Now I worried that I’d be single for the rest of my life.
Leaning against the glass, I yawned again. Condensation spread across the thin windowpane and I closed my eyes, drawing a finger though the wet mist. The streets were shiny in the early morning sun.
Finally, I made myself get up and get dressed in my “work uniform” – a black pencil skirt with a conservative cream blouse and low heels. I glanced in the mirror, tidying my brown hair. I wonder what Michael would think of me now, I thought as I toyed with my bangs. Would he still like me? Would he even recognize me?
I shook my head as if to clear the thought, then stepped away from the mirror and twisted the bare skin on my left ring finger. I’d never exactly loved my engagement ring, but it still felt weird to have bare hands once again. I hated knowing that I’d given the ring back to Douglas, but as Heather said, it was better to cover my ass than worry about a lawsuit in the future.
Grabbing my jacket, I threw the strap of my work bag over my shoulder and poured myself a go-cup of coffee from the small machine on the counter. Today’s a new day, I thought, forcing a smile as I stepped out the door and closed it quietly behind me. And I can do anything I want.
--
Work was fine – it always was. My boss had hired me without knowing about Michael…but the death of a billionaire’s son doesn’t stay quiet for long. During my second week of work, the New York Times had published a spread on Michael and his life. There was a big photo of us on the front page of the Style section – it had been on of our engagement photos, with Michael and I both looking happy. When I’d gone into work the next day, my boss had thrown his arms around me and apologized. I hadn’t been pleased about the article. I was sure that Douglas had manipulated the editor into making sure there was little mention of me, and it felt like an overall stain to Michael’s memory. The article had made him seem so cold and calculating, just like a little version of his father. I’d saved it, of course, but it hadn’t been the Michael I’d known.
I’ve been thinking about him a lot today, I realized as I descended into the grimy subway. I wonder what that’s all about.
When I got home, Heather was standing in front of the stove, stirring something delicious. The air was thick with the creamy, tangy smell of marinara sauce and I grinned when I saw a bag of fresh pasta perched on the side of the stove.
“Hey,” Heather said. “Long day?”
I shrugged. “Same as every other, to be honest,” I said. “God, that looks good. How long have you been cooking?”
Heather laughed. “It’s nothing,” she said. She lifted the lid of the trash can and I saw a jar of gourmet pasta sauce from the bodega down the street. Heather rolled her eyes and we laughed together.
“Still not much of a cook,” I cracked. I put my work bag down on the floor and perched on a barstool.
“It’s better than takeout,” Heather shot back. She snickered. “God, I can’t wait for the weekend.”
I nodded. “Me either.” I yawned. “I feel like ever since I started working full time, I’m just exhausted. Like, all the time.”
Heather nodded. “I get that,” she said. “Hey, can you put on the TV?”
“Why?” I frowned. “What’s coming on?”
“Some guy robbed a woman on my subway car this morning,” Heather explained. “I wanted to hang around and see if he got caught but I was already running late so I had to go.”
I nodded. “Sure.” I walked over to the small TV we kept on the edge of the bar and flipped through the channels until I found a local news station. The anchors were sitting in front of a tall desk, looking both comical and serious as they read bits and short stories from a televised prompted.
“So,” Heather said. “This weekend, I was thinking – you wanna go shopping in Jersey? Mom offered to take us to lunch.”
I wrinkled my nose. “I don’t know, I was thinking about catching up on my sleep.” Keeping one ear on the television, I reached into my bag and pulled out my phone. Suddenly, one of the anchors said a familiar name.
A name that chilled my blood when I heard it spoken.
“Alessio Amoruso, owner of local restaurant chain Amoruso’s, has been officially released from prison today. He served six months after violating parole.”
I grabbed the remote and fumbled, dropping it on my feet. The plastic bounced off my toes and I cried out in pain as I reached down and grabbed it again, desperately punching the ‘volume up’ button as I aimed the plastic square at the television.
“What the hell,” Heather hissed. “What’s wrong with you, spaz girl?”
“Shut up,” I said. “I’m trying to hear this.”
The female anchor turned back to her co-star and laughed politely. “Sources say Amoruso could be facing more severe charges, but a lawyer for the family has released the statement that he’s happy to be out of jail, and looks forward to returning to the restaurant empire.”
“Oh, Amoruso’s,” the male anchor said. “Wow, I love their pasta. You ever eaten there, Cindy?”
The female anchor laughed. “No, Mark,” she tittered. “I haven’t, but I hope to soon!”
Groaning, I muted the television and buried my face in my hands.
“This is so fucked,” I mumbled under my breath. “I can’t believe he’s out! I can’t believe they didn’t get him for Michael!”
