by Gina LaManna
“I don’t particularly want to go to the police station, seeing as I work for Carlos. At the same time, I feel guilty letting a murderer walk around free.” I laid out my options to Anthony, who sat deep in thought.
“Are you one hundred percent convinced he did it?” Anthony asked after a long pause.
“I mean, he admitted to it.” I shrugged. “I didn’t exactly have time to do a lot of research. He fell into my lap about forty-five minutes ago.”
“And you still came for your training session?” Anthony’s eyebrow crooked with curiosity.
“I was afraid not to.”
Anthony leaned his head back and roared with laughter.
I let him have his fun for a few minutes before I punched him in the shoulder—the equivalent of smashing my knuckles against a brick wall—and told him to shape up.
“I’d hold onto him for a bit. If he’s fifteen, I wouldn’t imagine that would be too difficult. Dig around a bit. I’ll help, and I’m sure Clay will have a few tricks to find out more about this kid. I don’t particularly want to bring the cops into things if we can avoid it.”
Like the rest of the Luzzi family, Anthony obviously shared a wide distrust for the organized government. The only rules Carlos’s employees lived by were the ten rules of honor laid out by the Italian Mafia, which aren’t exactly cop-friendly. And I can tell you for certain that ‘You Shall Not Kill’ did not make that list.
“Do you need help watching him?” Anthony asked as I grabbed my keys and prepared to head out.
“A twerp like him?” I made a show of my biceps, displaying them like a body builder. “Not this girl.”
“Call me when you need me.”
“I don’t appreciate that,” I yelled over my shoulder as I punched the handicapped sign to open the door automatically. My arms were too tired to pull it open myself.
** **
I returned home, sweaty and tired, wanting a big, fat s’more. But when I pulled open the front door to my place, Tupac the Cat screeched an ear piercing yowl, and the smell of burning plastic infiltrated my nostrils. Alfonso stood in the kitchen, a guilty expression plastered on his face and a smoldering bowl of black junk smoking away in front of him.
“That’s my pink popcorn bowl!” I shrilly shouted. “You burned a hole in it!”
“I was just trying to pop popcorn,” he said with a shrug of his shoulders.
“How did you manage to fail that miserably?” I snatched the bowl from him, whimpering at the melted husk that was once my favorite snack dish.
“Isn’t this thing like a dollar at Target?” He took the bowl back and dumped it in the garbage.
“Then buy me a new one.” I crossed my arms.
“Aren’t you taking me to the police station?”
“Not yet,” I said. “I decided to keep you here for a little bit and think about what to do with you. But I swear to God if you try and escape, I will have my cousin plant a tracking device in your ass and let Meg seal it with a kiss. Got it?”
“I’m not going anywhere.” He looked left and right, and then dropped his voice to a low murmur. “She’s crazy. How are you friends with her?”
I dropped my voice to a whisper. “Because she is crazy, and I’m a little afraid of what she’d do if we stopped being friends. I’m not exactly sure what she’s capable of.”
“Well she’s capable of clearing an entire room of people with a single fart, and that’s when she’s happy.” He eyed me knowingly.
“Exactly my point. I’d hate to see what she does when she’s mad.”
“Or when she’s had a burrito.”
We each stood nodding for a moment, and then at the same time we realized that we shouldn’t be bonding. He was the enemy, and I was the captor.
“Why are you cooking, anyway?” I asked.
“She’s hungry.”
“Did you feed her something?” I gasped. “If she’s hungry, you need to deal with that shit. Or else she’ll turn into a monster.”
“She came up with a donut from somewhere. She’s okay.”
Meg walked on in. “Who’s okay?”
“You are. I was just telling Alfonso how you’re my best friend, and I probably couldn’t live without you,” I squeezed Meg around the shoulders.
“Probably not,” Meg agreed. “You’d be hurting real bad, that’s for sure. You’d have no action without a wing woman like me.”
Alfonso looked between us like a scared mouse.
“You—” I pointed at him. “In the bathroom. I’ll make up a nice bed for you in the bathtub for tonight. Take whatever food you want with you.”
