His Witness

by Vanessa Waltz

  “You look a bit depressed, Melanie,” my dad says in a low voice, so that Mom can’t hear. “What’s the matter? Is it the club?”

  “No!”

  I won’t dump my problems on Dad. He wouldn’t be able to handle the club. Those bastards would chew him up and spit him out because he’s a nice guy. I’m all he’s got.

  “I just—”

  He looks at me, his eyes watering like he already knows. “You think I don’t notice how hard you work? I’m so proud of you. You’re such a good daughter. I don’t deserve it.”

  His arm wraps around my shoulders and he buries his face in his hand, apparently overcome with tears. My heart breaks as he clutches my shoulder.

  “Dad, it’s okay. I don’t mind.”

  “Miguel!” Mom’s round eyes fix on my father and she makes flapping motions with her hands toward me. I slide out of the chair, my heart clenching painfully as I move away from the table. Mom wraps her arms around his back as he sobs. His voice follows me all the way to my bedroom.

  I can’t stay in this tiny apartment right now. It’s too depressing.

  Quickly I pull on clothes and grab my purse. I’ll take a walk down Central Park, anything to avoid this right now. I feel guilted into working for them, and, with no life of my own, resentment rears its ugly head pretty often these days.

  “Bye, I’m going out.”

  “When will you be back?”

  I don’t bother answering as I close the door behind them. My pocket buzzes and I answer the phone. A girlish voice cracks in my ear.

  “Hey, Mel. Where are you? Do you want to meet up?”

  “Sure,” I say, slightly out of breath as I hurry down the stairs. “Where?”

  * * *

  From the outside, this deli looks pretty unremarkable. It’s a white building with faded red cursive letters: Centanni’s Pork Store. The outdoors has several flimsy-looking tables and chairs, where there are a few men milling around.

  She wants to meet at this place?

  This hardly looks like the sort of place that would attract her attention. Michelle’s all about fusion restaurants and the hipster scene. This is mom-and-pop. Boring.

  I walk toward the door, trying to reserve judgment as I pass a man my age seated at a table. Someone else walks right in front of my path and blocks the door as I reach out for the handle. What the fuck?

  A dark-skinned Italian crosses his arms, looking down at me. It’s Vince. He looks at me unsmilingly. “Fancy seeing you here.”

  The sight of him today makes my blood run cold. The revulsion in my stomach builds like the collection of saliva in your mouth right before you vomit. The guy’s blood was all over, running in the streets. I am completely overcome with terror. I must be still in shock—or traumatized, or something.

  Why are they here? I look at the tables outside, and I see Joe there, lounging in a chair.

  His frown deepens. “We don’t talk business at the deli, if that’s why you’re here.”

  I keep my eyes down. “I’m just here to meet a friend of mine. Michelle.”

  A smile lights his face when I mention her name, and he steps aside.

  Creep.

  “Nice broad. You could learn a thing or two from her.”

  Then the surge of anger returns.

  “Oh, fuck off.”

  I don’t like being told to be nice, especially from this asshole. I’ll be angry if I fucking want to be angry.

  His face twists into a deadly smirk as the men behind him crack up, but I step aside and shove the door open.

  You’re still playing with fire, talking to them like that.

  My intestines feel like live snakes. I really need to learn to bring my temper under control. I shouldn’t insult them, as much as they deserve it. This must be a goddamn hangout for these mobster bastards. Why the hell did she want me to come here? Christ, this is the last thing I need.

  I walk inside the brightly lit, dingy deli. It’s a bit cold inside, and right away I notice Michelle sitting at a table, looking kind of guilty. Her wan face turns toward me, her hair a bit more yellow in the weak lighting.

  “Want a sandwich?”

  She has a half-eaten Italian sub on a paper plate, but I shake my head. “Nah. I just wanted to get out of the apartment.” I look around, and it’s pretty deserted. My voice drops to a whisper. “Why did you bring me here? You know I hate these guys.”

  Her face falls. “Why do you hate them so much? I know that they kind of have you and your dad in a bind, but they’re not so bad, are they?”

