did!” We both laughed as he unpacked the hamper onto the kitchen table.
I couldn’t help but feel that he was doing everything out of sheer pity, as well as keeping me in the house, on the key. But, I let the fantasy run. It was better, and more appetizing than the reality of it all.
Twenty-Seven
Jack
After nearly running off the road in the early hours, I decided to grab some sleep, an hour, at a truck stop. I had to make sure I got to the Leone funeral in one piece. It felt like days since I’d seen my bed and had a regular sleep. When I thought more on that, it had been. I looked the part as well. It was time to freshen up a little.
The truck stop had a surprising array of items for upwardly mobile men living out of cars in the middle of the night. I managed a new shirt and a shave/wash in the men’s room. Not too shabby for eighteen bucks. Some coffee and what passed as breakfast happened, and I was good to go.
The faint gray of dawn was visible over the skyline as I made my way to Mia Bella before heading to the cathedral. I had to see Don Leone. The real --not dead, Don Leone. The elevator went up so far, then it was all stairwell until the penthouse floor, which was now blocked off, save for a single steel door. A camera and intercom saw me admitted. Don Leone had few personnel now, it was just him and Brown when I saw him. Rollins would come by after the funeral, making sure his health was on the up. It was odd, but since Don Leone had died, he’d never looked better.
It had become clear that the recently departed Doctor Cartwright had been making Don Leone sick, and keeping him that way for months. I thought I wanted to, and that Don Leone wanted me to get to the bottom of the whole thing. The whole thing with the doctor, his lawyers and the issues regarding the family estate. On that day though, he was happy enough to just sit with me for a time, asking about Mia and telling me a few stories I’d heard a hundred times about how things used to be in the ‘good old days.’
Brown had looked itchy, with a touch of cabin fever. I told him to go and stretch his legs, which he rushed to do. Don Leone was great company, but in small doses. And plus Brown had a huge responsibility, being accountable for him all on his own for the time being. I had counted on the secrecy, security of the building; and the fact that nobody would think that Don Leone was alive, let alone staying in his daughter’s apartment. These were factors that would keep him safe from prying eyes. It was working... so far.
Yes, so far so good. But there are still so many questions that need answering.
Don Leone wanted to know about the funeral details, he was even talking about putting on a wig and pretending to be a mourner at one point. I thought he was joking, but scarily enough, he wasn’t.
Mia’s new friends, whoever they were, had arranged to have a large presence at the funeral. And as far as we knew, they believed that Don Leone was dead, and so did the FBI. They wanted to see who turned up, who looked happy about it, and who looked guilty, that sort of thing. I thought they might be a government agency, but if they were, it was so top secret that nobody knew about them.
Don Leone wanted to talk about Mia; I wanted to talk about how the family was going to take his current position and how it could move forward, safely and effectively. Mia won out, and every time he mentioned her, a wistful look came into his eye and he raised an eyebrow, urging me to keep thinking about her. I didn’t not want to talk about her; I just didn’t want to be thinking about her while speaking with her father. Don Leone was too smart though. He was the quintessential Italian dad.
“If Mia’s mother were alive…” he kept saying, wagging his finger at me, smiling.
I could only pretend not to understand, trying to bring the conversation back to more important matters, but I think Don Leone could see there was a gap in my life, in my heart. It was hard to believe we were preparing for a funeral. Don Leone’s antics were scaring me more than any gunfight ever had.
It wasn’t the time to talk business. Don Leone was still discovering the joys of not being so sick and bedridden. We talked though, just about other things, and I sat with him long enough for Brown to have his break, to feel human again. Then, making sure Don Leone had everything he needed, I made my way out and down the stairs again. The morning crowds were swelling with the streets backed up with traffic, the whole downtown district was feeling the bite of roadblocks and bottleneck traffic. Don Leone would’ve been happy to know he had held up the entire downtown district.
I could tell at a glance that trying to drive myself to the cathedral was a dumb idea. As soon as I had the thought I heard the honking of a horn, then turned to see a dark car with the passenger window scrolling down. It was Agent Gull.
“Need a ride?” He was half-grinning, half snarling. I shrugged and got in. It sure beat trying to make my own way to the cathedral.
Gull was in an unmarked car, but used his light and siren to clear traffic and got through all the roadblocks, getting me to the service venue in great time. Along the short trip, he had obviously wanted to pick my brains about a few things.
“So, you really have no idea about Agent, uh… Mr. Black’s whereabouts?” His mirrored shades reflected the streetscape back at me, as if the whole world was disappearing into Gull’s eyes, but he still didn’t know the answers to his own questions. I wasn’t offering much, other than polite ignorance.
“I wish I could be of more help, Agent Gull, I really do. I hope you can understand though, my employer has just passed away; and I have the grieving Leone family, as well as my own emotions to grapple with right now.”
Gull sucked air between his teeth, then narrowed his mouth as he spoke softly. “What were you doing at the Mia Bella building just now, Mr. Slade?” His tone remin
ded me of one of those snake charmers, wowing people with the act. But if you’d seen it before, or knew how it was done, it wasn’t very interesting. Gull wasn’t much of a charmer either.
“A small family matter, just some paperwork to drop off. Mr. Leone’s lawyers will be by at some point after the service to begin collating his business interests in the company, in line with his last will and testament.” I was trying to sound casual, but I couldn’t help but add some sarcasm to the mix. Gull was next on my list of things to kill, so I didn’t really mind what he said, or what he thought he might have on me.
Gull pushed some more hot air out of his nostrils. I could see his hands gripping the wheel a little harder. He was trying to control himself, but not doing a good job of hiding his annoyance.
“How about Rich Little, Mr. Slade? Have you seen or heard from him?” I sat silently for a moment, was going to speak, but changed my mind.
Sitting in silence the rest of the way, I was glad to get to the cathedral, to start to survey the scene and check on the security for the event. Gull was eager to remind me that he hadn’t finished with me just yet. “I can get a warrant, Mr. Slade, but I’d prefer it if you came to my office after the service. Just for a chat, nothing else.” He was trying the casual, friendly approach.
“I’ll see how I go for time, Agent Gull. I have a pretty full dance card today.” I smiled as best I could, thanked him for the ride, then disappeared into the throng of people who had surrounded the cathedral. I had to find a familiar face before even I could get in. I had no idea who half of those people were.
Note to self: When Leone does bite it, let someone else handle all the arrangements.
My part had pretty much been done though, the finer details were left to the family and to Don Leone’s brother. Lucias had taken command of the proceedings, reminding anyone he could, at every opportunity, that he had the check and that he was in charge. I reminded myself to let Mia know to cancel the check. We could arrange payment some other way. If Lucias Leone was anything like his reputation, he would be gone along with any money, before the lid had been closed on his brother’s coffin.