“Can I take him?” Alfonso nodded to Tupac the Cat.
“Are you going to eat him?” I asked.
“No, we’re just friends.”
“Fine, go ahead. Don’t forget his bucket or his food.” I handed over the litter box. “Good luck trying to get him to let you pick him up.”
Alfonso walked over and picked Tupac the Cat right on up. The little turd didn’t even growl. In all the years I’d had him, ever since he’d wandered right up to my front door, he’d barely let me pet him, let alone walk around the house with him cradled in my arms.
Alfonso disappeared into the bathroom with the cat.
“What now?” Meg asked.
“Is Clay here?” I looked around, but there was a surprising absence of clicking keyboards and blinking lights.
“He’s up at the laundromat for a shift. Carlos promised him a big bonus for helping out today.”
“Well then, I’m headed up to the laundromat. Wanna come?” I asked.
“Sure. What about the twerp?” she asked.
“The bathroom locks from the outside, and there’s no way down from the window. We’ll only be gone twenty minutes. I just need a little help from Clay. Find out more about that kid’s story.”
“Sounds good to me. Plus, I can get a donut refill at 7-11 and you can get your sugar bomb coffee.” Meg grabbed her purse and headed for the door.
I secured the lock on the bathroom door and followed suit. “See Meg, you’re brilliant. This is why we’re friends.”
** **
Sugar bombed and donuted up, Meg and I entered the laundromat. Clay sat watch at the coin changer station and the rest of the place was fairly empty.
“Hi.” Meg waved to Clay.
“Hey.” Clay waved back.
It took everything in my soul not to roll my eyes, but I didn’t do it. I just sipped my diabetes drink and took a deep breath.
“Clay, can you please help us out with some info on this Alfonso kid in our apartment?” I perched on the counter next to his screen. As usual, a game of video poker was in full swing.
“Not now. You need to leave. Get out of here.” Clay’s voice was urgent and low, more hurried than the normally relaxed cousin I knew.
“Why?” I whispered back and looked around skeptically, but business appeared as usual.
“Later,” he said through gritted teeth.
Feeling my frustration gauge tilt up a notch, I leaned closer. “Our situation is rather urgent, Clay. We have a potential murderer sleeping in our bathroom holding Tupac the Cat hostage.”
“How’d he get the cat?” Clay looked up.
“Tupac just let Alfonso whisk him right off the floor. Didn’t even meow once.”
“That little shit.”
“Yeah. So, a little help?” I poked him gently in the shoulder.
“Not now. You need to leave, or else—”
“Where does she need to go?” A voice boomed behind me, the cockiness palpable from across the room.
Joey emerged from the backroom hallway looking as neon and shiny as ever.
“So… did they let you in?” Clay asked lazily.
“Stupid bouncer doesn’t know what he’s talking about,” Joey said, looking flustered. “Said I didn’t have a meeting with Carlos. Who needs a meeting to see their Uncle these days?”
I looked at Clay, who
gave me the slightest wink imaginable.
“What is this world coming to?” Clay asked. “Also, he’s not quite an Uncle. Sorry again about Vivian.”
“It’s fine,” Joey growled. “I was looking for her, anyway.”
“Me?” I pointed to myself under his stare. “Why?”
“Well, I don’t know who that chick is, and I already talked to that knucklehead.” Joey nodded first at Meg and then at Clay.
“What do you want?” The wariness in my voice was obvious, even to myself.
“Can’t I just say hello to my almost-cousin?” he retorted.
“Uh, hello.” I waved, feeling a lot like Meg and Clay.
“You got an invite to Vivian’s wedding, yeah?” Joey asked.
It was a rhetorical question, since Vivian was my cousin, and you don’t not invite Family to a wedding. Unless some serious bad shit had happened. Like, if you’d killed the wrong person or stolen from the Family.
“Yes.” I cleared my throat, wishing the very bad feeling in my stomach would go away.
“You got a plus one?” he asked.
“Yes,” I said.
“Who?” Joey got real close to my face.
“Clay.” I said the first name that popped into my head.
