The Promise

by Kristen Ashley

  “Anyway, Frankie, I do hair. It’s not hard to find a job doin’ hair,” she’d told me. “And my clients are all dyin’ to have me back. I mean, I didn’t wanna go back to work so soon but…whatever. And my mom will watch Eva. Mom wasn’t a big fan of Enzo’s, but she adores Eva. It’s cool you called to check in, but it’ll all be okay.”

  Eva, by the way, was Domino. Dad had gotten to the birth certificate first and named her the name he wanted. A name Chrissy had told him, in a way she told me could not be misconstrued, that there was no way in hell she was naming her daughter Domino.

  This was not the beginning of the end of them, but it definitely (and not surprisingly) was a factor.

  My baby sister’s middle name was Eva, which was what Chrissy called her and wanted everyone else to call her.

  Eva was very pretty, but weirdly, I’d become partial to Minnie.

  I didn’t tell Chrissy this.

  I just silently marveled at her togetherness as I told her I was there for her as best I could be while I lived in the ’burg, but I’d be around more to help out when I was back in Chicago.

  She’d thanked me, told me to come around and meet Eva when I was home again, and promised to send me pictures of my new sister. After we hung up, she made good on that promise in about a nanosecond by texting me fifteen of them.

  Fifteen.

  Eva was adorable.

  Even Benny thought so.

  The easy one down, the hard one to go.

  And at my sister’s greeting, I realized I should have fortified myself with another donut (or two) before I got to the hard stuff.

  “Nat—” I began but was cut off.

  “Got enough shit swirlin’ around me, don’t need yours.”

  “Please, listen to me.”

  “He hit me,” she snapped.

  I had to admit, I didn’t like this, even as I had to admit in knowing Nat that she probably gave him no choice.

  Needing a dose of him, I looked across the counter to where Benny was lounging on the couch, feet up on my coffee table, TV on, and tuned to a game, but his eyes were on me.

  And this time, I felt soothed.

  “Cat told me you clocked him with a plate,” I said to Nat.

  “It wasn’t a plate. It was a vase. And he deserved that shit.”

  God. My sister.

  I shook my head and looked down to the counter, asking, “He deserved that because you cheated on him and he’s finally done with you?”

  “Okay, which part of me not needin’ your shit did you not understand?” she asked sharply.

  “Has it occurred to you you’re cuttin’ me off from discussin’ this with you because you don’t want me holdin’ that mirror up to your face?”

  “And what is it, oh wise Frankie, that you think you’re gonna make me see?” she returned snottily.

  I was used to Nat’s snotty and I’d learned to ignore it, give it back, or get in there another way.

  This was important enough for me to find another way.

  So when I replied, I did it quietly.

  “The image of a woman who’s in love with a man she’s done wrong.”

  Nat said nothing.

  I kept going.

  “Davey’s a good man and he loves you. He does not deserve this, Nat. And as fucked up as it was how we were brought up, I know deep down somewhere inside you, you know at least that.”

  “So he can hit me?” she asked.

  “Did he haul off and do that to hurt you, or did he do it because he had no choice?”

  “Does it matter?”

  “Well, if you live in black-and-white, no. It doesn’t matter. But if you hit him in the head with a vase and gave him a concussion, then didn’t let up on him and you’d lost it like I know you can lose it so he did it in self-defense, that’s pretty gray. So, no. He can’t hit you. But if you’re whalin’ on him and he’s got no choice but to take it and further damage or get physical to get you off him, it sucks to say it, but he can.”

  My sister had no reply.

  So I pushed, “Did he have a choice?”

  She remained silent.

  “Natalia, did he have a choice?”

  “I never thought Davey would hit me.”

  I went still at her words and the way she said them. All but my head, which I lifted, my eyes flying to Benny, who was still watching me.

  I could tell by her voice that she was hurt, probably not physically, but emotionally.

  Nat didn’t show a lot of emotion. She was Ninette times a thousand. The only thing she wanted was whatever she wanted and nothing dragging on that. That didn’t mean she didn’t have emotion. It just meant she’d learned a long time ago not to show it.