“Babe, what are you talking about?” Heather walked over and put a hand on my shoulder. “I thought you were having a good day!”
“I was,” I moaned miserably. “Until I heard about this!”
“Oh, honey, I’m sure he doesn’t want anything to do with you,” Heather said.
I frowned. “I’m not worried about that idiot or his dumb threats,” I said slowly. “But I can’t believe he didn’t serve more time.” Guilt flashed across my brain. Michael would want me to avenge him, I realized as I stared at the muted television screen.
“Well, you’re fine then,” Heather chirped. She stirred the marinara sauce on the stove. “Feel like dinner?”
I grabbed my phone and shook my head. “I gotta call someone,” I said. “And then I’m gonna go lie down. Thanks, though.”
Heather pouted as I left the kitchen. I wanted to tell her what I was feeling, but part of me didn’t think she’d understand. After all, now that Michael was gone, her favorite thing to say was, “the two of you weren’t perfect for each other.”
What would she say about my urge to avenge his untimely death?
Alone in the privacy of my small bedroom, I called the New York police.
“Hello,” I said. “May I please speak with Detective Aberson?”
There was a long pause. “What for?”
“It’s about Alessio Amoruso,” I said.
There was a click. Five seconds later, a familiar and kindly voice sounded in my ear.
“Hello, Beth,” Detective Aberson said. “I had a feeling I might be hearing from you today. How are you?”
I bit my lip. “I didn’t know he was out,” I said softly. “How the hell did he manage to get out so fast?”
Detective Aberson sighed. “I don’t know, Beth,” he said. “I know this is the guy responsible for some heinous shit around the city.”
“I want to testify,” I said. “I want to testify that he threatened me to stay silent for the murder of Michael Bennett.”
“Are you sure?” Detective Aberson coughed wetly into the receiver. “That’s a lot of stress to go through, Beth. That might be very hard on you. Are you sure you’re ready for something as difficult as that?”
“Yes,” I said. My voice quavered and shook. “I don’t have a choice,” I added. “Michael would want me to do this.”
“I understand, Beth,” Detective Aberson said. “I’m proud of you. I’ll call you soon. Try not to leave the city for a few days, okay?”
“I won’t.”
“And can you come down tomorrow? Maybe in the evening?”
“I’ll be there at six-
thirty.”
Chapter Thirteen
Beth
The next day, my manager called and told me not to come into work. I was disappointed – rent was coming up, and I had nowhere near my half of the apartment to hand over to Heather. Still, it was nice to have a day off. After I got off the phone with my manager, I went back to sleep and stayed in bed until after eleven-thirty in the morning.
By the time I finally got up, I was feeling pretty rested and calm. I took a long bath with my favorite lavender shower gel and read the first three chapters of Wuthering Heights. At first, when Michael had died, I’d never felt like reading fiction again. Whenever I read a love scene, his face popped into my mind. But now I was really feeling like a new person…almost like Michael hadn’t existed at all.
The only thing keeping me from really enjoying my day was knowing that I had to go downtown and speak to Detective Aberson. I wondered what kind of questions he’d ask. I also couldn’t help worrying about Alessio’s thugs – would they come after me again? I’d told the detective that I wasn’t afraid, but the truth was that I was pretty frightened. After all, it wasn’t like I had the Bennett security or money to fend off attackers anymore. Douglas had given me a measly check of five hundred dollars. He’d informed me that had I actually married his son, I’d have been entitled to half of Michael’s fortune in the event of his death.
Part of me almost wished that we had married before the accident, if only to stick it to Douglas’s greedy self.
Heather was out. She was still a little miffed from the night before. After I’d gotten off the phone with the detective, I hadn’t come out for dinner. I knew that I’d hurt her feelings, but I was still trying to decide how the hell I was going to tell her about everything going on. I wanted her support, obviously, but I also didn’t want her jumping to conclusions when she didn’t know very much.
To be honest, I was also afraid of Alessio finding her…and hurting her, as a way to get to me.
I decided to hop over to my favorite coffee place and get a drink before I was expected downtown. Who knows, I thought as I breezed down the street. Maybe caffeine will help me calm down.
The coffee shop was crowded – lots of students, people working from home, and tired commuters in wrinkled suits. I waited in line, then ordered a caramel and peanut butter latte. The barista was someone I’d seen before, and we made small talk. It felt good to be doing something so normal in the midst of my life’s total chaos.
“Don’t look now,” the barista said, leaning close. “But that guy over there is staring at you. Do you know him?”
I shook my head. “I don’t,” I said. I glanced over my shoulder and shivered. There was a man watching me. He had olive skin, white teeth, and dark eyes that managed to look menacing even in the dim light of the shop.
