My Mobster

by J. L. Drake

  It’s him.

  “Wow, what happened to you?” Charlie asked as he took what was his usual seat a month ago. Fate was not on my side. Why, today of all days, would it send him here after all this time when I looked and felt like a total wreck? I didn’t answer him, I just poured him his coffee and ordered his pancakes. “Thanks.” He took a sip of his coffee. He eyed me then reached up to feel my forehead. I blinked a few times at his boldness. “Jesus, Stacy, you’re burning up.”

  With a nod, I grabbed the stool and dropped onto it. We weren’t supposed to sit, but I didn’t care. My hands covered my eyes. All I wanted was to be home in my bed, alone in my misery.

  Charlie moved his coffee aside and leaned forward, examining my face. I knew I must be flushed and pretty awful-looking, but I didn’t really care. “You’re sick. Why aren’t you home?”

  With a heavy sigh, I decided to be honest. “I walked home in the rain last night, only to find I had lost my keys. So I spent forty-five minutes huddled against my building wall until my neighbor came home.” His face remained expressionless, and I felt like I needed to go on. “I had an umbrella, but after a drink, I felt fine and there was this homeless man and a dog who needed it more than I did. In hindsight, I see it wasn’t a smart move.”

  Charlie got up from his chair and went into the kitchen. Normally I’d care, but today I didn’t. I placed my cheek down on the cool counter and imagined myself home.

  “Up you go, hon.” Charlie’s strong arms lifted me off the counter and around to the door. I briefly heard Jack say something as we left, but I was fading fast.

  Next thing I knew, I was on a soft, warm seat, the sound of rain pounding the windshield. The car made one stop, I thought. It was delicious to drift in and out. My next memory was of Charlie handing his keys to a valet. He helped me out of the car in front of a big hotel.

  There was a wonderful fire lit, and he helped me to a fluffy couch. I lay down and closed my eyes; it was so warm. “Open your eyes.” Charlie’s voice was low and sounded concerned. “It’s just NyQuil.” I did, and took what he offered me. “Get some sleep.”

  I wondered if I should be afraid. I must have looked drunk to the people in the lobby, but that was my last conscious thought as my body shut down on me, and I had no interest in turning it back on. If I were going to be raped or murdered, at least I would not be aware of it, and I was so warm.

  I woke the next day with a headache and a sore neck. Pushing back the soft, warm blanket covering me, I was—thankfully—in the same clothes as the day before, and my long hair was still damp from the rain. My legs felt wobbly as I stood and took in the hotel room. I blinked at the clock, unable to believe it was after 5:00 p.m. I had slept through the night and a day. Shocked, I looked for the bathroom and hurried inside and checked myself out in the mirror. I was pale, and my light brown eyes looked exhausted and mirrored the sad–looking, limp hair that hung in long waves down my back. Good Lord, I was quite the sight. I washed my face and towel dried my hair a little.

  I opened the door to find Charlie at the end of the bed, waiting for me.

  “Hi,” I whispered with a little wave, feeling pretty insecure about the whole situation.

  He smiled. “How are you feeling?”

  “Better than yesterday, thanks. I…”

  “Good to hear it.” He cut me off and pointed to a bag. “I got you some dry clothes. They should fit. Then I’ll drive you home after you eat something.”

  “You didn’t need to—”

  “I know, but I wanted to, and you need to eat.” He smiled at me again and went over to a silver hotel cart and removed two plates and set them on the table. “Please, come join me. I’m tired of eating alone.”

  That, I could understand. I lived on my own forever, and company sure was nice to have.

  The prime rib was great, and was certainly not the fare I was used to. Pretty rich for my budget. Charlie remained quiet, just glancing at me with a smile now and then as I ate like I was starving. It wasn’t until he got through his first glass of wine that he started to relax.

  “Do I make you uncomfortable?” I asked when I saw him shift in his seat.

  “Not in the least.”

  “Then why haven’t you said anything to me?”

  He rested his glass on his knee and thought for a moment. “I guess I’m too busy wondering why your company doesn’t bother me.”

