by JM Darhower
“It is locked for a reason, just like I have a code for a reason.”
“Why do you have one?”
“Because my father isn’t always home and sometimes we need shit in here. That’s not the point, though. Come on.”
She stared at him, contemplating his words, before hesitantly stepping inside the room. Carmine placed his hand on her hip, kissing the nape of her neck. “See, that wasn’t scary.”
“It’s not the room I’m afraid of,” she said. “Why are we in here?”
“I’m gonna teach you how to use my gun.”
She gaped at him. “You’re joking.”
“Do I look like I’m joking? There’s nothing else to do, and I feel like blowing off some steam. Besides, do you know how sexy you’re gonna be shooting something?”
She wasn’t so sure about it. “I don’t think your father would want me to touch a gun after I touched his.”
“You touched Nunzio’s,” Carmine said, matter-of-fact. “He didn’t get mad about that, did he?”
“I was protecting myself.”
“Well, this is the same thing,” he said. “You never know when you might need to know how to shoot to protect yourself.”
She just stared at him, so he pulled out his phone and dialed a number. “Hey, I’m taking Haven with me shooting. You told me to tell you if I ever did anything like it, so this is me telling you.”
He hung up, and she sighed, resigned. So persistent. “Okay, but why are we in here?”
Carmine pulled the rug out of the way and opened the trap door in the floor. “Targets. Ammunition. Safety shit, like ear protectors and glasses. Depending on your mood, maybe a bulletproof vest for me.”
She gaped at him. “I’d never shoot you.”
“I know. Not intentionally, anyway.”
She cautiously walked over to the entrance to the basement, and Carmine held her hand as they started down the narrow steps. “Terra di contrabbando,” he said when they reached the bottom. “Welcome to the land of contraband.”
Her eyes swept across the large concrete room, taking in the massive crates. “Everything down here is illegal?”
“Not all of it is illegal, but it’s all pretty fucking unsavory,” he said, glancing around. “The front ones are mainly alcohol.”
“What about the ones in the back?”
“Come on, I’ll show you.”
She followed behind him for a bit, coming to a halt when the guns came into view. Nearly a hundred of them hung on the wall in neat rows. “Whoa.”
Carmine sighed, digging through some boxes behind her as she gaped at the weapons. Her heart rate spiked, her skin crawling. Carmine pulled out supplies and tried to hand them to her, but she wasn’t paying him a bit of attention.
“What can I say? My father loves his weapons.” Carmine opened a cabinet and pulled out a box of bullets. “But you already knew that.”
She tore her eyes away from them. “Yeah.”
“You don’t have to be afraid of guns, though,” he said. “It’s the dumbasses with their fingers on the triggers that you have to worry about. As long as you stay away from them, there’s no problem.”
She glanced back at the wall of weapons, mulling over his words. He made it seem so simple. “What else is down here?”
“More guns, a shitload of casino chips, the dungeon…”
She turned back to him, her eyes wide. Dungeon? “Uh, okay, then. Are we done now?”
* * * *
It took the two of them nearly an hour to reach their destination, a wide open space tucked into the woods. The ground was covered in an array of purple, yellow, and red wildflowers, a line of tall pine trees surrounding it like nature had deliberately made a fence.
Carmine dropped his backpack to the ground and stood there as Haven scanned the area, a look of awe on her face. “It’s beautiful.”
“Yeah, it’s nice,” he said as he pulled out the stuff and set up a target. Standing behind Haven, Carmine positioned her body and grabbed his pistol. He put his arms around her and held the gun, explaining the safety and that she had seven rounds plus one in the chamber. He told her to keep it steady and use her foresight to focus on the target, blocking everything out and going into a trance.
Once she seemed to get it, he handed her the earmuffs and safety glasses to put on. Taking a step away, he watched her aim, her hands shaking as she squeezed the trigger. He flinched as she popped off her first round, the recoil and expelled cartridge startling her. She screamed and nearly dropped the gun, while he stared at the target—she hadn’t even come close.
