“Kel,” I breathed. “You knew this was going to be hard. Don’t you see? The worst is over now.”
I heard her breathing on the other end. “I just watched as a surgeon pulled a bullet out of Pops’s back. He may never walk again. They aren’t sure they got all the fragments fucking up his spine. If this is progress, I say fuck that. I’m done, Vince. I can’t. I just can’t.”
I balled a hand up into a fist. “No. Kel. Don’t.”
“It’s already done,” she said. “This relationship started out as fake, anyway. We need to face the facts—we’ll never be together peacefully. I can’t be with someone if I’m always worried about them being killed at any fucking time!”
I breathed. Or at least I tried to. My mouth moved, but nothing came out.
Kelly continued. “The doctors are coming in. I gotta go. Please, just don’t try to contact me. We started with an expiration date, and it’s over. Deep in your heart, you know it’s for the best.”
She hung up and I stared at the phone in disbelief. This was a nightmare, but the call log proved that it just fucking happened.
Maybe it wasn’t me who had gotten hit by a bullet, but I felt as if I might as well have been dead.
The life that Kelly had breathed into me whooshed out like I was a deflated balloon.
I clenched my jaw hard as I glanced up at Sal’s half-alive body. I pressed the red button, and a few minutes later a doctor came in with a clipboard.
“Yes, is something wrong?”
“Yes, something is fucking wrong!” I boomed. “I need a motherfucking update. What’s Sal’s status?”
“Sir, the bullet was removed. It’s the same status update from two hours ago.”
My expression darkened. I took a step closer to the man and grabbed him by the shirt collar. “I want updates every hour on the hour about this man, do you understand?” I growled.
“Sir, please let go of me. We’re doing everything we can!” I tightened my grip on his collar so that his breathing was strained. “Sir,” he pleaded. “Please.”
I let go and backed away, my hands up in the air. The doctor clenched at his throat and took a few deep breaths. “I’m so sorry, Doctor. I don’t know what came over me. You must save that man. He’s my last friend on Earth.”
The doctor straightened his glasses, looking at me like I was insane. “We’re doing everything we can,” he repeated. He backed out of the room and left me alone again.
I stared down at my phone, and against my better judgment, I fired off a text to Kelly telling her that I needed to see her. That this wasn’t an option.
My text came back undelivered. She’d blocked me from my own pink fucking phone I’d gotten her.
I squeezed the phone in my hand.
“Fuck!” I screamed and slammed it onto the ground as hard as I could. It broke into a million pieces.
It felt good to destroy something that I could replace. In contrast, I’d just destroyed the best thing that had ever happened to me and I had no idea how to fix it.
For the next few weeks in August, I tried to go back to business as usual. I tried everything. Working from home. Working in the office. Taking a trip on my jet. Getting drunk at a bar. Getting shitfaced at home. Staying sober. Going to church on Sunday. Going to the horse racing track on Sunday.
Nothing fucking worked to take her off my mind.
In my condo, Kelly was still present without being there physically. Her outfits were still in the closet she kept at my place. Her smell was everywhere. I vacillated between never getting rid of her stuff, ever, to exterminating every trace of her from my memory.
I had no one to talk to. With Sal still in the hospital, I had Luca, but he was a listener, not a talker. I actually Googled ‘therapists in Chicago,’ and thought about trying one out, but there was no way a therapist was going to be able to handle me. Plus, I’d get reported if I told the truth about my days as Executioner, and what was the point of therapy if I couldn’t be upfront?
There was one man, though who always offered his unfiltered opinion, and didn’t just repeat the bullshit of the masses.
We weren’t close. I wasn’t sure I even liked him. We might have been friends if he didn’t remind me of Kelly, but I was desperate.
I picked up the phone and got Connor McGrath on the line. After calling me an array of creative insults, he agreed to meet me, for Kelly’s sake.