  I gave a little nod. “So you’re shocked you like me?” I grinned playfully. “Boy, you sure know how to flatter a lady.”

  He started to laugh, and the way his eyes lit up was so addictive I wanted to see it again. “I don’t have much company. I have a different life than most. Women don’t have time for people like me, and I don’t have time for them.”

  “So you don’t date?” I thought the wine and the leftover cold medicine might be a deadly combo for my filter.

  “I do, just haven’t for a while.” He filled his glass a little more. “Are you dating anyone?”

  “I was.” I lowered my head. “He wasn’t very nice, but we managed to remain friends.”

  Charlie studied my face. “Will?”

  “Yeah.” I looked away. “We were high school sweethearts, but I outgrew him. He still likes to think he has a chance, but he has a bit of a temper. I wasn’t raised a weakling, but I thought I was in love. After a few arguments, I quickly saw he wasn’t for me.” I glanced at Charlie, who hadn’t moved since I started to talk. “I’m not telling you my story to gain sympathy. I’m telling you because you caught me when I was really down. I thank you for looking after me, but I’m better now and should really get going.”

  “Did Will let you leave easily?”

  “No, Will likes to get his way, but in time he moved on. Now we’re friends, but that’s all.”

  “Where are your parents?”

  What is with the drill session? “Dead.”

  “Why?”

  “Because everyone dies at some point.” I didn’t like to answer questions about them.

  “Siblings?”

  “What’s with all the personal questions about who is in my life? That, right there, makes me feel like you’re scoping out if I’m an easy kill or not,” I joked.

  Charlie ran his hands around the back of his neck. “Stacy, if I wanted to kill you, you’d be dead by now.”

  “Good to know.” I sighed. “I have a sister in New York, but we don’t talk.”

  “Why?”

  “Because when our parents died, she left me to run the diner with my Uncle Jack. She took her cut of the inheritance and moved on. I hate the diner too—despise it, actually—but I won’t leave my uncle to run it on his own. He has a large family, and if the diner closes, well, he goes down with it.”

  “That’s noble of you,” he mumbled. “Why do you hate this town so much?”

  I let out a little laugh as I reached for the wine and poured a little more. “When you grow up in a small town and your parents die, people look at you like you’re a lost cause. They look at you with that sad, sympathetic face. I’m not Stacy Marie, I’m that ‘poor’ girl whose parents were murdered by a guy hyped on drugs.” I paused. This topic was a no-go area. “It just gets old.” Charlie nodded a few times. “Your turn.”

  “I suppose it is.” He cleared his throat. “Okay, my mother passed away when I was five. I have four brothers, and I’m the oldest. Born and raised in Phoenix. My father wanted me to take over the family business, but I didn’t want it. So I left.”

  “At least you got out of that town.”

  Charlie glanced down at the table. “Well, we shall see.”

  Okay…I wanted to ask more questions, but I was stuck on one thing. “So, why did you come back? You were gone for a month.”

  “I wanted to see you.” He looked right into my eyes. “I really like you. But…there’s something you need to know.”

  Three Years Later

  “Charlie,” I screamed from behind him. He reached for my hand and
pulled me along. I had never been more terrified in my whole life. “I’m scared!”

  “I won’t let anything happen to you, honey.” He opened the door and pushed me in the seat. “Stay low, and whatever you do, don’t leave this seat. I will come back for you.” He leaned in and kissed my lips hard. “I love you, Stacy.” He took my hand and kissed my wedding band. “Don’t move.” With that, he was gone. I was left inside an old Cadillac in a scrap metal yard. My knees banged the floor, and I folded into a tight ball, praying I would stay hidden.

  The motor of the Tahoe stopped several feet away from me, and I peeked out the window and saw him as he scanned the property. He motioned for the men to go off in different directions. I was sure he could hear my thundering heartbeat from where he stood. One man got so close I held my breath and pressed myself down flat onto the floor of the car. Peeking out through a crack, I saw his shadow appear over the driver’s seat, and then his flashlight moved to the passenger side. I squeezed my eyes shut and bit down on my tongue in fear, waiting for his shout. The light stopped and became brighter. Oh my God! I knew they’d find us—they always did! Why did we think this time was any different? I had no weapon and no hope left.