He put his arms around her again, holding the pistol firmly with her hands on top of his. They fired off the rest of the rounds that way and she seemed to relax. After reloading, he handed her the gun and gave her some room. The first shot breezed by the target, closer that time, but her hands still shook.
She glanced at him, and he smiled, silently urging her on.
He ended up reloading the gun twice, not a single bullet hitting its intended spot. She was coming close, though, her eyes twinkling with excitement every time she squeezed the trigger. He tried to imagine how she felt wielding something so powerful, the adrenaline that had to be surging through her veins making his heart jolt.
After finally hitting the target after the third reload, Haven shouted and turned to face him. In her excitement, she forgot to lower the gun and aimed it at his forehead. Carmine ducked, throwing his hands up protectively. “Watch what you’re fucking doing!”
She lowered the gun. “I’m so sorry!”
Dropping his hands, he shook his head. “You never aim a loaded gun at anyone unless you’re willing to shoot that motherfucker.”
She nodded in understanding and turned away, firing a round that grazed the target. She smiled, trying to hold in her excitement. Sighing, Carmine walked up behind her and placed his hands on her hips. He pulled off the earmuffs and tossed them on the ground before lining her back up to the target. “You’re doing really good.”
She aimed with a look of determination on her face. He could feel her body tense in anticipation, her muscles firm and arms vibrating as she pulled the trigger.
He placed a light kiss on her earlobe without thinking, and she whimpered. Losing focus, she squeezed the trigger, and a round echoed through the trees.
“Oops,” she said as birds squawked in the distance.
He laughed and nuzzled into her neck. “I shouldn’t have distracted you, but better the birds than me.”
The walk home was a lot harder than Carmine ever remembered the walk to the clearing being. By the time the house came into view, the sun was starting to set and he was utterly exhausted. The two of them headed for the stairs, but he didn’t even make it to the second floor when there was a knock at the door.
Sighing, he turned to head back down. “I’ll be up in a minute.”
Haven continued upstairs as he disabled the alarm and opened the door to find Max standing there. “What’s up?”
“Hey, is your dad home?”
“No. He’s in Chicago until tomorrow.”
“Shit, I needed to give something to him,” he said, reaching into his pocket for an envelope.
“I can take it for you,” Carmine said, holding out his hand. He didn’t even want to know what type of business Max had with his father. Max only dealt to save money for school, which alleviated some of Carmine’s guilt when he got drugs from him. He felt like he was doing it for a good cause, like he was participating in a coke-a-thon to send a deserving kid to the Ivy League.
“Thanks, man. I told him I’d have it to him, and well, I don’t want to be late with shit for your father.”
“I’ll make sure he gets it.”
Carmine took the envelope and said goodbye to Max before closing the door. He went into the office under the stairs again and took the large painting off the wall, exposing the safe underneath. He pulled out his keys and stuck the small golden one into the lock, punchi
ng in the code as he turned it. The safe unlocked, and a folder slipped out as soon as he opened it. Papers spilled out onto the floor. Bending down to pick them up, the word Antonelli caught his eye on one of the papers. He froze, a coldness washing through him when he read ‘genetic testing’ written across the top.
His mind worked fast as he debated what to do. Time was ticking away, his opportunity dwindling with every second. Curiosity overrode his logic as he grabbed the test results and glanced through them.
Besides Haven’s, there were no names, but it indicated a conclusive mtDNA match from somewhere. Written along the side, in his father’s messy scrawl, were the words ‘CODIS partial match confirmed’. Carmine was kicking himself for not paying more attention in science class, scouring his brain for what that could mean.
He heard footsteps approaching as Haven called his name. He shoved the papers back into the folder. Placing the manila envelope in the safe, he locked it back up before walking out to meet her in the foyer.
