by T Gephart
Now, Sal, he was the only one of the three who would pull the trigger and would guarantee me a toe tag. But he also was smart, and knew I was just the right amount of crazy son-of-a-bitch to risk doing the damage I was threatening as I took my exit. It’s amazing what can be achieved when you aren’t afraid to die.
“No one is taking the fucking shot.” He lowered his gun a hair. “Tony, put the gun away before you shoot yourself in the fucking foot.”
“I can handle my business,” Tony protested, his hand getting a case of the shakes, clearly not as tight as he thought he was.
“Are you done yet?” My arms stayed locked in position. “Because I feel like shooting him just for boring me.”
“If he doesn’t put the gun down, I’ll shoot him myself.” Sal lowered his gun and turned his attention to Tony. “Let me handle this, I’m not in the mood to clean up your mess.”
“Everyone needs to stop.” Jimmy raised his hands, the asshole still believing he had control over what was going down. “I can’t fucking think.”
“Take your daughter and fuck off.” I nodded to the black on black Mercedes E class they’d arrived in. Hard to believe the cocksucker was her father. He sure as shit didn’t act like it. “And I’ll want the rest of my money.”
“You want the rest of your money?” Jimmy’s diaphragm went into convulsions. “Check you out, the balls on you.”
“If you wanted a bargain, Jimmy, you should have gone to K-mart.” I had yet to lower my weapons. “You will pay me the remaining amount.”
“Or what? What are you going to do?” he spluttered, clearly believing his own press in thinking he was God. “You’re nothing more than a street thug. You don’t have any power.”
“You’re right. I’m nothing more than a street thug. But before I blew Sofia’s brains all over my shoes, she had a lot to say about things you’ve done. Seems your little girl was willing to sing like a fucking canary in order to save her life. So I let her get as chatty as she wanted, and when she ran out of shit to talk about, I finished what I started. So I’d be careful about who you threaten.”
Jimmy lunged for me, and if not for Sal wrapping his meat hooks around the dude’s torso, he may have gotten a little further.
“You little cunt!” he yelled, fighting a losing battle against the extra eighty pounds Sal had on him. “All I have to do is let it be known what you did to my only daughter; you’ll be dead within a day.”
“Oh, like the bounty you had on Sofia?” I laughed. Couldn’t help it. The idea that Jimmy thought he had one over on me freaking hilarious considering how deep he was in his own shit. “Yeah, ’cause that worked out so well for you. Not to mention that me taking her out just alleviated a lot of headaches for almost anyone willing to take the job. I’d say they’d be more inclined to shake my fucking hand rather than help you.”
“Watch your back, boy!” Jimmy yelled, Sal pulling him back toward the Benz. “This is far from over.”
Tony wisely didn’t interfere, his hands instead got busy holstering his gun and helping Sal contain Jimmy.
“It really pisses me off when assholes like you call me boy.” I eyeballed him as his entourage forced him to take a backward step. “And it’s you who should watch your back.”
There was some posturing on their part, mainly from Jimmy, but Sal managed to convince them that they didn’t want to do it here. He took the ash can with him, his eyes trying to burn a hole in me as he got in the car and peeled out of the shipping yard.
His reaction had been predictable. I wasn’t expecting him to high-five me after I’d supposedly S’mored his kid, but I’d played it straight down the line, and the sentiment was exactly my MO.
After giving a quick three-sixty of my surroundings, I slipped back into the Chevy and took the long way back to the warehouse. Not that it mattered now, even if they did follow me, they wouldn’t find anything there. Still, it’s not like I wanted to roll out the welcome mat for these dipshits either. And another thing, I needed another set of wheels. Losing the Camaro had happened days ago, and while there had been more pressing issues at the time, kicking it in the POS I had been currently driving was getting old. Not to mention when I finally went and picked up Sofia I needed something with a little more power under the hood. Something that could outrun their fleet of foreign douche mobiles if it came to it.
