by Tessa Thorne
“So’s two-fifty,” I say.
He nods his agreement. “No doubt. But it’s not enough.”
“How much?” I ask. No matter who the guy is, unless he’s got a button, there’s always a price. Fuck. There’s always a price even if the guy's been made. Just need to want to kill him bad enough.
He shrugs. “Can’t say for sure. Four or five hundred. At least.”
“Fuck.” I smack my fist on the table.
“Hey, Rocco.” Tony smiles at me. “It’s just money. You’re moving up quick. You’ll have other chances for a big score like this.”
“I hear you,” I say.
I want to tell him how much this means to me. But I don’t even know myself why I give this much of a fuck. I should just let this go. It’s not good business to kill a cop unless I get an order from up on high. But every time I think about letting it go, I think about Caitlyn crying in that dingy office after I’d just fucked her brains out. Then I think about her poor kid, getting smacked around by his drunk dad.
I push aside those thoughts. I can’t go there right now. Ain’t got time for that. Last thing I need is to fall into one of my dark moods and do this without permission.
I push back my chair from the table and stand up. “Can you ask for me, Tony? Get me a price? Maybe she can pay it.”
Tony looks up at me with a curious look in his eyes. “She?”
Fuck. Should have been more careful. “Yeah.”
“You fucking her?” he asks flatly.
“I did,” I say as I step next to him and pat him on his thick shoulder. “But it ain’t like that.”
“Rocco,” he says, putting on his fatherly voice. “I’ve told you before. It’s not good to mix business and pleasure.”
“Tony,” I say, smiling reassuringly. “I told ya. It’s not like that. I wanted to make sure she wasn’t a cop.”
“I gotta try that.” He bursts out laughing. “Something tells me they wouldn’t be as into it when I ask.”
I pat him lightly on his big stomach. “You never know till you try, Tony.”
He grabs my hand before I pull back and tugs me down till my face is near his. “Look, Rocco. You’re a good kid, and I love you like a son. But don’t go outside the chain on this. Shit’s messy with the Santinis, and the boss isn’t gonna be happy if you go rogue.”
“Got it, Tony,” I say, leaning back up. “You’ll ask though, right?”
Tony nods. “I’ll ask.”
“See you around, Tony,” I say as I head back outside.
I grab another beer on my way out as I slowly walk out onto the sidewalk. The workers from a delivery truck stop and let me pass before they finish unloading cases of soda for Tony’s shop.
Fuck!
Four to five hundred. That’s what it’s gonna take to clear a hit on a cop. Call it five hundred and that’s fifty grand kicked up to Tony, and ten of that up to the boss.
A fucking kid with his eyes glued to his phone nearly runs into me. I have half a mind to knock some sense into him, but I keep walking. If I want to work out some of my anger, there’s a lot more deserving idiots to take it out on.
If I was Enzo, would I clear a hit on a cop for ten grand? A cop with a dad on the task force? I shake my head. No fucking way.
How am I gonna tell her she’s on her own?
Chapter Four
Caitlyn
I sit at my desk at the Women in Tech Innovation Co-op, just staring at my computer screen. This is what I’ve been doing for the past ten minutes without moving. I narrow my eyes to look past the morning sun reflecting off my screen at the numbers on our account statement.
A little over three hundred thousand.
To think that not too long ago, me and Jasmin were out at restaurant week celebrating our first major angel investor. Now I’m sitting here thinking about embezzling from my company so I can hire a hitman to kill my ex-husband.
I drop my head into my hands and squeeze my eyes shut, trying to keep the tears in. How did I get to this place? How could I have been stupid enough to think that Harry was a good guy in the first place? Why didn’t I leave him the first time he laid his hands on me? Why did I wait till he hit Ethan?
I lift my head out of my hands and grab the picture of my baby sitting on my desk. I trace my finger over the freckles spilled over his face. I love those bright blue eyes of his and his thick brown hair. It can be so hard to get his hair to sit straight, but I wouldn’t have him any other way.