  “You have no idea.” I think of the body Tommy disposed of yesterday. If she only knew.

  Curious blue eyes widen and a nervous grin hitches on her face. “Oooh, tell me!”

  God, I almost want to. Part of me wants to talk about it with someone; the larger, cowardly part wants to keep it to myself. Tommy warned me. He wasn’t coy about it, either. No, I have to keep my trap shut about all of it.

  There’s just way too much at stake.

  “It’s not the sorta thing you gossip about.”

  She grins. “It sounds like just the sort of thing you gossip about.”

  I shake my head violently. “No way. I’m not going there.”

  Her face crumples in disappointment and then she looks down at her sandwich, apparently embarrassed. “Listen, I wanted to ask for your help. I was wondering if I could go in the back after tonight’s shift and have drinks with the guys.”

  I shrug. “Why do you need me?”

  “There’s this guy I really like. His name’s Ben—”

  “Oh God.” I know where this is going already.

  “No, listen. He’s really sweet—”

  “Oh yeah,” I snort. “Sweet.”

  They’re sweet right up until they confront a thief and stab him to death. Yup.

  “He’s hot, and I want him. They never like it when I’m back there by myself, but if you stayed there after work—”

  Frustration builds in my chest and I wonder how I ever found this girl smart. I want to scream. “Michelle, why the hell do you want to date these guys? They’re not nice guys. Do you realize what they do for a living? Have you read the news lately?”

  Her eyes crinkle with amusement. “Geez, will you relax? I just want to go on a few dates, what’s the big deal?”

  I stare at her.

  Fine.

  Let her go on a few dates, and she’ll see what they’re really like.

  “All right, fine.”

  Michelle’s face lights up and she leans over the table, squealing. “Thank you!”

  “Can we get out of here now?”

  She laughs. “’Course. Where do you want to go?”

  Anywhere, as long as it’s not here.

  I stand up stiffly as I notice movement in the back. Suddenly the door flies open, bringing a gust of cold air into the café.

  Oh no.

  My head swims with dizziness as I recognize the man behind the counter. He grinned at me over the body of the man he just killed. Tommy stands behind the counter, his white sleeves rolled up and his arms shining as if he recently washed them. His normally handsome face looks ugly. His eyebrows are knitted; his face wears a grimace, his eyes shrouded. It makes me back against the table I just got up from. He looks as if he’ll kill the first person he sees. Then he notices me standing there, and the look evaporates from his face. It’s so fast that I think I imagined it.

  “Melanie?” His eyes widen as he takes in Michelle’s appearance, too. “Melanie and Michelle, what a nice surprise.”

  It’s not really that nice.

  Michelle beams at him, but my guts feel as though they’re made of steel. Unyielding. Rigid.

  I give him a reluctant smile. “Hi.”

  “Did you come here to see me?”

  What should I say?

  My heart jumps when I hear the door to the deli open and close. Michelle disappears behind it, smirking at me behind the glass.

  Bitc
h.

  When I turn around, Tommy stands right in front of me, his eyes burning. “What’s the matter, sweetheart? Cat got your tongue?”

  Last night seemed like a hazy, absurd dream, but now that I’m confronted with him again, I am sick with fear. The nausea creeps up my throat, combined with the thrill of being so close to him. I’m scared. I’m sick. It’s so confusing to my system.

  His eyes harden, his voice dropping low enough so that it’s hard to hear him. “You haven’t been talking to anyone, have you?”

  “No,” I say, finally finding my voice. “I’m only here because Michelle wanted a favor. I didn’t know all of you would be here.”

  The hazel eyes regard me suspiciously for a moment, but then the dimples curve into his cheeks. “What kind of favor?”

  “She’s into Ben.”

  His eyes flash. “Hm.”

  “She wants to hang out in the back of the club after her shift is done. Do you think he’ll be there?”

  Tommy’s eyes close like shutters on windows, and his jaw tenses. “Maybe. I don’t know.”

  The energy coming off Tommy shifts. He always feels warm and energetic, but the moment I mentioned Ben’s name, I feel him pull away from me.