Clay’s eyebrows shot through the roof, and Meg looked murderous.
“You’re taking your cousin?” Joey looked skeptical. “I see a problem with that, honey. Clay got his own invite.”
“So?” I asked.
“Take me.”
“What? No. That’s weird. Why would I do that?” I stepped backwards, away from his overly minty breath. My stomach roiled—it was as if his tongue was made of spearmint. How had Vivian ever found this man attractive?
“Because I want to go, and Vivian should’ve been mine.” A vein pulsed in Joey’s forehead.
“That’s exactly why I can’t take you,” I said. “If Vivian wanted you there, she would’ve invited you. And since she didn’t, it’s not my place to take you. Plus, that’s just odd. People don’t go to their ex’s weddings as a general rule.”
“That’s not true,” Joey said. “I’ll pay you.”
“How much?” I asked. “Not that I’m considering it.”
“Five grand.”
My mouth parted a little bit, though I wish it hadn’t. “What do I have to do?”
“Nothing. Well, something. We drive up there together since I currently don’t have a car. We can take these two goons with us.” He glanced at Meg and Clay. “Other than that, we just have to stay in the same room. I get to be your plus one, so we might have to sit next to each other at dinner, but that’s it. After I’m in the door, I want nothing to do with you.”
“So, no touching, right? It’s understood that I will not so much as dance with you or hand you the Parmesan cheese?” I leaned forward. Five thousand dollars could be put towards a new car with a turning radius less than the circumference of the earth. Or it could buy me a lot of sugar bomb coffees. Or I could finally pay my half of the rent.
I looked at Clay. “What do you think?”
“Take it,” he said. “You owe it to me.”
I sighed. I really did. And for such an easy, harmless task. “You won’t cause trouble, right?”
“Of course not.” Joey winked, and I didn’t believe him for a second. “But it’s not your problem if I do.”
“Fine, deal. When do I get the money?” I held out my hand.
He shook it. “I’ll hand it over the second we check into the hotel.”
“Deal.”
“All right, see you.” Joey turned and high tailed it for the front door.
“Didn’t you want to talk to him about something’?” Meg asked as the door clanged shut.
“Oh, damn it.” I sprinted after him. “Joey, I gotta ask you a question. What do you know about Leo Campani?”
Joey’s eyes twitched, whether in anger, frustration or sheer twitchiness, I couldn’t be sure.
“What about that jerk?” He sneered.
“I hear you had a fight with him in Meg’s bar last week.”
“That’s where I know her from. She owns Shotz, right?” Joey nodded inside.
“Yeah. So anyway, what was the fight about?” I repeated.
“Nothing. He’s a cheat. He owed me some money. It was nothing. Why?”
“He’s dead. You were one of the last people to be seen with him.”
“What are you suggesting?” Joey’s eyes narrowed with a streak of mean I hadn’t seen before.
“I’m not suggesting anything, I’m just asking. Do you know who else I could talk to if I wanted to find out why he died?”
“This is Mafia business, Lacey. Don’t you worry your pretty head about it, or you might get hurt.” Joey slammed the door and drove away. If anyone other than a giant orange pansy had said those words, I might’ve suspected it was a threat. As it was my almost cousin, and now volatile plus one, I chalked it up to machismo.
“Everything cool?” Clay asked when I reentered the laundromat. “Meg told me about Joey’s fight with Leo.”
“Yeah, he says it was a tiff over money. I believe him. They’d argue over whose turn it was to leave a two dollar tip.” I shook my head. “I don’t know where that leaves us.”
“I’ll do some digging,” Clay promised. “You need to go buy a dress for the wedding. Take Meg with you.”
“Why? Is she—” I clasped a hand over my mouth. “Meg’s your plus one.”
Clay and Meg looked at their shoes.
“All right, Meg. Let’s go shopping. Then we need to stop by Vivian’s and give her the heads up that her doofus ex will be making an appearance at her wedding.”
“Won’t she be mad?” Meg asked.