Now I just have to find a way to protect him.
“Morning, babe.” Jasmin’s voice startles me out of my reverie and I quickly tab out of our financial statements to a design document.
My heart is in my throat as I turn around to see if Jasmin caught what I was looking at. But there’s no suspicion on her face. Just a look of concern.
How could I think Jasmin would be suspicious of me? I could have left our finances on my screen and she wouldn’t care. Why would she? We funded this company together a year after we met at a free coding class at the local library branch. And now I’m thinking about taking the money we worked so hard to raise together and ruining everything.
“You okay, babe?” she asks, putting her hand on my shoulder.
I realize I’ve been silently staring at her with a picture of Ethan in my hand. My eyes sting so I probably look like I’m about to cry, too.
“I’m okay,” I lie, my voice hoarse with emotion.
She leans in and squeezes my shoulder. She considers my eyes with her kind brown ones, and smiles softly. “I’m here for you anytime you want to talk, you know,” she says in a low voice so the people sitting around us can’t hear.
“I know.” I smile sadly. “Thank you. You’ve already been a huge help, watching Ethan for me.”
“Anytime, babe,” she says, leaning in to give me a quick hug. I just want to put my head on her shoulder and cry. “Why don’t you work from home today?”
“I’m okay.” I try to fake a more convincing smile. “Really.”
I don’t want to tell her that I don’t feel comfortable at all in that motel. And I feel like the worst mother on earth dragging Ethan there with me. But what are my other choices?
Mom hasn’t talked to me since I filed for a divorce. Every time I try to make things right with her, she just calls me a godless whore and hangs up on me. She had no sympathy when I told her I was leaving Harry because he beat me and Ethan. She told me it was my fault, and that Harry wouldn’t have hit me unless I did something to provoke him.
I look up and see Jasmin still looking at me as if I’m about to break down. I can’t imagine the look I have on my face right now.
“Seriously, Jasmin, I’m okay,” I lie, turning back to my computer. “I’m going to get my work done and pick up Ethan from day camp at three.”
“Okay, babe.” Jasmin smiles reassuringly and pats me on my shoulder. “I’ll be right here if you need me.”
She heads over to her desk sitting across from mine and boots up her computer. I turn back to my own computer and switch back to the financial software. I could take the money out now and Jasmin probably wouldn’t notice it being gone until we run the financial reports at the end of the month. That gives me a little over twenty days.
But what would I say when she found out? Only the two of us have access to our accounts, and she’d know it’s not her. I can’t betray her like that. It’d destroy everything we’ve built together. It’d ruin Ethan’s future.
No. I can’t let Harry ruin my life twice. First I had to run from my own home because he wouldn’t leave, and he had every restraining order I took out on him dismissed. Then after I filed for divorce and temporary custody, he blamed Ethan’s bruises on me and almost had Ethan taken away from me.
Then he found me at the nice hotel we were staying at and threatened me so I had to leave the Upper West Side and all of Ethan’s friends behind. Then he chased me out of another hotel in Brooklyn, until my only choice was to look up mote
ls that didn’t need credit cards or IDs. I had to look at nearly a dozen of them before I found one that looked safe enough to live in, but every day I live there, I see more and more reasons I need to get out fast.
Just this morning we had to walk past a guy who looked like he was passed out from heroin right outside of the motel. That’s no place you should have to raise a child. Even temporarily.
I shake my head to clear my thoughts and take a sip of my cold coffee. It’s time to stop waffling on what to do and decide. I click on the transfer button, type in two hundred thousand and hover my mouse over the submit button.
A glance over my monitor shows me that Jasmin is listening to her headphones and typing away at her computer. She’s working on getting our app ready for a demo, and I’m here about to ruin our company. It’ll ruin us both if I do this. Word gets around the venture capitalist community fast, and if they find out I’ve embezzled our funding, it’ll be a permanent black mark on us both. She’ll never be able to get funding again and it’ll all be because of me. Hell, I’d probably end up in jail!
