John + Siena: The Complete Duet

by Bethany-Kris

  It was driving him crazy.

  John wanted to fix shit with Lucia, but he couldn’t do that when she wouldn’t even let him speak to her. Apparently, his sister was not messing around when she had told him after Christmas that she planned to have nothing to do with the rest of them.

  Fuck.

  “Call me, Lucia,” John barked into the message when the phone beeped.

  He shoved the phone in his pocket, and got out of the car. Staring at the warehouse across the road, he tried to relax a bit before he had to do business. He didn’t need to go in there already in a bad mood.

  “What, you’re going to act like I’m not fucking standing right here or something?”

  “That’s exactly what I plan on doing, Andino.”

  To make his point clear, John slammed the door of his Mercedes shut, and crossed the street without as much as a wave at Andino. Grumbling something under his breath, Andino pushed off his own car, and headed after John.

  “Wait a second, man.”

  “I have fuck all to say to you.”

  “Listen, I came all the way down to this part of the city to talk to you today, John. The least you could do is fucking listen to me for five minutes.”

  “No, the least I could do is what I am doing. Ignoring you, and not beat you into the ground for the shit you pulled on me.”

  “Hey—”

  “And how the fuck did you know I was going to be here today, anyway?” John asked.

  He never turned around.

  Andino’s footsteps kept following behind.

  “Kev and Darren Calabrese do the same shit every month. Today is the day the crews get together with the Capos, and everything gets worked out for the next couple of weeks. I figured since you kept letting my calls go to voicemail, I might as well come here.”

  “Maybe you should have taken that as a goddamn hint.”

  And left him the hell alone.

  John wasn’t asking for a whole lot.

  A little over a week after the men of his family cornered him—or that’s how it felt—and John was still not over it. In fact, he felt worse about it than he had that morning.

  They didn’t trust him.

  Not to get shit done.

  Not to make the right choices.

  Nothing.

  To put the icing on that cake, they had to try and dictate his fucking romantic life like it was any of their goddamn business. It wasn’t. He wouldn’t allow them to think it was, either. That shit was never going to be on the table for them to meddle in.

  Ever.

  “Are you going to slow down and talk to me?” Andino asked.

  “My legs are still moving. A lot like your dumbass mouth. Take the hint.”

  “Come on, let me explain, John.”

  The warehouse where he had to meet up with the Calabrese brothers was all but twenty feet away. If he picked up his pace, he could be inside and working in a few minutes. Andino’s little show would be over and done with.

  John couldn’t do that.

  Andino’s words hit a damn nerve.

  Spinning on his heel, John took one huge step forward, and came toe-to-toe with Andino. His cousin had a good thirty pounds of muscle on him, but they stood damn near eye level with one another. It wouldn’t be the first time the two of them went to blows over something.

  He wasn’t scared of Andino.

  Andino wasn’t frightened of him.

  It was a bad combination.

  “Say that again,” John urged, his tone dipping low.

  “What, that you should let me fucking explain what happened?”

  “Yeah, man. Go on, tell me how you sold out my personal business to our fathers and Dante like you had any business doing so in the first place. Tell me how you not only put Siena in my path by inviting her to a club, but then went behind my back and told them I was involved with her, too. That’s fucking shady, Andino.”

  John hit his cousin in the chest with a closed fist. Not hard, but firm enough that it made his point loud and clear. “Fucking. Shady.”

  “Get your hand off my body before I break it.”

  “You could try.”

  Andino’s jaw clenched, and his green eyes darkened with anger.

  Good.

  He should be angry. Just like John was.

  “It doesn’t feel really fucking great when your family does shitty things to you, huh?” John asked.

  “I didn’t do what you think I did, John!”

  John pushed his fist against Andino’s chest again. “Fuck you. Thanks for the lesson, man. I needed it.”

  “What—”

  “This conversation is over, Andi.”

  With that, John turned around and headed in the direction of the warehouse’s entrance. Andino should have left it alone, but like the stubborn shit he was, he came after John. His cousin grabbed the back of his jacket, and pulled.

  “John, you’re going to talk to me!”

  John spun around once more, and didn’t even think about his next actions. He shoved Andino hard enough to send his cousin stumbling back.

  Andino righted himself, and glared at John. He made a move like he was going to come forward at John, but didn’t in the end. The two of them were left standing with ridged postures waiting for the other one to make a move.

  “That’s what you want to do?” Andino asked.

  “No, man,” John said, “but I will if you don’t fuck off. I warned you, so figure it out before you force my hand here.”

  “I just want to explain.”

  “Your actions told me more than enough, Andino.”

  “John, we’re Marcellos. The only people we have to trust in this life is each other. So fuck off with your mood, and give me a chance to tell you how this really went down. Give me that respect—don’t you at least owe me that after everything?”

  They’d been friends since Andino was born. His cousin always had his back, no matter what. Andino saved John from himself more times than he could count.

  This still left a bad taste in John’s mouth.

