Son of a Mobster (Criminal Desires)

by Jennie Lyne Hiott

  The rainbow haired henchman pulled a card-like package from his back pocket.

  “Now, we’re talking, but I still want that beer.”

  TEN

  (Jessie)

  IT WAS TIME, I PRESSURED myself to turn the knob. My old bedroom awaited, filled with the toys I had been so fond of. I stepped inside. Gazed and I found a room that was much different than I remembered. It wasn’t the room of a little girl at all.

  “Becca.” On the bed, my favorite doll smiled back, confirming the room had belonged to me. I scooped her up and held her like a real baby. The old rag felt heavier than I recalled.

  Across the room, a vanity table was covered with cosmetics and brushes, necklaces hung on hooks and a few pieces of costume jewelry resided in a small odd shaped dish, handmade by an amateur hand.

  I didn’t recognize it. I picked it up, carefully placed its contents to the side and examined its rough detail with my fingers. It was a pretty color. Somewhere between blue and black. Actually, I think it was navy, but it had little bubbles of white, green and purple.

  I turned it over and rubbed my finger over the letters that were forever baked into the dish.

  S&S I love you always.

  It must have been a yard sale find. My mother had always been fond of those. I shrugged and replaced it.

  I sat in the chair and opened drawers, intrigued by the girl who had once lived in the room, but I found no pictures, no diary, nothing that explained why the room was different.

  I gazed at my image in the mirror, distorted by grime. I reached out a hand and wiped it away, then studied the bump beneath my fingertips. Yellowed tape, torn in half as if what it held in place had been ripped away. There were several places with the same residue. There had been pictures or other mementos, but I guess I’d taken them down for some reason.

  I ventured into my parents’ room next and threw back the curtains revealing large bay windows. I gazed the room and I touched an old pair of trousers that hung on the back of a chair. Everything was the same as if time had frozen a snapshot of the lives that had been away so long, waiting for them to return.

  A book sat opened and face down on one night stand. My mother loved to read romantic stories as I did. Her private collection sat on a shelf next to her dresser and the bottom shelf contained my mother’s scrapbooks – or used to but it seemed many were missing.

  I sat Indian style on the floor. My mother had loved her camera, snapping pictures even when nothing special was going on and she loved making those books. Annuals with artfully drawn dates on their binders cataloged my Mom’s life from her sixteenth year to her first year of marriage. There should have been more. I remember her working on them through my entire childhood, but only one more book, laying on its side was present.

  My book. The one that cataloged my life. There were so many of my childhood self. My first tooth was there. A strand of hair from my first haircut. Pictures of every birthday and milestones in between until right before the accident – but as I turned the pages I noticed that pages had been torn out. I flipped back and inspected what I had looked at and noticed a few more places where something had been torn out and bare places on existing pages where pictures had once been pasted.

  It was heartbreaking. The photos that laid on my lap seemed to be all that was left. That and the one memory that remained locked behind my eyes.

  I often saw my mother in her last moments. I recalled sirens and the hissing sound the rain made when it had contacted the hot engine. I remembered the pain, both the physical and the mental vividly. I couldn’t look anymore.

  There were just so many things in the home I was unready to face and it was true, there were rooms that I had never unlocked. On the way to the bedroom I shared with Josh I stopped.

  “That son of a bitch!” I exclaimed after seeing the door at the end of the hall was slightly ajar. I went to it and inspected. It had been pried open. I groaned angrily. It was the one place in the home that I had asked Josh not to enter. I had never cared if he wanted to investigate the other rooms, but the attic, my father’s office, was the room I wished to remain private and available only to me – when I was ready.

  I stared up the narrow staircase and took the first step, paused and came back again. Every time I had tried to enter the attic, I found myself unable to. It was as if I thought the man was still up there and would be as long as I didn’t bother him. I knew it would be even harder since Josh’s raid. Just imagining my father’s organized sanctuary toppled and searched was unbearable. I knew what he thought was up there and how important he thought it was, but it still hurt that he had gone through it against my wishes. Did he have no respect for me at all? Where was the guy who had won my heart? Had he ever existed? Had it all been a game?