Scotty’s South Side Gym was a breeding ground for mixed martial arts in Chicago. The clientele was a diverse mix of backgrounds from all over the city. In the first five minutes of being there, it became obvious this gym was a melting pot of people of every color and background imaginable, and I swear I heard at least four languages being spoken.
I stood around the center ring, watching Connor McGrath run through his usual training routine.
“Ye must be as desperate as a lad in a bar at closing time if you’re coming to me for advice,” Connor grunted as he ducked, weaved, and threw the occasional punch at his trainer.
I shrugged, leaning onto the ropes. “My parents are both deceased. Sal was the only one who will shoot me straight, and he’s in a coma. You may be an asshole, but at least I know you’re not full of shit.”
The timer dinged and Connor let his arms hang slack. “Did you hear what the man said, Taylor? ‘Not full of shit’ directed at me?”
His trainer smirked. “Can we get that quote in writing?”
I squinted. Men like Connor might not like each other, but we understood each other. I had a feeling he wasn’t as full of hot air as he seemed, but who the fuck really knew what he was actually thinking.
“I know you didn’t come here to slob on my knob. So, tell me what’s bothering you.” He motioned for me to come in the ring and I stepped through the ropes.
“It’s Kelly. She hates me now. I was wondering if you had spoken with her since the incident.” I threw a few punches at the pads his trainer put up, then imitated the left right bobbing and weaving maneuver I had seen Connor perform.
“Ah, yes. True love takes down the best of men. I never thought I’d see it get to the Executioner, though.”
“Fuck you, McGrath,” I grunted as I put some weight behind a few punches. “You know I’m trying to right my wrongs.”
“Ah, yes, of course. By hiring Kelly. She told me all about your little deal.”
“She fucking told you?” Adrenaline coursed through me.
“Yes. But don’t worry, she only told me. She said Pops wouldn’t understand, but she had to get it off her chest. Had to tell someone. Huh. I’m kind of like that to both of you, aren’t I? Connor McGrath: Professional MMA Fighter and Relationship Confidante.”
“And what the fuck did you tell her back?” I let off a furious barrage of punches. Left. Right. Hook.
“I told her it wasn’t my place to give her advice on love. I mean shit, have you ever seen me with one woman for more than a week or two?”
My two-minute timer went off. Damn, this was hard work. I was out of breath.
“That’s shockingly self-aware of you,” I panted between breaths, leaning on the ropes.
“And your technique is shockingly good for a guy who hasn’t boxed in years. So, what the fuck do you want me to do about it?”
I put my hands on my hips. “Honestly, I don’t fucking know. You were right about me being desperate. I can’t sleep. I don’t eat. I’ve almost stopped giving a shit if I live or die.” If Sicily got even a whiff of my weakness, or fuck, even the Columbians, shit would get bad in Chicago real quick.
Connor was about to start his timer again, but that got his attention. He held a hand up to his trainer. “You’re in a dark place.”
I’m sure he noticed the rings of depression under my eyes. My jaw clenched. “Very dark. I’ve tried contacting her, but she’s made it very clear she doesn’t want to see me. What am I going to do, stalk her?”
He cocked his head, and for once the cocky smirk that seemed to be perma-plastere
d on his face dissipated. “You saw me fight that night in New York, yeah?”
“Of course. Front row. I don’t understand what that’s got to do with—”
“Let me finish. How many rounds did it take for me to win?”
I thought back. It was a longer fight. “Nine rounds, I think. Woodley hit you pretty bad at the end of round four. I thought you were a goner.”
Connor smiled again. “And then round five, I was right back dancing in the ring.”
I crossed my arms. “What the fuck’s this got to do with Kelly?”
“You dating a redhaired Irish lass like Kelly took some big balls. I’ll hand that to you. Now, you’ve got to stay in the ring with her. Wait until you get your chance and bam! Strike on her. Just like I did with Woodley in the ninth round.”
I scrunched up my face. “You’re confusing me more than you’re helping me.”