I can’t do that to her, and I can’t do that to Ethan. This company is our future. I’m not going to let Harry take everything from me.
I close out of the financial software and do a search for a gun store I can visit during lunch. That’s it. I’ll buy myself a gun and then the next time Harry finds me, I’ll do whatever it takes to protect us.
Even if that means killing him myself.
Chapter Five
Rocco
“Hey Ma,” I say, combing my fingers through the back of my hair. She’s sitting on her rocking chair by the window, getting what sunshine she can.
“It’s a nice day out, isn’t it?” I say as I pull up a chair and sit down across from her.
I wait, letting the usual silence fill the room. This is the typical routine. Come in, let her see me. Make a little small talk until I can’t stand her sitting silently across from me. It gets harder to come here every day, but it wouldn’t be right to stop coming.
She’s my ma, and she wouldn’t be here if she hadn't tried to protect Pinky. We’re all she’s got now.
“I met a girl,” I say, not knowing where I’m going with this. “Not sure what to do with her.”
She stares unblinkingly out the window. Not that I expected a reaction.
“I've never really talked to you about any of the women in my life, have I?” I lean back in the chair, and look at a seagull circling in the air outside.
“Never really met one that could hold my interest.” I laugh. “This Caitlyn girl though, she’s managed to do just that. Not that she’s in my life.”
“Maybe I’m only thinking about her cause she’s got a bad ex after her.” I clench my jaw, thinking about that shit cop. “Gets my goat thinking about a man putting a fist to a woman or a child.”
“She came to me asking for my help.” I put my hands on my thighs and clench them into tight fists. “But he’s protected; I don’t think I can help her.”
I imagine what Ma would say if she could speak. She’d probably think I’m a coward, leaving a woman to fend for herself. And she’d be right.
I have to find a way to help her.
“You’re right, Ma,” I say. “I’ll find a way.”
I stand up and put the chair back in its place. I walk over to Ma, kiss her softly on her forehead and squeeze her shoulder. “I think I have an idea,” I say. “I won’t let what happened to you happen to her.”
“You look like you’re about to go into one of your dark moods,” Pinky says over his coffee.
He’s right. I put my cellphone down and slam my fist on the iron patio table.
“It’s a no-go,” I say through gritted teeth. Two hundred fifty grand down the drain. I’m sure she’d get it together, too. What other choice does she have?
“That’s a big letdown.” Pinky states the obvious.
“You think?” I stand up, pacing along the sidewalk outside Franky’s.
This is too nice of a summer day to be ruined by news like this. It’s just about eighty degrees, low humidity, and all the women are out in their booty shorts.
If this were any other time, I’d be drinking outside with my little brother, enjoying the sights. Then a quick collection run, followed by getting hammered at Patsy’s and going home with whatever broad catches my eye. Instead, I’m standing here fuming because the boss won’t clear a rich hit on a cop.
Fuck!
“It’s not just the money, is it?” Pinky asks. I glare down at him and he shrinks back from me. And I’m too angry to care. He knows what he’s doing when he brings shit like this up.
I stuff my hands into my pockets as I pace and curse under my breath. “It’s not just the fucking money.”
Of course it isn’t. I can’t fucking stand men who lay hands on their families. Pinky knows better than anyone. My crew’s learned by now not to even joke about that shit around me. I’d love to get my hands around that fucking cop’s neck and wring the life out of him.
Fuck, I’d do it for free. But now I can’t. This thing of ours has got no room for a soldier to disobey orders from the boss. And the boss said no.
Even though I’m a top fucking earner. Even though I just whacked a made guy in the middle of a Sunday festival in broad daylight so the boss could make an impression on the Santinis and any other family that thinks they can move in on us. I’ve never failed in delivering. And all for what?