“Well, he looks kind of creepy,” the barista said. She handed me my latte and I took a sip. “I’d keep an eye out for him.”
I frowned. The only empty seat left in the shop was right next to the man, but I didn’t want to risk him trying to speak with me. Instead, I walked over to the other side of the shop and leaned against the wall. A group of college students was complaining about a professor’s ridiculously difficult assignment and I pretended to listen, nodding and bobbing my head along with the conversation.
I couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was watching me. When I glanced up, I saw the man staring at me with the same creepy, broad smile.
What do you want, I thought as I glared right back. A tremor of fear crossed my heart as the man raised his eyebrows. He went from looking scary to truly demonic in that second, and my latte trembled in my hand.
“Hey, lady, shove off,” one of the college kids said. “We don’t know you, go away.”
“Sorry, sorry,” I mumbled. I tripped over my foot and fell, spilling my peanut butter latte all over my new shoes and the dirty floor. “Shit!” I yelled.
One of the college girls rolled her eyes. She handed me a wad of napkins and knelt down, blotting the coffee until the napkins were stained tan.
“Don’t mind him,” she said, jerking her head towards the kid who’d asked me to go away. “He’s a jerk.”
I blushed. “I really am sorry,” I said. “I just wanted to avoid that guy over there. He keeps staring at me.”
The girl glanced up. She narrowed her eyes, then turned back to me. “What guy?”
“That guy,” I said in exasperation. I stood up and pointed towards where the man had been sitting.
But there was no man there.
My heart leapt into my throat and I spun around, wildly looking in vain for the creepy man. When I saw him, I let out a little scream. He was standing closer than ever – so close that I could smell his tobacco.
“Oh, had a little spill, did we?” The man stepped closer and leered at me. His white teeth were gleaming in a scary, unnatural way and his beard was greasy.
“Leave me alone,” I stammered. “I don’t know who you are.”
The man grabbed my wrist and pulled me close. “You know exactly who I am,” he sneered. “And trust me, you little cunt – you don’t want to mess with the Amoruso family.”
I shivered and tried to pull my arm away. The man was strong, and he tightened his grip until my hand went numb and I cried out in pain.
“Leave me alone,” I growled. “Or I’ll scream!”
The man snickered. With his free hand, he pushed his coat to the side. I saw a gleaming silver pistol tucked into his waistband. Gasping in fright, I finally yanked my hand away from him and stumbled backwards, crashing into a nearby table and falling to the ground. The man didn’t take his eyes away from mine as I tumbled and landed with my limbs akimbo.
“That man,” I stuttered, pointing towards him. “He’s threatening me!”
One of the college kids darted over and grabbed my hand, pulling me up and back on my feet.
“Did you see that man?” I asked breathlessly. “He’s following me! He won’t leave me alone!”
The kid glanced over her shoulder. “I don’t see anyone,” she said. “Are you okay? Do you want me to call an ambulance?”
Heat rose to my cheeks and I flushed angrily, biting my lip. “No, never mind,” I said, pushing her hand away. “I’m fine, just leave me alone.”
My heart was still racing in fear but as I looked around the shop, I realized that the man had vanished. A cold chill ran down my spine and I grabbed my bag and darted outside. I knew I had to make it to the police station soon.
If I didn’t, the man would be able to find me. Suddenly, I felt terrified and agoraphobic. Most of the time, I felt nothing but comfort from walking alone in New York City, because I was never truly alone. I liked all the pedestrians and all of the cars – they helped me feel safe, like I was part of something truly larger than myself.
But now, knowing that there was a man out there who wanted to hurt me was terrifying. I realized that he could snatch me and it was likely that no one would even notice. New Yorkers are noted for always keeping their heads down, and I feared that if I was the victim of something horrible, it would happen in plain daylight.
I pulled the collar of my coat up around my ears as I stalked forward. Come on, I urged myself. Just a little bit longer. I kept whirling around and looking behind me, but the man was thankfully nowhere to be seen.
Still, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was being watched.
My phone buzzed in my purse and I paused, reaching and trying to dig for it at the bottom. People jostled and crowded around me – some even barked commands at me to get out of the way – and I took comfort in that, almost like I had a human armor.
Someone grabbed my arm and yanked.
“Hey,” I snapped. “I’ll be out of the way in a second, god! Just wait!”
The person yanked me backwards. My phone fell from my hands and clattered onto the pavement. I screamed as my body flew through the air. The hand gripping my shoulder was strong and muscular and I tri
ed to fight it off but the grip only intensified. When my feet touched the ground again, I realized I was being pulled away from the street and towards an alley.
“Help!” I screamed. “Somebody, help me! I’m being attacked!”
Unprepared Daddy Page 36