  I felt for my sister. This was her consequence for being selfish and stupid, but I knew she loved Davey in her way. And being Nat, tied up in herself and only that, it would take a miracle to get her to see beyond that and to her part in this fucked-up scenario.

  I had to force my lips to move when I said, “Nat, honey, please, please, listen. Cat and Art have cleaned up. They’ve been sober for a long time. They’ve been workin’ with a marriage counselor to get strong before they make a baby. I have Benny and I’m happy. He’s good to me and he’s good for me. I learned not to look for Dad, and Cat learned not to act like Mom. We’re both happy. Now you need to learn from that. Sort yourself out. This is not okay what you’ve been doin’ to Davey. And this is really not okay, what happened with Davey last night.”

  “No matter what you say, Frankie, there’s no excuse for your man hittin’ you.”

  “Is there one for a man’s woman hittin’ him?” I shot back.

  She didn’t reply.

  “Okay, I know you know the answer to that is a big fat no. So now, tell me this: Is it okay for a man’s wife to keep fuckin’ around on him?” I asked.

  “This is you givin’ me shit, Frankie,” she returned.

  “This is shit you need, Nat,” I replied.

  “No, ’cause see, I got his fuckin’ mother up in my shit and Ninette’s up in her shit and the phone won’t stop fuckin’ ringin’. I gotta work tonight and I don’t need more hassle. You’re hassle. So you’re wrong. I don’t need your shit because my life is pretty fuckin’ shit right now and I’m not lettin’ you make it more.”

  I opened my mouth to speak, but the dead I got over the phone couldn’t be anything other than her hanging up on me.

  Still, I called, “Nat?” But I got nothing.

  I closed my eyes, took the phone from my ear, and saw the call had ended.

  I looked back at Benny. “She hung up on me.”

  “The wrong answer to say is ‘good,’ but that’s the only one I got, babe.”

  “I don’t know what to do next,” I told him.

  “Nothin’,” he told me. “You tried. You gave her good wisdom, Francesca. The shit you said was right on the money. She didn’t listen. You did what you could do, but she wants to wallow in her shit. The hard part starts for you now ’cause you gotta let her.”

  “Ninette is livin’ with her and that’s not gonna make anything better,” I reminded him.

  “Another consequence. She let her ma in, she deals.”

  “Maybe I should call Ma and—”

  Benny interrupted me, clipping out, “Do not even think about it.”

  I shut my mouth. Apparently, Ninette was where Benny drew the line at my family “slicin’ into me.”

  “Come here,” he ordered.

  “I need a donut.”

  “Right. Get you one. Get me one. Then get your ass over here.”

  I was standing in the kitchen in my heels, something I’d been doing awhile so I needed a break. This was the only reason I didn’t give him lip. Instead, I grabbed the baker’s box and walked into the living room.

  Ben took the box from me, tossed it on the coffee table, and Gus honed in on it immediately. Fortunately, he was too tiny and klutzy to jump up and get a donut (or the whole box). Unfor
tunately, he didn’t give up. I didn’t want him to hurt himself so I leaned over Benny’s legs to grab hold of him.

  I got my hands on Gus just as Ben got his hands on me. I pulled Gus to my chest. Benny pulled my ass onto his lap.

  Gus licked my jaw, then threw himself at Benny.

  Ben took hold of the dog in one arm, kept hold of his woman in the other, and caught my eyes.

  “Chrissy and Eva are okay. Your little sister doesn’t have a ridiculous name, icing on the cake. Your other sister is a whackjob, no surprise. So, with Eva bein’ called Eva, you’re not battin’ five hundred in this mess. I’m thinking seven fifty. Not bad.”

  I lifted a hand to scratch Gus’s booty and settled further in Benny’s lap, noting, “Eva being Eva is definitely a silver lining.”

  Gus threw himself on the couch, then plopped side-first into a toss pillow and started cleaning himself. Benny wrapped both arms around me and drew me nearer.

  “You gonna call your dad?” he asked.

  “And say what? You’re a douchebag?” I asked back.

  Ben smiled.