Carmine woke up later that night to loud noises. He heard a door slam on the floor below, and the bed shifted as Haven sat up, wide-eyed. “What was that?”
“I have no fucking clue,” he said, glancing at the clock to see it was three in the morning. He kicked off the comforter and climbed out of the bed when he heard heavy footsteps outside in the library. Dread hit him at the core as the knob turned and the door flung open. Haven yelped as Vincent appeared in the doorway.
Even in the darkness, his rage was obvious.
“Go to your room, girl,” he said, not even bothering to look in Haven's direction. He didn’t take his eyes off Carmine as she bolted out of the room. “What's wrong with you? Do you have a death wish?”
No matter what answer Carmine gave, it would be wrong.
“I thought you were smarter than this. Did you honestly think what you did today was a good idea? You can’t be that dense!”
“I called you,” Carmine said. “I left a message. It's not my fault you didn’t answer your damn phone.”
Vincent narrowed his eyes. “You called me? What if I would’ve answered and told you ‘no’? Would you have still done it? Of course you would’ve! You can’t seem to get a grasp on reality! And I know you’re up to something, son. I know you, but I’m telling you right now—whatever it is won't work.”
Carmine said not a word.
“I don’t want you stepping foot in my office or the basement again. You have no business in there anymore. And I know what you saw, too. What you read. I can’t begin to imagine what ideas are floating around in that head of yours, but don’t dare act on it. Whatever it is, don’t do it. There are people who will kill you if they find out you have any knowledge about this.”
Vincent started pacing, muttering to himself. “If you weren’t turning eighteen soon, I’d send you back to the academy tomorrow. I already have half a mind to get rid of the girl.”
“You aren’t gonna do a goddamn thing to her,” Carmine said. “You’re gonna leave her alone.”
“Who do you think you are telling me what to do? I’ll do anything I want with her! Have you not been listening to me? You’re going to get yourself killed! You may not care about your life, but I can’t let you throw it away. I’ll do whatever I have to do to make sure that doesn’t happen, even if it means her being collateral damage.”
Carmine’s hands shook. He clenched them into fists, those words driving him to the brink. “Fuck you! I’ll kill you if you ever hurt her again!”
“Maybe you will,” Vincent said. “In fact, I don’t doubt it, but at least your mother’s sole will still have his light. She would’ve never wanted you involved in this.”
“Don’t bring my mom into this and use her as an excuse to justify your bullshit! I love her. You need to accept that!”
“I can’t!” Vincent stepped toward him. “You don’t know what you’re doing! You’re just a child, Carmine.”
“I may be seventeen, but I’m not a child. I haven’t been a child since I got shot because of you!”
“You don’t know what you’re saying. You don’t know the devastation that girl has inflicted on my life! Just look at us! Look what she’s causing!”
“She’s not causing it, you are! You’re the one that brought us into this life! You paid money for her—for a fucking child—and you wanna blame her for this?”
Vincent shook his head. “I was trying to help her! I’ve done everything I could for that girl, and none of it is enough. Nothing is ever enough! It’s impossible! You don’t know how much I’ve already suffered because of that little bitch!”
The moment that word escaped his lips, Carmine’s composure slipped. His fist connected with his father’s mouth. Vincent stumbled, not expecting to be struck. “Don’t call her that!”
Before Carmine even realized his father had moved, Vincent was on him. He slammed him into the wall, shoving everything off the table beside the bed. The force of the blow knocked the wind out of Carmine. He gasped for air as his father pinned him against the desk.
There was another commotion as Dominic burst into the room. “What the hell?”
Dominic grabbed his father’s shoulder. It seemed to register with Vincent what he was doing, and he quickly removed his hands. Backing away, he swiped his fingers across his bloody mouth. “Why couldn’t trust me, Carmine? Why couldn’t you let me handle this?”
“Why couldn’t you give me a good reason to?”
“Trying to keep you safe isn’t a good reason?”