  ~ ♥ ~

  I packed Josh’s things that night and delivered them to Zorreli’s.

  “Jessie?” I found Josh by the pool table with his hands resting on the hips of Marcy Preston.

  “By all means, continue.” I snapped setting two large suitcases on the pool table. “You’re not my problem anymore.”

  “What’s this?” He leaned against the table and brought a bottle to his lips.

  “What’s it look like?” I snapped. “And don’t bother returning – I changed the locks.”

  Josh jumped off the railing. “You what? Jessie – why? Is this about the other night? You know I didn’t mean that.”

  “Save it. You’re not the man I fell in love with.”

  “Have I really been that bad?” Sweet and calm, but he was only pretending to be apologetic for his eyes bored into me, radiating venom as he urged me to submit to his desires.

  “You know you have.” Our entire history was plagued with moments where I had surrendered to avoid an altercation, but I decided that it solved nothing and I stood my ground. No more excuses. No more waiting for him to change. “The man I knew opened the door for me. He kissed me good morning,” I ranted “Held my hand in public … spent hours talking to me, but you … you are not that man. I’m living with a stranger.”

  “Maybe I’m not the one who changed,” he said in a soft tone, but the hardness in his eyes insulted me. The swift modification of his personality no longer bowled me over and I compared him to the light bulb in the room. Dark one moment. Light the next. Fluctuating with each click of the wall switch.

  “I’m done talking about this. Perhaps the time apart would do us some good,” I snapped. “Maybe not having me around every day waiting on you hand and foot will wake you up. There are supposed to be two people in a relationship and lately, I’ve been the only one in it.”

  Josh grabbed my arm as I passed, swinging my body forcefully. His muscles twitched, but his lips moved up and down repeatedly until his words finally escaped. “You really are my whole life, Baby.” He placed his arms around my waist and forced sweet words with a growl. “I need you.”

  “No, what you needed was a slave, access to my home and what you think is in the attic. I may have been naïve when we met, but I see it all clearly now.” I broke free of his grasp. “It’s over!”

  “That’s it? You’re really going to throw everything we’ve had away, just like that?”

  “Let’s see – I’ll be living alone. I’ll have no one to talk to and I’ll be eating dinner by myself. Let me think, oh wait – I already do that now.”

  “And just how do you think you’re going to pay the bills to keep your precious memorial. Huh? Face it. You need me.”

  “I don’t need you or your money.” I stormed toward the door, ignoring his co-workers who had never taken their eyes off of us. I got to the door and stopped. I smirked and looked over my shoulder. “Oh, and by the way. What you’re looking for isn’t in the attic.”

  ~ ♥ ~

  I pulled an old rusted clunker into the weed-threaded parking lot of an apartment complex a few hours later. I needed a change. A different life and a place where Josh wouldn’t constantly harass me.

  A
month had passed since our break up and he showed up at my door every single day. He begged for me to let him – then demanded – then forcefully entered my home and refused to leave for hours. He followed me everywhere I went. Confronting me about that item he wanted. At the park. At the store and he’d even cost me my job. I couldn’t handle it anymore. Nothing was worth all of that. I didn’t give a damn about the money or the things he could buy me. I didn’t care that I couldn’t afford to pay the bills in my own home. Luxury wasn’t worth the heartache.

  I had never lived my own life before and I headed towards the next chapter with high hopes but the air choked out me the minute I laid eyes on the old brick building. It looked as though it could be condemned at any given moment. I had never lived anywhere so – desolate.

  To the side of the main entrance stood a small group, each member wearing their colors proudly and their stares locked on the stranger that dared enter their sacred locale. Still, I strolled toward the entrance with a red duffle in my hand and a tattered backpack slung over my shoulder, refusing to cast my eyes to my feet.

  “You lost, baby?” A curly haired man laughed, sparking eyes of contempt from the woman he had his arm around.