“Fuck!” I yell and toss a patio chair across the street. A yellow cab screeches to a stop and the driver curses out the window. One scowl and he shuts up and pulls away.
“Dude!” Pinky jumps up and grabs at my shoulders, holding me back from running after the cabbie. “What are you doing?”
“I’m fine!” I spit out as I knock his hands away from my shoulders. “You got that other info I asked you to dig up?”
“Yeah,” he says. “I was just finishing my coffee before I looked at it.”
“Sit your ass down and look at it now,” I say in a low voice as I take the seat opposite him. “Wasted enough time already.”
“Alright,” Pinky says, holding up his hands. “You need to relax, bro.”
I frown and he shuts his mouth like a trap and starts typing away on his laptop. I tap my hand on my thigh, trying to dampen the urge to commit violence.
“The tracker on her phone is live now,” he says. “Let me just pull up her location history.”
A few more clicks on the keyboard and he turns the laptop around and shows me the screen. It’s a map with a line tracing a path from Franky’s to the bad part of Queens, and then to Brooklyn, where she’s at now.
“You can wipe the evidence the phone was here, right?” I ask, studying the map more closely.
“Yeah.” He nods.
“Good,” I say, turning the laptop back toward him. “Looks like she’s staying at a roach motel.”
“That’s a surprise.” Pinky laughs. “All her statements had an Upper West Side address.”
Another glare, and Pinky shuts his trap. He should know better than to laugh with the mood I’m in.
“Here’s something that just popped up,” Pinky says, distracting me from that line of thought. “Her name just showed up in a background check database search.”
“Why?” I ask. The cop wouldn’t need to run a search on her. He should know everything about her.
“Looks like she’s trying to buy a handgun,” he says, turning the screen back toward me.
I look at the scanned document on the screen. It’s a background check application signed today at a gun store in Brooklyn.
“Maybe she couldn’t get the money together,” he says.
“That’s my kinda broad.” I smile grimly. “An Irish broad with a thick ass who’s willing to get her hands dirty.”
I’m parked across the street from the motel Pinky tracked Caitlyn down to. It’s not as bad as I imagined. It’s worse. There’s a couple of junkies passed out ag
ainst each other next to the door. The broken sidewalks are riddled with trash. Most of the street lights are burned out. Even traffic is light. No one wants to drive around this neighborhood.
There’s a knock against my passenger window and a sharp glower sends the beggar scurrying away. Don’t got time for any shit right now. I shouldn’t even be here. I’m in one of those moods where anything can set me off. Shouldn’t be here to talk to Caitlyn when I’m like this, but here I am.
What am I doing? This should just be a lost opportunity. One of those things you shrug off and move on from. There’s plenty of other opportunities out there. The collection run went well. Except when I nearly went off on the one guy for commenting on how I looked so sour for a guy who just got paid ten grand. I’m glad Mikey was there to hold me back. Pinky wouldn’t have been able to.
I should be out with my crew, drinking and finding some easy pussy to smash. Instead I’m lurking in my car on Santini turf, outside the motel of a woman who can’t afford to pay me for a hit I’m not even authorized to carry out. What the hell am I here for?
That feeling of guilt deep in my stomach reminds me why I’m here. Should I really be feeling this guilty for having fucked her and then not being able to deliver on what she wanted? Or is this about me? About how my dad treated our family? About how I didn’t stop him in time before he got to Ma?
“Fuck this,” I say to myself. I tuck my holstered gun in the back of my pants and step out of the car. I’m done waiting.
I pull the motel door open and head over to the front desk. The guy manning it doesn’t even look up from the television when he hears me come in. I lay into the bell on the counter until he turns around with a loud sigh.
“Yes?” he asks.
“I need the room number for the strawberry blonde woman with the kid,” I say, sliding a folded hundred across the counter.
He takes the bill and snaps it open, staring at the watermark through the blinking fluorescent lights in the ceiling. He nods, rolls the bill into a tight tube and tucks it into his shirt pocket.