When I returned to the warehouse, it was empty. No shit, considering that was the way it was supposed to be. But I could still smell her in the air even hours after she’d been gone.
It was too soon.
We would both have to sit tight for a few days until I was positive I wasn’t being followed. Only then could I risk heading back to the church. Then maybe I would indulge my fantasy and watch the fucker burn, either way I’d sooner stab myself right in the dick than ever set foot in that place again.
“Yeah.” I answered my phone, the fucker buzzing beside me displaying no caller ID. Not that this was a surprise given the company I had been keeping the last few weeks.
“Your shit is ready. But you’re paying double because I had to rush the order.”
“Well hello to you too.” I laughed into the speaker. “Is it still up to standard?”
“Suck my dick, Mike.” It was his turn to laugh. “Everything I do is quality.”
“Fine, double.”
“Pleasure doing business with you.”
The call ended without the need to confirm any more details. Leon AKA The Polack and I had done business before and we had a system. He’d have everything I needed personally delivered to a predesignated PO box, and I’d reciprocate with payment. There’d be no follow up, and we wouldn’t speak to each other again till either of us needed something. It’s the way shit worked with people like us.
Fuck, I was edgy.
I couldn’t sit still, my ass out of my chair as I walked around the room with nowhere to go. My feet—like the rest of me—were restless which wasn’t a good way to be. The job wasn’t over—far from it—so taking a day or two and working on my suntan wasn’t going to happen.
There was also the matter of keeping up appearances. Jimmy had told me to watch my back, which went without saying because I didn’t trust the fucker as far as I could throw him. But the sooner they saw it was business as usual, the more convinced they would be that it was Sofia in that can. And while he would still be pissed about the lack of body, he would ultimately get over it.
So I needed a job. Something not too involved that took all my time, but that was public enough for it to be noticed.
I picked up my phone and dialed, waiting for the call to connect. It didn’t take too long, Damon famous for his excellent customer service.
“Who’s this?” he hissed into the phone, my new number not one he recognized.
“Your BFF.” I smirked against the phone. “You want to get together, eat ice cream and talk about boys?”
“Mikey, where’ve you been, you crazy son of a bitch?” Damon’s voice exploded into a laugh. “I’ve heard some interesting things about you. Very, very interesting.”
I’m sure he had, although I didn’t bother asking which version he had heard.
Damon was a bookie who had a side business as a loan shark. His one-stop-shop for gambling was also where a lot of his customers usually got into trouble. Between his willingness to open large lines of credit and his aggressive interest margins, he was responsible for a lot of men going AWOL. Either by their own means or being helped along by people like me.
And another thing, Damon liked to talk. Only thing the Irish fucker liked more was probably to drink, and usually after a pint or two the bastard had both of those things well combined. Which meant if I was doing something for him, almost everyone would hear about it, especially those who needed to.
“What can I say? Someone needs to be a rock star and you’re too old and too fat.”
“Very true.” He chuckled. “So tell me. You want to do some freelancing for me? Or you still h
ave a full dance card?”
“Nope, I’m a free agent.”
“Excellent. I have a few customers that need a home visit, and it’s been tough to find good help these days, Mikey.”
I’m sure it was, and I was only too happy to give my five-star guarantee.
“How about we meet at our usual spot and discuss. Tomorrow afternoon? Pretty sure you owe me a beer.”
Damon laughed. “You haven’t paid for a beer in your life, you bastard. Sounds good.” He took a breath. “And Mikey, it’s good to have you back.”
“Don’t get sentimental on me, Damon. I like you better when you’re an evil prick.”
The call ended with neither of us wasting unnecessary words. He would send me a message with his preferred time and I would either agree or give him one that worked better for me. Then he’d give me a list of people who I needed to visit and remind them of their financial obligations.