He shrugged. “Fuck, Vince, what do you want? I’m trying to help you out here, and fighting analogies are the only ones I know. Just go see her at her play or something. And if losing her is going to fuck you up that bad, I have some great therapists I can recommend. You’ve probably got some fucked up shit tucked away up there, having been the Executioner and all.”
I hadn’t realized Kelly was still taking part in the play.
He hit the timer again and went back to his bobbing and weaving maneuvers.
I nodded.
“You’re welcome for the advice,” he went on. He was in such good shape, he was barely breathing hard going through his training maneuvers. “Normally I charge five hundred an hour but the first session is free.”
I walked out of the gym without saying another word. Connor was right. What the fuck did I want from him, anyway?
I knew what I had to do. People weren’t going to like me, but a man had to do what a man had to do.
I’d been crashing on Elaine’s couch in the interim while I look for my own place to stay in the city. Vince’s lawyer had been acting as a go-between since I was still refusing to answer him. He had offered to wire me the money Vince said he owed me from our summer agreement, but I’d refused. After what we’d shared, it didn’t feel right.
Still, I couldn’t be with Vince as much as it pained me to think of a life without him. Us being together had only brought pain and suffering to those around me, and if I had to sacrifice our romance to keep them safe, so be it.
For the month of August, I threw all my energy into rehearsals, found a job bartending at a local bar that wasn’t Irish or Italian, and tried to enjoy my summer like a normal twenty-four-year-old. Pops would be recovered by the time our stage run ended in September, and only then would I break the news to him that I would be moving to California. The events of this past summer had solidified my feeling that moving to Los Angeles was the only way I’d ever fully escape the violence.
“You hear about this new program the mayor’s been working on?” Elaine said one Saturday afternoon in September. I was doing my makeup and getting ready to head to the theater while she surfed Twitter on her phone. “They are creating community centers every fourth block on the South Side of Chicago. It’s apparently going to focus on the trades. I’m shocked Mayor Drake is actually doing something good for once.”
I shot her a look. “Where’s the money coming from?”
She tapped her fist against her lips. “Doesn’t say.”
Someone with deep pockets.
Could Vince be the one who was behind the new community outreach centers? He had the money to burn. Why would he care, though?
I glanced at Elaine. She would know when they were opening.
Shit, why did I want to know? If Vince had his hands in it, I should stay far, far away. No matter that I thought the idea was an awesome one.
I’d broken up with him and cut him loose, tore my own heart to shreds, but it was worth it. If my family was safe, the pain would be worth it.
Elaine had mentioned them for a reason, though. “Did you want to go to the grand opening?”
Elaine flicked a stray crumb off the table. Her face was cast in guilt. By the way she looked at me we both knew she was onto my ploy. She knew everything that had gone on between me and Vince, including the fact that I had been his fake girlfriend. But I’d fallen in love with him along the way.
“Are you sure you should be going to that, even if I did want to go?” Elaine didn’t bullshit. She cut straight to the heart of the matter. While everything had been going on, Elaine had been at my side, letting me crash on her couch when I’d been too stressed to find my own place. Things had changed over the past few months, and I couldn’t move back to Pops’s house.
“What would it hurt? I mean he’s likely already moved on. Right?” As soon as I said the words, my heart ached. It was hard to breathe around the feeling of loss swelling inside me.
Elaine barely refrained an eye roll. “It’s probably a week or so away.”
“So, I shouldn’t be worrying about it right now. I have a play to get ready for.” Tonight was opening night of Kill Me, Deadly. A noir play about a gumshoe and his clients.
“Are you ready for your great debut?”
“I’m as ready as I’m ever going to be,” I said.
I was nervous and excited about taking my bow on the big stage. I hadn’t landed a leading role since I was still a newbie when it came to the theater and acting. Just because I had a degree in how to convey emotion through body language and project my voice didn’t mean I was any good in the practical application. But just the simple fact that I got even a small part amazed me. It was a start, a new one I so desperately needed.
