MOBSTER’S BABY_Esposito Family Mafia

by Nicole Fox

  “Whatever you want, boss,” he said.

  The meeting went on.

  Afterwards, I found Brig at the bar. He was nursing a whiskey. I sat beside him.

  “If you’re looking for an apology, I’m not giving your annoying ass one,” he said. I shrugged.

  “Who says I came looking for apologies, any fucking way? I wanted a drink.”

  He grunted.

  “Listen,” I said. I stopped there, until he looked over at me.

  “What?”

  “I get you’re worried, all right? I get you have doubts about Misha’s story. But she’s back, okay? And regardless, she was still taken. She still had to deal with that shit. I don’t know … I don’t know if it’s all the truth, but they faked all of that just to get her, just to make me snap. They gotta pay in some way, okay?”

  “I get that. We don’t want war, though.”

  “Nah, but if I can do whatever I can to keep them fucks from being on top, and knowing their place, then I’ll do it. But I need my brother beside me. You gonna be that, man?”

  Brig rolled his eyes, but I could tell he was about to crack.

  “I should tell you no, you know.”

  “But you’re not.”

  “No, I’m not, because I’m obviously some special kind of stupid. Whatever. I’ll tone it down, okay? But watch your fuckin’ back. Something’s brewing, some fucking where. I can feel it. We’re in for one hell of a storm.”

  # # #

  C-O-N-G-R-A-T-U-L-A-T-I-O-N-S-M-I-S-H-A-!

  The banner was strung all the wayacross over the bar. There were balloons and streamers and ribbons everywhere, perfect for a party.

  I was fucking nervous.

  Trixie had suggested this whole thing. Honestly? I wouldn’t have thought about it. It seemed like a whole lot of effort for something like getting a job, but Trixie had insisted there was something that I had to make up for. What? Couldn’t tell a soul, since Trixie hadn’t told me. She’d only given me a list of supplies, a date, and the instruction that I better make it good or she’d cut off my balls.

  Considering the fact that she liked them so much, the threat was concerning.

  I enlisted the help of the boys while Trixie took Misha out on a ‘girls’ date’ or whatever. I didn’t know about that stuff, and I didn’t ask. It did mean that, while we were setting up, I was in charge of Rose.

  “Mr. Trip?”

  I looked down at her, tugging lightly on the edge of my kutte. Neither Misha nor I had told her about me yet. I still wasn’t sure how to interact with the little girl, and simply hadn’t, not a lot. It didn’t seem to bother Misha—at least in the sense that she hadn’t said anything yet.

  I smiled down at Rose, though, trying not to be floored like I usually was at how much she looked like me.

  “Yeah? Whatcha need?”

  “Miss Trixie helped me pick out a present for Mama, but I need help wrapping it up …”

  From behind her back, she showed me a tiny butterfly pendant. It looked like one of the kind you could get from Walmart, but it was pretty and dainty and it was Misha’s favorite color—green.

  I smiled.

  “Sure. You got a bag and some tissue paper?”

  “Uh huh.”

  “Okay. Let me show you.”

  I didn’t pay attention to the fact that the boys were watching me as Rose led me back to the back room that she and Misha still shared. Even working, Misha didn’t have enough money to move out—though I wasn’t keen on forcing her out, either. Rose pulled out a little bag and an unwrapped selection of tissue papers in green and white. Girl knew her mama well.

  “All right. Here’s what you’re gonna do …”

  By the time the two of us were done, there was something kind of like a decently packaged bag. There was a lot of tape—and I mean a lot of it—but I didn’t think that was too shabby. Mostly.

  “You think it looks okay, Mr. Trip?” Rose held onto my hand tight as I led her out of the room and back into the front to drop her present with the others that were there for Misha. Boys in kuttes and girls in skirts were slowly pouring into the bar, courtesy of invite. Music was starting.

  I looked down at Rose.

  “Say … When your mama comes here, can you do me a favor?”

  Rose nodded at me fervently.“Yes! What is it, Mr. Trip?”

  “Tell her to meet me in my office. I have a surprise for her, too, but I want to give it to her in private, okay?”

  “Okay! Is it a present, too?”

  “It is. But it’s a secret, so you can’t tell her it’s a present, just that it’s something that’s for her. You think you can do that for me?” I topped the question off with a wink. She wiggled around a little, delight.

  “Yes, Mr. Trip!”

  “Awesome. Thanks, sweetheart.”

  Her face reddened and she beamed at me before trotting off to Travis, presumably to tell him about her present to her mother. I watched, not able to help the smile that came to my face.

  Damn. That little girl was mine. How the hell had I helped create something as magical as her? Had to chalk it up to Misha’s genes; li’l thing wasn’t shit like me, aside from the eyes.