  “Hey,” someone yelled, “over here!” The light moved away, and I slowly stared out the window just in time to see the man stick his gun in Charlie’s direction and pop two bullets right between my husband’s eyes.

  I scrambled out of the car and ran as fast as I could. I knew it was stupid, even suicidal, but I lost all sense of reason as I dropped to the ground where a pool of blood made paths through the dirt.

  “No!” I cried and held Charlie’s head to my chest. I looked up at the man and screamed, “You’re a monster! How could you do this?” I looked straight into his eyes, right before he raised his gun and stole my life away.

  Present Day

  FBI Agent Cooper Colin

  Nashville was cooler than Southern California. I had only been here once before, when I came across their case.

  I’d worked cold cases for the past nine years. There was something about solving something that others couldn’t that made it exciting. I liked to be down in the gallows of the building alone to connect the dots with little interruption.

  My room was huge, with pictures of crime scenes linked with red lines to suspects and evidence. Every case started with a crime, victim, a murder…then the truth. It all came together like a game, clues scattered, witnesses with their own versions of what happed, character traits, and the million dollar question—“who did it?”

  I was currently the best detective in my division. It was as if the evidence spoke to me, and I saw things most didn’t.

  I’d solved twenty-one cases in my nine years with the FBI. I’d taken out more of the Marrone family than any other FBI agent on our force. I had no remorse for the killers I brought down, and when they got arrested, the looks on their faces were satisfying. I’d solved every case I’d picked up but one. Charlie and Stacy Knight.

  The Knights’ murder was the first double homicide I’d come across that I knew who did it but could never prove it with the evidence. Until now…

  After I rented a car, I decided to head directly to the diner. I could check into my hotel later.

  The place looked exactly the same, and I took a seat at the counter and pictured Charlie waiting for his coffee. I watched as the waitress took orders one by one and imagined it was Stacy. I wondered what they spoke about and how she felt when he disappeared for that month. All I knew was Charlie returned to Phoenix, disappearing until he came back to Nashville with all of his belongings. Well, according to the witness, Stacy’s Uncle Jack.

  Jack sat hunched over the cash register and rang in people’s orders. He caught my eye then gave me a nod when he placed who I was. Jack and I had spoken about six times. The poor man has been through so much. I would do anything to make his last few years here happy ones.

  “Coffee?” the teenaged waitress asked with a genuine grin.

  “To go, please.” I returned her friendly tone. I dropped a five on the counter and thanked her for the coffee. She beamed at the tip and gave me a little wave.

  I started to leave, but paused when I saw a picture on the wall. With my cell phone in hand, I snapped a quick photo of the smiling couple and left.

  Bobby Marrone was the head of the Phoenix mafia family that was now scattered all over California. They came from Italy in the early forties and had remained in the U.S. ever since. The crime rate skyrocketed after their arrival, and for some reason spread over to Nashville thirty-five years ago. Why? That was what I’d been trying to figure out. I was convinced they had a part in my case’s murder.

  The Bureau gave me free rein with the Marrone family, mainly because I’d taken down more of their family than any major crime unit had in the last three years. I had to admit, I was a bit of a dirty player. I had my ways of dealing with people, and I was known for being an asshole. Which was great, because people left me alone. I had one focus in life, and it wasn’t to have friends.

  The hotel bar was dark and quiet, perfect for my mood. My phone rang three times; my sister just didn’t take the hint. She and Mom insisted on calling me every week so I’d join them for dinner. I wanted to be alone. I wasn’t the family man they wanted. I had too much internal shit to battle on a day to day basis, and they simply didn’t understand. How could they?