“Nah, she’ll be flattered,” I said. “Vivian loves attention. The more scandalous an event, the better. I bet you she did invite Joey just to spite him, and her boring banker fiancé threw out the invitation before it hit the post office.”
“Glamour and scandal.” Meg shook her head, love in her eyes. “That’s my idea of a wedding.”
Clay turned neon red. I grabbed Meg’s hand and pulled her from the laundromat. “I want more information on Alfonso when we return. It’s payment for being Meg’s clothes-trying-on audience.”
Clay mumbled something as the door swung shut and we hit the streets that paved the way towards Maple Mall.
Chapter 4
“Check it, girl.” Meg flounced from the dressing room, her body somewhat confined by a sequined strapless dress. I could see patches of underwear without her bending over, and the majority of her breasts spilled over the top.
“That is so…” I paused. “Gold.”
“Do you think it’ll fit in okay at the wedding? I don’t want to show the bride up, if you know what I’m saying.”
“Well, you are a walking disco ball.” I gestured for her to spin around and got an eyeful of butt cheek. “Can you explain to me exactly which body parts this covers?”
“What do you mean?” Meg scrunched her eyebrows. “If Vivian likes drama as much as you say she does, then I’m gonna give it to her. It’s like my present to her. Maybe she’ll even try to slap me.”
While I looked horrified at the thought, Meg let out a disturbing cackle. She quieted as she saw my expression.
“That would be so unfortunate. So this is a no?”
“How about this?” I handed over a floor length black dress.
“Honey, I own a bar and wear camouflage on the reg. I gotta keep up the tough guy appearance I earned on the force. None of that robe crap you wear.”
Grumbling, I replaced the dress on the hanger. I hadn’t picked out a robe. It was a sensible black dress down to my knees with long sleeves. I was not trying to impress any of the shady souls present at Vivian’s wedding. It was best I gave off that vibe loud and clear.
“I’m going to buy these both. We’re going to see Vivian now, right? Let’s get her opinion.” Meg held up an S&M bonda
ge style leather dress in her left hand with more holes in it than fabric, and straps I wouldn’t be able to fasten in my wildest dreams. In her right hand dangled the shining gold dress that could have doubled as a coarse dishtowel. I shielded my eyes and followed Meg to the register.
** **
We ended up with six more bags after a slight detour to Victoria’s Secret. Meg said she needed to be ready in all areas, and I could always use a new pair of cotton panties. With pink bags in hand, we hit the road and pulled into Vivian’s driveway five minutes later. She lived on Payne Avenue, not far from where we’d picked up Alfonso earlier.
Her house was small and modest, surprisingly well-kept, considering the rest of the area. Tricycles littered the surrounding houses, the bikes spray painted all shades of blue, pink and black, their original colors peeking through hesitantly.
We heard shouting before we even reached the front door.
“They got some issues to work out before their wedding,” Meg said.
Knowing Vivian and having heard a fair amount about her supposedly boring new banker fiancé, I largely suspected that it was Vivian’s issues that needed working out.
I tentatively pressed the doorbell.
The door was flung open by a livid Vivian—her face flushed with red streaks, talon-like nails scraping her bottled-blonde hair back from her eyes. Her shocking orange lipstick was smudged, running into the pink rouge she’d smeared onto her cheekbones.
“Lacey, what are you doing here?” Vivian suddenly looked suspicious and shut the door halfway, clearly closing the invitation for us to enter. “And who’s that?”
“This is Meg, my best friend. I was just stopping by to congratulate you on your wedding. I just really wanted to say how much I’m looking forward to it.” I smiled.
Meg poked me in the back. “And?”
Vivian’s penciled in eyebrows shifted slightly. “And what?”
“And she’s bringing me as her plus one to the wedding.” A sunset-orange face appeared in the doorframe above Vivian’s head. Joey pushed passed his former girlfriend and joined Meg and I on the front steps.
“OH, she is NOT bringing you, you jackass.” Vivian’s fists balled into tight wads of pure fury. “You will not ruin my marriage.”
“Baby, I’m your soul mate.” Joey leaned forward with his lips puckered, but Vivian slapped him firmly across the cheek.