  With that, I went back to my office, waiting. I hadn’t told anyone I was getting Misha something. I wanted it to be a total surprise, and I knew the boys were shit at keeping secrets. They were just like women sometimes; got some sort of hair up their ass about good gossip and it was spread all over the bar like fucking wildfire.

  “Trip?”

  There was a knock at my door that went with the voice. Her voice. I straightened up.

  “Aye, yeah. Come in.”

  Misha pushed my office door open, popping her head in before sliding in apprehensively. We hadn’t talked much since we’d fucked; I couldn’t really blame her, I guessed, though it was frustrating nonetheless. I pushed down those frustrations, though, and gestured across from me.

  “Go on and sit.”

  She did so.

  “Did you organize all that out there?” she asked, nodding her head. “It’s insane.”

  “Well … to be fair, Trixie was the one that brought it up. I thought it was a good idea, though. Celebrate your new job and you being back in the fold and alive and all.” I said it casually, as if it were just another welcome home party. Misha raised one of her brows, but there was a tiny little smirk that tugged the corner of her lips.

  “I appreciate it either way, Trip. You didn’t have to do that.”

  “But I wanted to.”

  She shifted in her seat as I kept my eyes on her. There was a lot that I wanted. This, her happiness, her. I wondered if she could feel it in the way I looked at her.

  She squirmed.

  Obviously, she did.

  I smirked a little, but didn’t let her see too much of it as I ducked down, opening one of the drawers to my desk. Inside was a sealed envelope, thick with paper and weighted by something inside. It had Misha’s name on it, penned shakily. I slid it over to her. She seemed confused.

  “Trip, what—”

  Her words stopped when she got a look at the writing. Her hand came to her chest.

  “D-daddy …”

  “He wrote that after you were taken,” I said. “He was going to bury it in the memorial—”

  “There’s a memorial?” she interrupted sharply, though I could hear the tears in her voice even though they had yet to fall. I nodded.

  “Yeah. We—your father, the boys, and I and some people from town—set it up. He was going to bury it there, but never had the heart to do it.”

  “Why wasn’t I told about this?”

  “It’s not like we’ve had a lot of time or opportunity to sit down and talk about this shit, Misha.”And you don’t sit still long enough for us to talk as it is.

  I kept my words to myself as she swallowed and looked back down at the unopened letter. She eyed it, as if afraid.

  “Has anyone else read this?” she asked.
>
  I shook my head. “No one’s opened that envelope. It’s as closed as the day your father licked the seal shut, Misha.”

  Slowly, her finger slid into the fold, tearing along it. It gave fairly easily; the letter was old and the paper dry—I hadn’t let anything get to that letter in the five years it’d been since it was written.

  I sat back and watched as Misha pulled the letter out. There was still something in the bottom of it, but she didn’t pull it out yet. Instead, she read. The tears she had been holding back slowly but surely began to well, and then they started to fall the more she read those words. She didn’t sob; Misha wasn’t that kind of woman. But I knew that it took a lot to make her cry, and her father’s last words were so very clearly capable of that.

  I let her read, and when she was done, she folded the letter up and held it to her chest. She fished the trinket from inside the envelope. It was a delicate silver chain with a small pendant stone dangling from it. I recognized it from our childhood; her mother used to wear it, and her mother before her, and so on. It was an heirloom after Misha’s mother passed away when she was ten or so. It was something incredibly significant and cherished.

  Misha slid it around her neck. When she got up, I figured she was leaving, not wanting to stay in my presence while she was like that. I was surprised when she came over to me, leaned over me, and kissed me.

  She’d grabbed the front of my shirt to pull me close to her. I slammed my hands on the top of my desk to steady myself before I stood to full height. It just made her stand on her tiptoes and wrap her arms around me. Mine did the same.

  The press of her body against mine was more than welcome. Her kisses were open and desperate and so the fuck were mine. I moaned against her as I held her. There was nothing better than it.

  She rocked against me, and I groaned. It was so easy to get me wanting her. I’d have felt bad had she not whined and ground against me again. It made me jolt against her and back her against the desk.

  I wanted to rip off her clothes. My fingers dug into the hem of her shirt and inched underneath it, feeling her sides and just the heat of her. I wanted to throw her down and fuck her—show her she didn’t need to cry. I was here. I was going to take care of her.

  I remembered how she’d left before though, and I knew that now wasn’t the time.

  This time, it was me that pulled away. Misha sniffled, and seemed to realize then as I rested my forehead against hers what she’d done.

  “Oh … Oh, Trip, I’m so sorry.”

  I hushed her by kissing her.

  “You’re fine,” I said. “More than fine, actually. But I know you’re not gonna want this right now, and there’s a whole lot of people out there that are gonna be waiting on us to get out there.” The implication was obvious—I knew she wouldn’t want people talking.