  “When you were selling me out to Dante about Siena, did you think to mention that chick you’re fucking behind everybody’s backs?” John asked.

  Andino stiffened, and his gaze hardened. “Excuse me?”

  “Haven—right? That’s her name. You think I don’t know about her?” John smirked and nodded, saying, “Yeah, I heard you were seeing somebody they didn’t approve of given your new position and all. Unlike you, I didn’t go digging in your business, or mention that you were still running around with her despite the fact you’re putting on a good show for them.”

  “You don’t know anything about that, or her, John.”

  “I know enough to make it hurt.” John pointed a finger at his cousin. “When, or if, I am ready to speak to you, then I will do that. Not one fucking second before. Get that through your thick skull, Andino. I decide when to see you, not the other way around.”

  “All right,” Andino said.

  “Good.”

  “One other thing, though.”

  John had all he could do not to punch Andino right in the throat. “What now?”

  “You’re ignoring your therapist appointments. Why?”

  All over, John felt like someone had dumped ice cold water on him. “I beg your goddamn pardon?”

  “You heard what I said.”

  “How in the fuck do you even know that?”

  Andino glanced away, and shrugged. “I got a friend in with your parole officer. You miss an appointment, and the therapist has to report it. You miss three, and the parole officer has to write you up on it. What, are you trying to get your parole revoked, so you can go back in? Is that what it is?”

  Again, someone was checking on his business. Again, someone was trying to stick their fucking nose where it didn’t belong regarding John.

  Again, he was shown how little faith they had in him.

  “You know you have to go to those appointments, and
not just for parole, either,” Andino said. “I’m only trying to look out for—”

  “Look out for yourself, and keep me out of it. You make me tell you that again, Andino, and we’re going to have another incident like we did years ago. Only this time, I’ll fucking finish it for good.”

  John didn’t wait for his cousin to reply. He turned fast, and headed for the warehouse. This time, Andino didn’t follow behind.

  Inside the large building, John found the Calabrese brothers were already waiting for him. None of the crews from either organization had arrived yet, but he expected that. They showed up early to figure out any last minute details in private.

  Kev and Darren Calabrese both sat on a table side by side in the middle of the warehouse.

  “You two got nothing to do, or what?” John asked.

  Kev shoved off the table with a chuckle. “Waiting on you, man.”

  “Sure, sure.”

  Darren ticked his chin up at John, asking, “Was that Andino I saw out there?”

  John hesitated, and wondered just how much the Calabrese brothers had seen of his conversation with Andino. “Maybe. What about it?”

  “Curious,” Darren said.

  “Curiosity kills men,” John replied.

  He headed for the corner where a white van had been parked. Inside the van would be some of the shit that needed to be dispersed between the foot soldiers of the three men’s crews. Maybe if he got his hands busy with work, he could focus on other shit.

  “Is that a thing for you, or something?” Kev asked.

  John climbed in the back of the van, and wanted nothing more than to just get this work done. He had energy to burn. He was sleeping erratically, and very little when he did actually close his eyes.

  “Is what a thing?” John asked.

  He tore open boxes, and pulled out wrapped bricks of drugs. Weed, cocaine, meth, and more. A lot of pharmaceuticals. All hidden and packed in paper hay.

  “Them babysitting you,” Kev said, leaning into the back of the van. “Sending someone to check in on your business, and making sure everything is on the up. What, you can’t handle your own shit, or something?”

  All of John’s irritations and misgivings about his family and how they treated him were being reflected in Kev’s statements. A man who didn’t know John, the shit he dealt with on a daily basis because of his disorder, or how that made his family treat him differently.

  Yet, they could see it.

  Kev saw how John was the weak link to the Marcellos.

  Or, that’s how it felt.

  “I handle my shit,” John said.

  “Yeah, but do they really let you?”

  “Or do they just make it seem like they’re letting you?” Darren asked, leaning in beside his brother.

  John shot the two men a look, and hated how unease and distrust burrowed into his nerves even more. Not for these men—he didn’t give a fuck about the Calabrese idiots. No, for his own blood; for his own family.

  The things they were doing made him unsteady. In his heart, and in his life. It made for shitty days, and bad moods.

  It screwed up his mind.

  It messed with his emotions.

  It fucked him up.

  “I handle myself just fine,” John said.

  He wanted to get Kev and Darren off the topic of him and his family.

  “Yeah, I mean,” Kev said, “that’s obvious, John.”

  “Except not to your people, I guess,” Darren added. “Do you get what I’m saying, Marcello?”

  Did he?

  That was the million-dollar question.

  “Johnathan?”

  John cursed under his breath at the sound of his mother calling out for him. Still, he kept his attention focused on his tasks. Things he wanted to get done—it kept piling up, but he just worked through it, regardless.

  The cupboards were stacked high with everything inside of them. Bowls he had placed by size. Glass and silverware that he wanted to change from one cupboard to another. The food from the pantry that needed to be reorganized because why in the hell had there been boxes with cans? And on the same fucking shelf.

  It drove him nuts.