  “We haven’t seen him in a couple days, so we’re assuming the worst,” he explains.

  I have no love for these Mafia people, but even I can grudgingly admit that Ben always treated me decently. He never gave me shit or manhandled me. I liked him a lot more than Vincent, that’s for sure.

  “I’m sorry.”

  The sad smile on his face tugs at my heartstrings, and he makes a little shrug as if it’s no big deal. His eyes suddenly shine with amusement.

  “Why are you so quiet?”

  Well, no shit I’m quiet. I only just watched you rip open someone the night before.

  “I didn’t sleep very well last night.”

  “Oh? How come?”

  My eyes bug out at him. Is he fucking with me?

  “Because of what happened.”

  His face is as blank as ever, but he gives me a nod as though he understands what I’m going through.

  “It’ll be all right, hon. Sometimes these things happen. You’ll get used to it.”

  What?

  Then he touches my shoulder in what I’m sure he thinks is a consoling gesture, but it just feels like a violation.

  I don’t want to get used to it.

  Another loud bang makes me jump as the back door flies open.

  A young guy sticks his head out. “Tommy, I need you, man—ah, hello.” He breaks midsentence to greet me, his round face blushing.

  Tommy turns toward him, seething. His face flushes with color and he looks as if he’s on the verge of exploding.

  “I—I was just leaving. Bye, Tommy.”

  Eager to get out of that place, I practically sprint across the café and as I burst out of the door, I get one final shot of Tommy, red in the face, screaming.

  “I was fucking talking to her, you dumb-ass!”

  The door slams shut, and I nearly crash into Vincent.

  “Whoa!”

  I sidestep him and lunge for Michelle, who sits beside Joe. He looks at me with thinly veiled contempt. I grab Michelle’s hand and yank her upright. “Come on.”

  “All right—ow, you’re hurting me!” She twists around and waves at him. “Bye, Joe!”

  “See you.”

  Michelle stumbles as I walk forward. Her face narrows in annoyance.

  “Jesus! What the hell has gotten into you?”

  I can’t tell her. She gets just one look at my frightened face and shuts up. My pace quickens and blood rushes to my head.

  God, I just want to get out of this. I can’t stand it.

  * * *

  The club has a live rock band, so I’m in a better mood than usual. Sales are up and the liquor keeps flowing. Michelle shakes her ass on the dance floor with the other girls, and I wander around, my boots marking up the floors. It’s almost four a.m. when we close for the day, and my ankles ache. Michelle slides up to me hopefully as the last customers trickle out.

  I told her what I heard from Tommy about Ben, but she still insisted on coming. I hoped she would cancel her plans. No such luck.

  She adjusts her low crop top and brushes her long, streaked hair, giving me a wide smile that I’m sure will make the bastards melt.

  “Let’s just have a good time,” she says, touching my arm.

  Fat chance.

  There are butterflies fluttering in my stomach because I know he’ll be there. I don’t care what she wants; I’m not sticking around for more than an hour. My stomach feels like lead as I open the door to the Employees Only area and we walk around the deserted lockers, passing by my office, which is crammed with mobsters. Their voices boom through the door and raise the hairs on my arm. I open the door. Heat burns my face as I watch them in there, drinking my alcohol, putting their shoes on my coffee table as if they fucking own the place—own me.

  It’s as if we stumbled upon a scene. There’s a slight haze of smoke in the air from the cigarettes. It curls around their fingers and blows upward. Dark suits stand everywhere. In the corner, I see an exchange of something—bricks of cocaine. Vince wraps his arm around Jack’s shoulder, and through the throng of people I see stacks of cash slowly being counted. Michelle’s wide eyes take it all in.

  I freeze in the doorway, my heart stalling in my chest.

  We’re not supposed to be here.

  Tommy’s smiling face appears out of nowhere. He wears a light-blue shirt and a black suit, which is loosely buttoned. I catch a glimpse of a broad chest and my eyes travel up his neck, which is covered with short, brown stubble. My neck feels hot for some reason I can’t understand, and suddenly stacks of cash are picked up—shoved quickly into a duffel bag.