  She nodded. She wiped her eyes on her shirt and she nodded once more.

  “Yeah … yeah you’re right. But, Trip?” She bit her lip as she looked up at me with those big, pretty eyes of hers.

  “Yeah?”

  “Maybe … Sometime you’re not busy … We can just sit and talk or something? Like actually talk. Not the … whatever we’ve been doing lately.”

  I was shocked, and it took me a moment to answer. When I did, I barely sounded like myself. Voice all squeaky and everything, like I was a teenager cracking his voice again.

  “Yeah,” I managed to get out. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

  She smiled at me and pecked my cheek. She took my hand and pulled me out of the office, into the front. I was surprised that she kept her hand in mine, but I wasn’t going to complain and I wasn’t going to pull it away from her, either. I squeezed her hand and smiled as Rose came up and ran to her.

  “Mama! I got something for you.”

  Misha wrapped Rose in a one-armed hug—I was admittedly pleased with the fact that she hadn’t let go of my hand, in all honesty.

  “You got me something, baby?” she asked.

  “Uh huh! Mr. Trip helped me wrap it up!”

  Misha looked at me. “Did you now?”

  I shrugged with a smile.

  “I might have given direction.”

  Rose excitedly tugged us over to where Misha’s gifts were stockpiled. The boys had gone hard on her, and there was a decent stack of gifts. It was like Christmas.

  “You guys seriously didn’t need to do all of this,” Misha said as Rose dug for her gift. Misha eyed the presents in awe.

  “Of course we did!” Travis boomed. “It’s your welcome back slash congrats on your work party! Definitely requires presents. Think of it like five years of birthdays and shit, if that makes you feel better.”

  Misha laughed. God, I could live for that laugh.

  Rose brought over her gift for Misha. It was only then that she let go of my hand. I watched as she opened up the gift carefully, like it was the most precious thing to her. She beamed at the necklace inside.

  “Oh, sweetie, it’s lovely!”

  “You like it, Mama?”

  “I love it.”

  From there, it was mingling. I stayed close to Misha, and she didn’t shrug me off. I introduced her to a couple of new people that she hadn’t yet met, and she reconnected with a few people who had only recently heard about her mysterious return and the presence of Rose. For her sake, I was able to deflect most of the intrusive questions. After getting around, she turned to me.

  “I think I want a drink,” she said breathlessly. “There’s so many people here. I didn’t think most people would even care!”

  I laughed, leading her to the bar.

  “Of course they care. You weren’t hated or anything like that before you were taken. Come on. What you want? Something strong?”

  “Sure. We’re celebrating, aren’t we?”

  I order us both a whiskey.

  “Honestly, though, thank you, Trip.”

  “For what?”

  She gestured about.

  “All of this,” she said. “It … it feels like I’m back home, you know? I didn’t know if I would be able to feel like that ever again after everything and—”

  “Hey,” I said. I nudged her with my foot. “It’s fine, honestly. Least I could do. Besides, like I said … It was Trixie that thought of this whole master plan anyway. I just did her bidding.” I hung my head solemnly, though I smirked. She shoved a little at my shoulder.

  “Oh, poor you, at Trixie’s mercy. She’s barely my size.”

  “Hey, you small people are scary!”

  She laughed again, and took a drink. We smalltalked like that for a while, for the first time having a real ease about us. The diner … well, I supposed that had been close. But not close enough.

  When it came time for her to put Rose to bed, she came over to me. Rose gave me an unexpected hug.

  “Night, Mr. Trip,” she said sleepily.

  Misha disappeared into the back, tucking her in per their nightly routine. I hadn’t sat in on one yet. I wondered if I should go back there, but then thought against it. I nursed my drink. Things had gotten a little calmer. The music that was playing was softer. I hummed to the tune. It sounded familiar.

  “Looks like the boys are starting to tucker out.”

  I turned to Misha.

  “You want to dance?” I asked.

  She tilted her head at me. “Dance?”

  “Yeah. You know. Two to tango, all that jazz—”

  “You know nothing about tango or jazz.”

  I shrugged. “Perhaps. But the offer still stands.”

  She bit her lip, and looked out to the semi-empty bar with drinking patrons and Pride members. She smiled.“Sure.”

  I led her out to the floor. The song changed over, but it was still a little bit of a slow one. I took her in my arms and had her pressed up close to me. The scent of booze and the softness of her shampoo mixed together nicely; it was so very much a Misha thing. I laid my head on top of hers and she fitted against me with her face in my neck.
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  “I haven’t danced like this in a long time,” she breathed out.

  “Yeah. Neither have I.”

  It was the truth. I didn’t dance with women—not like this. If I danced, it was dirty, and it was with the intention of getting the girl nice and riled and ready to fuck.