It would also take care of two of my problems. Stop me from sitting around an empty warehouse like a moody bastard and give me the visibility I needed. And as a bonus, Jimmy wouldn’t want to interfere in Damon’s business while I was earning for him. He and Damon shared a few mutual interests, and he wasn’t man enough to kill the association when it had been so lucrative.
All I had to do now was hope like hell Sofia didn’t do anything stupid while we waited it out. Yeah, and maybe Santa Claus would bring me a new ride too.
Fuck. It was going to be a long few days.
It hadn’t been hard to find her grave.
She was the only one missing a headstone; an otherwise unexplained gap right in the middle of the graveyard where the grass had grown over and a bush of pale pink roses had been planted.
Roses, for Rose.
It was a silent tribute, reinforcing that no one was to know where she’d been buried. The question as to why, was still a mystery.
It had been two days since Michael had left me here, and I was starting to feel the walls closing in. He promised he’d come back, help me get out. But as of yet I hadn’t heard from him. I had no idea how to contact his Polish guy to get my new documents. And had he even seen my father yet?
The anticipation was killing me with constant incessant questions refusing to stop as they tumbled endlessly inside my mind. I hated being in the dark; the not knowing killing me.
Being outside in the back courtyard and the garden was about the only thing that kept me sane. With the high hedges and tall fences designed to keep nosey neighbors out, I felt safe enough to sit without risk of being discovered.
The once filled halls were now largely vacant with only four nuns living at Saint Margaret’s convent but it was only Sister Catherine who I spoke to.
The other three seemed kind, all of them politely acknowledging me whenever I happened to be in a room. But none of them asked questions. They kept their heads bowed at meal times; eating silently before leaving the table to continue whatever activity they had left. Maybe Sister Catherine had already filled them in, telling them why I was here, or maybe they just didn’t want to be dragged into a mess that would soon be gone.
I felt insulated by an invisible bubble. Like if I opened up my mouth and screamed the sound would be absorbed by nothingness, like I was in danger of becoming.
“She liked being out here too.” Catherine’s kind face appeared beside me. “You are a lot like her, you know. Not in appearance, she was fairer than you, and shorter, but she was just as fierce as you are. One of the strongest women I ever knew.”
“I don’t feel very strong hiding out here while my fate is left undecided. It makes me feel pretty helpless if I’m honest.”
My mouth involuntarily opened, spewing my emotions without thought. What did it matter at this point? She had more volatile ammunition to use against me if she wanted, like my location for instance. Exposing my vulnerability didn’t seem so bad in the end.
“Be at ease, child.” Her hand gently rose and brushed against my cheek. “He may act like his father, but deep down there is more of his mother in him. Even if he has tried to deny it, he is very much her son. He will be back for you.”
It was like the wind had been knocked out of me as I literally struggled to breathe. And not because she was so certain of Michael’s return.
“You knew his father?”
Usually when speaking about Michael, Catherine was always tight lipped. Abstract almost, but she knew a hell of a lot more than she had said to either of us. The man who’d impregnated Rose mentioned for the very first time.
“Yes, I knew him.” She nodded, her hand dropped from my cheek, gripping at the rosary beads she kept in her pocket. “Maybe we should go inside; there’s a breeze out here and you aren’t wearing a jacket.” She rubbed her arms absently, giving me a tight smile. “The last thing you would need right now is to catch a cold.”
“Who is Michael’s father? Was he married? Is that why she was hidden away? Did he force himself on Rose? Did she consider leaving the church and he rejected her?”
The questions fired out one after the other with barely a breath in between, leaving no time for Catherine to answer as I continued my hard line. “Was he involved in the church too? Was she worried about the scandal?”
“What?” Catherine stepped back, her face whitewashed as her feet struggled to keep her upright. “I thought you said Michael told you about his mother?”
“He did, he told me she was a nun here.” I took a step forward wondering if she was going to pass out. She sure didn’t look steady, any remaining color draining out of her skin. “He spoke to an old groundskeeper, someone who had been around when Rose was here. He told Michael about his mother, how she’d obviously felt the disgrace, hiding herself away and giving birth in private. He never found out who his father was.”