  I shook my head and gave him the real answer, “No. I have nothing to say to him, and even if I did, he’s less prone to listen to me than Nat was. Doesn’t matter anyway. Chrissy’s a fighter. If he doesn’t do right by Eva financially, she’ll see he does.”

  His arms gave me a squeeze. “That’s my Frankie.”

  I had no reply because I was his Frankie, and anyway, I was enjoying his words and his arm squeeze enough it took all my attention.

  “So, you’re done dealin’ with your whackjob family?” he asked.

  I grinned. “I’m done dealin’ with my whackjob family…” I paused, then finished on a warning he already knew, “Today.”

  That got another smile from Benny, before, “Right. Next up, choices: watch the game or make out on the couch, then watch the game.”

  No choice, really.

  I got closer, wrapping my arms around his shoulders. “Make out on the couch, then watch the game.”

  His eyes dropped to my mouth and he muttered, “I like the way you think.”

  It was my turn to smile.

  Ben slid a hand up in my hair and pulled my mouth to his.

  Then he twisted and moved so my back was to the couch, he was on me, and his tongue was in my mouth.

  I heard my phone start ringing.

  Neither of us broke the kiss. We both ignored it.

  Some time later, after making out and then watching the game, I went into the kitchen to make my man and myself a sandwich for lunch.

  Before doing this, I checked my voicemail.

  When I did, I learned the joyous news that my sister was having a baby.

  Fucking finally.

  I brought our sandwiches into the living room and enjoyed Ben’s grin when I hauled out seven bags of chips, along with some beers and a jar of pickles. Then I called Cat to celebrate and give her the lowdown on the whackjobs in our family. I then told her I was done, she wasn’t wading in, and from here on out, they had to sort their own shit.

  Her response:

  “Fucking finally.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Christmas Card List

  The next morning, Benny’s phone ringing woke me and I knew it woke him when I heard him mutter, “Fuck.”

  This made me smile as I was prone to smile any day I woke up next to Benny, even if he woke cursing. I felt his heat go from my back where he was spooning me. I turned with him, opening my eyes, and saw him reaching toward the nightstand to get his phone.

  He got up on a forearm on the bed, put the phone to his ear, and greeted with a “Benny.”

  He listened for a few seconds before he twisted his neck, his eyes coming to me, and my stomach clutched at the look in them. Then he pulled himself up to rest his back against the headboard, took the phone from his ear, hit a button on the screen, and a very attractive deep male voice came from it.

  “…investigating,” the voice said. “I understand from our former clients you have copies of what they’ve uncovered and it’s their understanding it would be safer for you to pass that on to us. I’d like to ask you to go to a restaurant called Frank’s on Main Street in Brownsburg sometime today. A man named Herb will be there. You can give him the flash drives. I’ve got a man en route to Brownsburg. He’ll meet up with Herb and get the drives. We’ll take it from there.”

  The voice quit talking and Ben said toward the phone, “Bud, no offense, but I do not know you. You’re a voice on the phone callin’ early on a Sunday with no warning. So I’m not givin’ anythin’ to some random guy at a restaurant.”

  “I was told that you’ve been informed our services were engaged,” the voice replied.

  Oh my God.

  Was this the Nightingale guy?

  My eyes flew to Benny and I saw his were on his phone.

  “Listen,” he said. “Again, I do not know you so I’m not sayin’ dick about anything.”

  “You can look us up on the Internet,” the voice replied. “Like I said, I’m Lee Nightingale. I own Nightingale Investigations. The man I’m sending is Luke Stark. He’ll be there this afternoon. We want the drives prior to his arrival so we can sort through them and set him on task without delay.”

  “If you do what you do for a living and you know what’s goin’ down with this and you had your woman on the inside, would you take a phone call from a guy you don’t know and do what he tells you to do?”

  There was a moment’s hesitation, then, “I see your point. Look us up on the Internet. You got an email address, give it to me. I’ll send you one and it’ll have our domain in the address.”

  “Not sure that makes me feel better,” Benny stated, not knowing anything about email or that it would be quite the task to register and use a domain name just to pull one over on an unsuspecting, protective, Italian hot guy first thing on a Sunday morning.