While I still had thoughts of going west to California, running away to join Hollywood didn’t seem as grand as it once had. Pops was on his way to good health and would be home soon. I knew if I went to Tinsel Town, or anywhere really, Tommy and the others would be here to take care of them. After the shooting, there had been a shift. The tension I’d carried all summer popped like a soap bubble.
Deep down, I knew why I wasn’t excited to go to California. It was because I was leaving Vince behind. How could I leave my heart in one state and run away to the other?
I shook my head and looked down at my script. I ran my fingers along the lines I would be reciting tonight. I knew them by rote. “I’m as ready as I’m ever going to be,” I said.
“Break a leg,” Elaine said and gave me a hug. I hugged her back.
Energy buzzed through the air as the ensemble cast gathered together backstage. The play, and the old theater reminded me of the date Vince first took me on. That had been when he’d asked me to pretend to be his girlfriend, the Juliet to his Romeo, except now that we were in the final stages of our act. There was no Romeo on a balcony begging me to come to him. We barely escaped from the drama and death of a Shakespearean tragedy.
One of the stage managers approached me. She was dressed head to toe in black, helping her blend in with the shadows on each side of the stage. A wireless headset was tucked against her ear, the boom angled toward her mouth. In her arms was a massive bouquet of flowers. They weren’t roses or the mixed bouquet that others in the cast had received.
“These are for you, Kelly.”
She passed the fragile blooms to me.
A mixture of emotions welled inside me as I gazed down into the familiar blue irises. I didn’t need a card to know who they were from. There wasn’t a card, but they had Vince stamped all over them. He was the only man who’d ever given me flowers.
These remind me of your eyes. The prettiest blue I’d ever seen.
His words floated to me as I inhaled the succulent perfume.
Why was he still thinking of me? The past few months had been long, tiring, and emotional.
The truth was, I wasn’t over him, and it seemed he wasn’t over me. Would I ever get over him? Was I risking a lifetime of loneliness and eventual cat lady-dom by denying what I felt?
I’d been the one to break his heart, I’d been the on
e to chase him away, shoving him out of my life as if he didn’t hold the keys to my heart. But the truth was, I was lost without Vince. He dominated my every waking thought. I wanted to claim I was a good daughter, always thinking of Pops, but I wasn’t. Vince held dominion over me. I still spent a lot of time at Pops’s bedside, though he was now located in a rehabilitation center, learning how to walk again.
He hadn’t been paralyzed by Cooney’s bullet like the doctors initially thought, but it was still a long and arduous journey back to the virility he had before.
Vince and I lived in dangerous worlds. But after the shooting, Pops and even Tommy had come around. Maybe it was because they saw how miserable I was. Or maybe because they heard what Cooney had said about collateral damage.
What would’ve happened if it had been a kid who got shot at the festival? There’d been so many around, but it was almost fate that Dad had been the one who took the bullet.
Cooney’s actions shattered my world, but maybe we could all heal now.
I shook my head. I couldn’t be having these thoughts right before my big debut.
I walked to one of the darkened wings that wasn’t in use for this play and set the bouquet down. Then I got ready for my appearance in the next scene.
I wasn’t a big part of the play. It was an ensemble cast and I was mostly a fur-dressed prop in a slinky dress with a few lines tossed in—though my lines got beefier in the final act. So, I had to wait around backstage dressed in costume, waiting for curtain call.
I watched the stage from the wings, surrounded by other actors and theater folk. You may only notice the actors on stage, but there was a whole village behind the scenes making sure things went smoothly.
Finally, the last lines were spoken.
As the curtain came down we all piled onto the stage. I grabbed the hand of the girls beside me, pinning a smile on my face. As the curtain came up we all bowed. It had taken a week of practice for us to do it with any synchronized grace.
Dirty CEO: A Bad Boy Mafia Romance (Windy City Bad Boys Book 1) Page 22