  “I’m not your baby,” I snapped, then pushed open a bullet-hole incised door, stepped into a shadowy interior and inhaled fusty air.

  I had expected to find an office, but instead, my eyes fell on a man slouched at the base of a staircase using a dirty coat for a blanket, but he was the least reprehensive sight in the entry way compared to the time-yellowed and dirty tile. Discarded clothes, shoes, and broken children’s toys littered the space. The paint was smeared extra thick on the walls, an obvious and unsuccessful attempt to conceal the scrapes and dents of the previous layer.

  I wandered to the nearest apartment and stared at the number one painted in sloppy red paint, it’s excess dripped half way down the door, bestowing no welcome, but I knocked softly anyway and hoped its occupant could offer the information I sought.

  “What do you want?” The growl protruded before the door was thrust ajar. I sucked in a gasp and tried not to stare at the straggly haired man’s black front teeth.

  “I’m sorry to bother you, um – I need a place to stay and I was hoping – “

  He twisted his skinny frame and reached behind the door.

  “Only got one apartment,” his annoyed tone never faded. “It’s two hundred and eighty a month. If you ain’t got the cash, don’t waste my time.”

  I swallowed hard and retrieved a handful of crumpled bills from my pocket and briefly attempted to straighten them before counting them out on his calloused palm. He recounted the money, let out a grunt and distributed a single key adorned with a bread tie key chain.

  “Third floor. Three-fourteen and don’t lose that key because you ain’t getting another one.” Before my appreciation could be uttered, I was left staring at the cracked wooden door. My jaw hung in complete awe of his rudeness. The blinds were up and I was forced to see how naive and inexperienced I truly was. I was tough and smart mouthed where I was from, but the badlands of Demora harbored people who survived without the daily necessities I had never had to worry about a day in my life.

  At the base of the stairwell, I carefully skipped over the long legs and worn boots of the sleeping vagrant, then I swatted away a rogue cobweb and eyed the steep stairs, tempted to give into the doubts that echoed in my thoughts. Instead, I forced myself to proceed and placed a cautious foot on the next step, listening as it cringed and complained under my weight, then took all fourteen swiftly, afraid that they would divide and send me falling beneath them.

  “Shit!” I yelped when a large rat scurried past my on the third-floor landing. I waited for it to slip into its hole, then proceeded.

  The loud cries of a baby and a couple shrieking and threatening each other immediately filled my ears. As I moved on I could hear the faint thump, thump, thump of someone’s radio and nearly passed the apartment I had rented, thanks to missing numbers. Only a darker imprint where the metal plates had been remained, sticking out like a sore thumb amidst the faded wood door.

  Inside, a sparsely furnished one-bedroom apartment, complete with cracked and peeling paint on the wood paneled walls made me wrinkle my nose. It did look like the cheapest place possible to rent and nothing like the cozy residence had I fictionalized. It smelled like it as well, yet the scent was oddly familiar, but I couldn’t place it.

  Further inspection didn’t help my first impression. The mantle above the old fireplace was missing a big chunk on its corner and what was left looked like someone had dug a sharp object into it several times. Two large stains in the far corners of the room confirmed my suspicions of water damage and I wondered if it would still leak when it rained.

  A tattered sofa was positioned between two doors that I assumed were closets, but I soon found that one led to a small bathroom. I poked my head in and again curled my nose. There was no shower, only a stained and chipped claw foot tub. There was a tiny sink that had thick, brown ring around it and a toilet that looked as if it had not been cleaned in a decade.

  Knock! Knock!

  I opened the door expecting to find a friendly neighbor wanting to welcome me. No one else knew where I was.

  “How did you find me?”

  “I’m not going to say I’m sorry that things didn’t work out with you and Tucker. You know, sometimes I do know what I’m talking about.” Rick Cornell entered and gazed around with a sour expression.

  “You tracked me down to tell me I told you so?”