  “Then I’ll give you this to make you feel better,” Lee Nightingale returned. “We started investigating this and our clients ran out of funds. We did not like what we found so we didn’t stop investigating, even after they could no longer pay for our services. We undoubtedly have more than you, perhaps enough to lay this shit open and stop a bad drug from hittin’ the market. You got the evidence to tie that bow, we’d be obliged. More so if we could quit dickin’ around, get it, and sort it before any more hits are called. And last, do all this before Salvatore Giglia and his goons get more involved and make this mess messier and possibly take indictments off the table due to mob involvement.”

  At that, I gasped quietly and Benny looked at me.

  Nightingale knew about Sal.

  When Ben caught my eyes, I said, “Maybe we should meet this Herb guy at Frank’s.”

  “Is that Francesca Concetti?” Nightingale asked.

  I looked to the phone. “Yeah.”

  “You’re off assignment,” he stated instantly (and bossily). “So is everyone else. Giglia’s men took care of the hired gun on Furlock. Now you can call Giglia off. Get the drives to Herb. Tomorrow, go in. Work. We’ve got it from here.”

  Excuse me?

  Some random guy on the phone “has it from here?”

  I leaned toward Benny’s cell and snapped, “There are a lot of people who’ve stuck their necks out for a long time who have a lot riding on this.”

  “Frankie,” Ben murmured.

  “They can quit stickin’ their necks out,” Nightingale returned.

  “And that’s a good thing,” Benny put in.

  I turned my eyes to him to see his on me and I glared.

  He turned his gaze to his phone at the same time he brought it closer to his face (and further away from mine). “We’ll look you up. Send an email. In it, write something that only your clients will know. We’ll confirm that information with the clients, and if it jives, we’ll meet this Herb guy at Frank’s at one o’clock. We’re keepin’ copies of the drives. And we want direct lines to you and this
Stark guy so we can stay informed about how shit is goin’, and by that, I don’t mean email.”

  “Luke doesn’t do email,” Nightingale muttered, and I saw Ben give me a smug look so I rolled my eyes. “This is my personal cell,” he continued. “Text me your email address. We’ll confirm with Herb that he’s meeting you at Frank’s.”

  “Right,” Ben said.

  “And, heads up, Herb is…” Nightingale started, paused, and went on, “Unusual.”

  I felt Ben tense as he asked, “Unusual how?”

  “He’s not young. He’s not tall. He has red hair. He’s loud. He’s likely to say something inappropriate. And he’s very much from Indiana.”

  “What does that mean?” I asked.

  “That means don’t wear red because he’s from a Purdue family,” Nightingale answered.

  I’d been living in Indiana less than a year, and still, I totally knew what this meant.

  “Red’s out,” I murmured.

  “We good?” Ben asked Nightingale.

  “Yeah,” Nightingale replied. “Text the email. We’ll get you Luke’s information and you and your woman can stand down.”

  Benny was not tense at that. I could tell by his face he was cautiously relieved.

  “I’ll talk to Sal and do the hand-off,” Ben told him.

  “Right. Thanks. This’ll be over soon.”

  “Fuckin’ hope so,” Ben muttered.

  “It will,” Nightingale’s deep, attractive voice said, and it did this so firmly, I believed him.

  “Right,” Benny said. “Later.”

  “Later,” Nightingale replied, and Benny touched the button to end the call.

  He then touched more buttons, asking, “What’s your email?” I gave him my email address and his thumb moved over his screen. He must have hit send because he looked to me. “Fire up your laptop, cara.”

  My eyes got squinty at the order. “Can I have a good-morning kiss first?”

  “You can have a good-morning fuck—a long one, a happy one, a celebratory one—if we can pass this shit off to some PI from fuckin’ Colorado, get Sal out of it so he won’t demand we name our first son after him, and concentrate on you either gettin’ the go-ahead to work from Chicago or findin’ a job in Chicago so I can get home and take my baby with me.” He leaned toward me in order to finish, “All of this requiring you to fire up your laptop.”