  Nonsense.

  He’d already ran through his office upstairs, took a five-mile run that morning, and reorganized his collection of movies and music from alphabetical to most liked through the most disliked.

  And it was only …

  John shot a look at the clock.

  Ten in the morning.

  It probably helped that he had enough energy to burn that sleep wasn’t even a bother at the moment. An hour felt like three, and two hours of sleep felt like a whole night’s worth.

  His thoughts were scattered and erratic. Something he hated because he preferred a calm mind to one full of chaos. Unless he was focusing his attention on doing something—cleaning, working out, or working—then he couldn’t get his thoughts to chill.

  Siena, too.

  His thoughts calmed when he put his focus on her.

  “John, what are you doing?”

  He found his mother standing in the kitchen entryway. Jordyn Marcello looked over the mess John had made with a carefully guarded eye, and a relaxed posture. John knew that look from his mother—it meant she was concerned about him.

  “What does it look like?” John asked, wiping down the inside of another cupboard. “Cleaning and fixing shit.”

  “Is this all you’ve done today?” his mother asked.

  “No, but it’s the last thing I’m doing in this house today.”

  Jordyn took a couple of steps into the kitchen, and continued her perusal of the items scattered everywhere. She didn’t reach out to touch anything, which John appreciated. He didn’t want to fucking bark at his mother, but he didn’t want her bothering things, either.

  “You don’t have to work today?” Jordyn asked.

  Her tone came out calm and smooth. He recognized that, too. His mother only used that tone when she was trying to get something out of him, or needed to relax him.

  John’s defensive walls shot up—he didn’t know what his mother was pulling. “I work, Ma.”

  Jordyn gave him a smile. “I meant, you didn’t have anywhere to be today?”

  “Yeah, later.”

  John offered nothing else, and Jordyn didn’t press for more. Instead, she stood there rubbing her hands together while her gaze drifted between him and the mess.

  He didn’t have to be anywhere until after lunch. He had some drop-offs to make for business—people needed their drugs to sell, after all.

  John didn’t trust anybody to handle substance. He had to be the one to pass it off, and that way, he knew nobody was stealing from him.

  “It smelled very clean in the hallway,” Jordyn noted.

  “So?”

  Was it a problem that cleaning helped him to focus?

  That keeping busy was a must?

  That moving let him fucking breathe?

  Jordyn just stared at her son. “When did you get up this morning, John?”

  “What?”

  “Just curious. The sunrise was nice,” she added with a little shrug. “I wondered if you might have seen it, too.”

  Nothing on his mother’s face spoke to the fact she might be lying to him. Her soft smile felt like safety and his childhood. Her familiar presence was calming in some ways.

  At the same time, John was wary.

  He didn’t know why. He couldn’t put his finger on exactly what it was.

  Still, he hesitated in giving his mother the truth. Being wary was enough to add to his already growing paranoia about why his mother was even there in the first place.

  The very second John felt any kind of paranoia that was it for him. He didn’t indulge any other questions or conversation from anybody.

  Not even his own mother.

  “Well?” Jordyn asked quietly. “Did you see the sunrise, my boy?”

  “Yeah, I saw it,” John said.

  B
ecause he had been up since one after a two-hour nap that felt like ten hours of solid sleep. How in the hell else would he find the time to rearrange his whole house and clean it from floor to ceiling?

  “John—”

  “I’m kind of busy, Ma.”

  He looked over in just enough time to see Jordyn frown, but also hide it. She took one deep breath, and then glanced out the large kitchen window that overlooked the front of the Queen’s house.

  “Your father mentioned something to me, and I just wanted to check in on you.” Jordyn took a couple of steps closer to where John was working at the counter. “Do you know when was the last time you came to visit me?”

  “Yeah, you worry, I know.”

  “Johnathan.”

  He heard her call for him, but he was just lost in other things. The erratic, spinning thoughts in his mind. The shit he had to get done. The way he felt like he had suddenly been turned on high-speed for no reason at all.

  “They’re only looking out for your best interests, John,” his mother said.

  She had said more, but he only caught the last part of her sentence. It was enough to send a hot burst of anger shooting through his bloodstream.

  Mostly because he knew exactly what she was talking about without even asking. His father, uncles, and Andino.

  Watching him like he couldn’t be trusted.

  Acting like he didn’t know how to do his fucking job.

  Like he couldn’t handle his shit.

  “Fuck them,” John uttered.

  He picked up Dante’s calls because he couldn’t ignore the boss. Their conversations consisted of Dante asking a question, and John answering with yes or no. It never went deeper than that, though his uncle tried.

  Anyone else, though?

  His father, Andino, or even his uncle, Gio?

  John ignored all of them.

  “Maybe if you actually sat down and heard them out,” his mother tried to suggest.

  “What I want to hear is them saying they’re going to stay the fuck out of my business, and let me handle my own shit, Ma. Nothing else. Pass the message along if you think they actually give a damn.”

  Because he didn’t think they cared.

  His whole life had been this nonsense.