Carmine didn’t even hesitate. “My safety means nothing compared to hers.”
* * * *
Standing in the doorway of Carmine’s bedroom, Haven surveyed the damage from the fight. Carmine grumbled to himself as he opened his desk drawer, grabbing a bottle of liquor and taking a drink. He grimaced as he pulled it from his lips and kicked the desk drawer closed. Plopping down in the chair, he stared at the floor in the darkened room.
Haven crouched down beside the bed to pick up things that had been knocked over. She plugged the alarm clock in and tried to set it, but she gave up with the numbers still flashing twelve.
Grabbing the picture frame from the floor, she winced as a shard of the broken glass stabbed her thumb. Blood oozed from the cut as she set it down on the desk.
“Christ, you’re bleeding,” Carmine said. He tried to grab her hand, but she pulled away.
“You broke the picture frame,” she said, picking more things off of the floor.
Carmine groaned as he stood up. “Would you just stop cleaning? None of that shit is important!”
Haven flinched from him. “It is important. It’s your mama.”
She tried to fight back her tears as she continued picking up the rest of the stuff, having no idea what else to do. Frustrated, Carmine snatched the bottle of liquor from the desk and flung it at the wall. It shattered, glass and alcohol spraying everywhere.
Haven closed her eyes as her tears slipped through, flashes of memory striking her as hard as fists. Michael’s anger, the shattered glass and revolting stench of spilled liquor.
“You’re worthless,” he’d screamed, spitting the words at her so many times she even heard it in her sleep. “You can’t do anything right, girl! You’re the worst thing I ever did!”
She reopened her eyes, watching the annoyance fade from Carmine’s face. “I shouldn’t be yelling at you. None of this is your fault.”
“It is,” she said quietly. “I’m tearing your family apart.”
Carmine knelt beside her, grabbing a notebook and tossing it on his desk. “This family was torn apart when my mom was killed, so unless you wanna take credit for that, you can drop that bullshit.”
Haven lay in bed with Carmine later, running her fingers along his swollen knuckles. Guilt ran rampant through her. No matter what he said, she still felt like she’d caused it.
She didn’t sleep much. The peace she’d found over the weeks was suddenly tainted. Carmine was in and out of con
sciousness for a while, thrashing around with nightmares again.
Sometime later she climbed out of bed and headed downstairs in a daze. She pulled things out for Easter dinner, going through the motions like she’d been taught to do. She glanced out the window briefly as the sun started rising and noticed the Mercedes wasn’t parked in its usual spot. She wondered if there was even a point in cooking with Dr. DeMarco gone but pushed the thought aside, knowing the others would still eat it.
The morning flew by quickly, morphing into afternoon, before eventually shifting into early evening. The boys made their way downstairs around noon, both of them somber in their own way. There was a tension lingering in the house, but she was too exhausted to deal with what it meant.
She stood in front of the stove while Carmine sat on the counter, staring at her. Dominic bounded into the room and reached by her, grabbing one of the deviled eggs she’d made. She glanced at him briefly before going back to cooking.
“You feeling alright today, Haven?”
“Yes.”
“You sure? Because I took some food, and you didn’t hit me.”
“She’s on autopilot,” Carmine said. “Happy Easter to us all.”
She said nothing, a faint sound outside drawing her attention. Glancing out the window, she stared at Dr. DeMarco’s car as it came to a stop.
Carmine leapt down from the counter and wrapped his arms around her protectively when the front door opened, and Dr. DeMarco headed their way. There was silence, the tension in the house escalating as the footsteps entered the kitchen.
Dr. DeMarco paused a foot from them, his voice strained. “Let me see your hand, Carmine.”
“Excuse me?”
“You put too much stress on your fourth and fifth fingers. I’ll be surprised if you didn’t fracture them.”
“Fuck you.”
Dominic sighed exasperatedly. “Just let him look at your hand and get it over with.”