  The bartender refilled my drink the moment it was empty. When my head started to fog over, I finally felt myself relax. I wasn’t blind to the fact that Bobby’s men most likely knew I was here because they normally sent someone to follow me. But this time, it was what I wanted.

  My fingers tugged at my tie until it broke free and hung in place. I undid a few buttons on my shirt and rolled up my sleeves. Downing my third drink, I watched the amber liquid slide from the neck of the bottle and land with a splash into the glass.

  I hunkered down for a peaceful night of just me and my thoughts.

  Before I even opened my eyes, I felt the hammer smash the inside of my skull. My neck was stiff from the angle at which I’d slept. Still in my clothes from the night before, I rolled over and trudged to the shower, but right before I stepped in, my phone rang. It was Tommy.

  “I heard you were back in town.”

  “News travels quickly.”

  “Bobby’s brother, Vinnie, is in town too. He knows you’re here. My advice is go home.”

  I smirked in the mirror. “Now, why would I do that?”

  “Don’t fuck with things you don’t understand.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong, Tommy. I’m very aware of what I’m doing.”

  “Your funeral.”

  “Better to be buried by six than judged by twelve.” I shrugged, revising our normal motto to fit my dark side.

  The line went dead.

  The hotel bar started to pick up by 5:00 p.m. I sat in my spot from last night and nursed my drink and waited. It didn’t take long for the bait to be taken.

  Vinnie’s reflection flickered over the ridges of the Bombay bottle as he took a seat beside me. He ordered a Crown on the rocks.

  “So what brings the FBI to Nashville?” Vinnie asked as he sipped his drink and slid onto the stool next to me. Vinnie was a billboard for the mafia. It didn’t help that he was born and raised in Italy, later moving to the U.S. to be with his brother. He wore expensive suits, shoes, and cufflinks, and his accent matched his personality. Hell, he was mob right down to the cigar that rested in his breast pocket.

  “What brings the Marrones to Nashville?” Most were nervous around this family, but not me. For some reason, they didn’t fuck with me. Sometimes the line blurred as to who was using whom.

  “Just visiting an old friend,” he said and snickered into his glass.

  “Whiskey sour, please.” Her voice was soft and sweet from behind Vinnie’s massive body. He started to move, and my jaw nearly went with him. Jesus Christ! There she was, right where she said she’d be
. I thought my balls had just stood at attention. Her black, skin-tight dress barely covered her ass, and her long legs stopped at her six-inch red heels. Her breasts nearly hit Vinnie in the face, and her hair had a slight wave around her midsection. Christ, she was sex on heels.

  Not caring if she saw, I obviously shifted my erection.

  “Well, well, well,” Vinnie purred at the uninvited guest who’d stepped up to join them. “Why can’t all women look like you?”

  She gave him a sidelong glance as she thanked the bartender for her drink. I nearly groaned when I took in the back, mainly because it was missing. Her spine had a beautiful curve to it, begging for my fingers to coast downward.

  She checked her phone as if she were waiting for someone. Vinnie couldn’t remove his stare from her.

  “Excuse me?” I asked on cue. “Can I tell you something?”

  She turned and stuck her hip out at me. “That’s original. Are you going to tell me that you feel a gravitation pull that goes from you to me?”

  I nearly laughed. She was quick. “No, but I rather like that one. I’m not from here and was curious about a good place to eat. You know, somewhere with a local vibe.”

  She took a moment and thought. “Trish’s Diner. That always seems to be a favorite with the out-of-towners.”

  “Trish’s Diner…You know Jack?” Vinnie’s curiosity appeared piqued.

  “Yes, he was my mother’s uncle.”

  All I needed to see was written across Vinnie’s expression. It was almost like seeing inside his soulless body.

  “Was?” he asked smoothly.

  “Yes, that normally means past tense.”

  Damn, this girl was naturally witty.

  Vinnie smirked, and I could see he was interested. “So, they died?”

  “Yes. Anything else painful you’d like to bring up?” She turned her back to us while she signed her bill. “I should’ve been a lesbian.” She sauntered across the bar to sit in a chair across the room.