“Oh, God, forgive me.” Her eyes looked up to the sky as her hands shook. “You must never speak of what I just told you. He can’t know. Ever.”
Terror. Absolute terror shook within her. And not the kind you could fake. This wasn’t an oops-I-wasn’t-supposed-to-say-anything slip; it was a deep secret she had promised never to reveal.
“He has every right to know.” My blood turned cold as my voice rose. “You mean to tell me you knew who his father was this whole time and never told him? How dare you keep that from him. It doesn’t matter what sins they may have committed, they were still his parents.”
She would have undoubtedly been publically condemned by the Church. But I couldn’t believe an institution that preached forgiveness would turn their back on one of their own, especially when an innocent child had been involved.
“She didn’t commit any sins.” She closed her eyes and whispered, her body swaying as her shoulders sagged. “She was married and a good wife. Devout, who loved her husband.”
Her lids slid open as her hands wrung nervously in front of her. “But then he turned into a monster, beating her, forcing himself on her and no matter what she did, she couldn’t bring him out of the darkness. He desperately wanted children, blamed her for her inability to provide him an heir. So when she finally fell pregnant, she knew it would be a son. She risked her life leaving him, under the cover of night she ran without even a change of clothes. She left everything in the hopes of saving her son. That he might have a better life and not be part of that world.”
I felt sick. Unable to comprehend what she was saying even though deep down I had to have known the answer. My brain rationalizing that it could be anyone—that I couldn’t be right.
“Who, who is his father?”
My own body had trouble fighting gravity, the blood leaving my head in a rush as I held my breath.
“Franco Santini.” Her legs buckled from underneath her; her knees hitting the grass.
“What? How?” I joined her on the grass, my hand reached out to her torso, cradling her in my arms as I felt her entire body tremble.
She took a few minutes, using the time to try and compose herself as I held her. My fingers tig
htened around the heavy cloth that covered her slight body, willing her to keep talking. Needing her to keep talking.
“Rose was Franco’s first wife.” She took a breath, settling into the words. “When she left him, he looked for her, embarrassed that she had turned her back on the marriage. It made him look weak to his peers, that he couldn’t control his own wife. She had nowhere to go.” She nodded, affirming that there had been no other choice.
“Franco knew everyone and those he didn’t know wanted the money. Even your father joined in the effort, every corner of the city turned upside down as they searched for her. Yet, no one came here. She was safe as long as she stayed within these walls. For her it was a small price she would willingly pay, if it meant her child were safe. We hoped that by the time the baby was ready to be born, Franco would have stopped looking.”
“He hadn’t.”
Not a question. The look on her face said it all. Franco was exactly like my father, and he didn’t give up easily. Nine months would have been a drop in the ocean when he had a vendetta to settle.
“No, he hadn’t.” She shook her head slowly. “He was enraged, assumed she had snuck off with another man. The vile lies he spread about her. Hateful, hateful things.” She closed her eyes, shuddering at the memory.
“So when the time came she made us promise that no matter what happened at the birth, she wouldn’t be taken to hospital. That she would rather die than go back to him. It was one in the same, in reality. Franco would have killed her just for leaving him. If he had know she had tried to keep away his child—a son—he would have killed not only her, but anyone who ever loved or helped her.”
Sister Catherine pushed out a breath, her hands grasping at the cloth around her chest. “That night . . . that night will haunt me for the rest of my days and then an eternity after. It was one of the worst storms we’d ever seen. The wind so wild I was sure the church would lift right off its foundation. There was no power; the neighborhood had been plunged into darkness. We had moved her into the church where she could be surrounded by the candles, hoping that under the Father’s watchful eye that both of them would be given a chance. But it wasn’t to be, and she succumbed just as he entered the world. A chilling sliding door between death and life.”