  He takes my arm before I can pull away, and the feeling of his coarse fingers on the sensitive skin of my wrist makes me tremble violently.

  What the hell is that?

  “Please, come in.”

  I resent being invited into my own fucking office, but the sight of all these people seems to have temporarily robbed me of breath. It’s like being dumped into shark-infested waters. Sooner or later they’ll notice my presence and tear me to shreds. I can’t mouth off to them, not while the boss is standing right there. Tommy grins as he leads me to the couch, as if he’s conscious of that fact.

  The black leather squeaks as I settle in, Tommy sliding in right next to me. He’s way too close and fear slowly pricks over my skin.

  Fucking hell, what did I get myself into?

  Michelle presses her palms together eagerly. “So, is Ben coming over tonight?”

  A stony expression hardens over his smiling face. “I don’t know where he is.”

  Blonde hair dangles over the coffee table as she leans in, giving the men across the room a fantastic view of her cleavage. They grin at her behind her head.

  “He’s really missing?”

  “Yeah.” He takes a sip of his scotch. “Do you ladies want a drink?”

  This is my opportunity to leave.

  “Um—maybe we should get going, Michelle.”

  Tommy’s face falls comically. “C’mon, you just got here!”

  “I’m staying,” she says in a chipper voice. She takes a bottle from the table and pours herself a drink, and then she stands up, giving me a roguish wink.

  “Ben won’t be here, though.”

  “Eh, that’s okay.”

  Fuck you! Don’t leave me here with this psycho!

  That suits Tommy fine, and he casually spreads his arm behind my head.

  Jesus. Fuck.

  I lean forward and grab the drink Tommy passes me, taking a huge gulp. If I’m going to stay here and hang out with this guy, I’ll need to be drunk. My heart feels as though it’s going to split from all the jostling in my chest. Jesus, it almost hurts. As the alcohol burns down, I feel my nerves quell almost instantly.

&nb
sp; “You know, you were very quiet at the deli, and you’re quiet again now. It’s unlike you. No insults, no, ‘Fuck off, Tommy.’ It’s a nice change, but what gives?”

  “There are a lot of people in here.”

  He snorts. “That never stopped you before.”

  Fingers lightly stroke the top of my shoulder and I tense all over. It’s confusing. The heat alcohol burns my throat, spreading warmth all over my skin as a light dizziness takes me over. It’s pleasant. It suddenly occurs to me why I felt so confused in the deli. There was fear, yes, but also excitement. Somewhere, deep down in some fucked-up, dark recess, I’m attracted to him. I concentrate on how it feels when he touches me. Then he chuckles, and the sound goes right through my body. An electrical shock runs through my arm, across my breasts, all the way down to the heat growing between my legs.

  He stabbed someone to death right in front of you.

  When I don’t pull away, his fingers continue their slow, circular massage. I can hardly think of anything else except how sensual it is. It’s as if he’s running his fingers up my thighs. My fingers tighten on the glass. I lean forward and put it down.

  I’ve got to get out of here.

  “I should go.”

  His fingers curl over my shoulder. “No, stay!”

  “I really shouldn’t.”

  “Just have one drink with me,” he says with a friendly smile. “Besides, you need to watch your friend.”

  “What?”

  I snap my head around and my vision seems to take a while to slow down and readjust. Then I see Michelle wearing a coy smile as she leans over Vincent’s desk. He eyes her with a small smile.

  “Oh fuck,” I swear, thoughts of leaving immediately abandoned. “Is she out of her mind?”

  Tommy’s body shakes with a chuckle. “I know his wife, and she’d fucking lose it if she saw anyone hitting on her husband.” He shakes his head. “She’s wasting her time.”

  “I just don’t understand why she’d want to date any of these assholes.”

  Shit.

  “Including me?”

  I turn my head sideways, horrified.

  “Um—”

  He laughs his head off, and a warm flutter fills my stomach when he smiles and winks at me.

  Then he squeezes my shoulder.