  “I came to talk you out of – this.” He shook his head in disgust. “So this is the plan?”

  “Yeah.” I flopped down on the sofa and held a worn yellow pillow against my chest. I took a deep breath. “Here.”

  “What’s this?”

  “The mortgage on Magnolia.”

  “Jessie?”

  “I can’t afford to keep it and I don’t want the bank to foreclose and sell it to some stranger.” I took out a loan on my home to pay for expensive treatment so Josh could walk again after the attack. Just one more thing I regretted doing for love that was never returned.

  Rick sat down and pinched the bridge of his nose. “You don’t have to do this – you don’t have to live here, Jess.”

  “I need to do this.”

  “I don’t like it. I have no problem helping …”

  “I’ve had help my whole life. It’s time for me to make my own way.”

  “But do you have to start out this low?”

  I laughed and threw my arms around his neck. “You worry way too much.”

  “Well, I guess since I can’t change your mind – I got you a good luck present.” He held up a thin white gold chain with a tiny diamond pendant. I held up my hair and let him fasten it around my neck.

  “It’s beautiful.”

  “Never take it off.” He kissed my forehead and headed for the door.

  “Uncle Rick?”

  “Yeah.” He paused in the exit.

  “I went into my old room. It doesn’t look the same.” Suddenly, I felt like a little girl and I couldn’t understand, feeling just as I did when I had awoken and found a stranger staring back at me in the mirror.

  “Different how?” My Godfather stared at his shoes, seemingly uncomfortable by my question, just as he had been at my bedside the day I awoke from the coma.

  “I don’t know. It looks more like – a teenager’s room.”

  “That’s right.” He closed his eyes as he spoke, seeming to recall the past. “I think Alex was complaining about how much Kathleen was spending on redecorating your room – I think it was right before – maybe a month or so. You were thirteen, Sweetheart.” He gave a half smile,

  “I thought I was ten?”

  “You remembered being ten. You were thirteen when the accident happened and you were trying to grow up so fast … I really need to get back to work – and Jessie?”

  “Yeah, Pops.” A name I rar
ely called him and I watched him shake away his smile so he could again be serious.

  “You shouldn’t have to hide from any man.”

  “I’m not hiding. I’m moving on.”

  ELEVEN

  (Sean)

  REGRET. IT WAS NOTHING NEW. My life was full of it. But I had never been vulnerable before. I had my ways of dealing but maybe I had screwed up too much this time.

  Mary Jane had proved to be an effective pain reliever combined with my usual drink, turning my body to mush, making my face feel numb and my mind feel like it was floating – somewhere – close? I hoped.

  That afternoon’s mistake left my belly feeling like a hollow log that urged me to devour everything I could get my hands on. No one was around to run De’Bris grill. It was too early in the day, yet late by normal standards. I was starving and there was nothing in reach!

  I took a deep breath. Straightened my shirt. Hoisted my shoulders and tried to conceal my intoxication. The stumbling ceased – in my mind – and I victoriously grasped the large metal handle of the diner’s door. I shoved it inward with no triumph. Again I shoved, trying to enter the establishment nestled between a pornographic video vendor and a second-hand clothing store, but I couldn’t gain access! What the hell?

  My eyesight blurred. In defeat, I pressed my forehead against the cold glass. The diner wasn’t closed. Was it? Damn, I wished I had stayed at De’Bris instead of tripping down the sidewalk to find a mid-day snack. Damn. I was never going to find something to eat.

  “Pull,” I read the square sticker. “Ah-ha!” The problem was solved and I leaned back, still holding tight to the handle and swung with the glass and metal frame.

  The woman behind the counter glared with arms folded across her chest – an obvious witness to my blunder.

  “Do you have a bathroom?” My bladder complained about the amount of liquid satisfaction I had drowned myself in.

  “You buy first,” The tiny lady snapped. She must have been one of those outsiders who washed up on the shore because I sure didn’t hear that Oriental accent every day – except in movies – and I suddenly lost the ability to hide how comical I found her speech.