by J. J. McAvoy
“So this is a game to you? Or is it revenge for the fact that your father Marcos was taken out like a bitch, and you had to crawl and beg for someone to notice you? Did you live a hard knock life? I can have someone come and play the violin while you tell me your sob story,” I replied as he glared but didn’t say anything, backing away toward the door.
“Tell your husband I said thanks; Liling was getting far too clingy for my liking and now the triad has no one else to look to but me.” He closed the door behind him, and it only took a second for Mina to come back in.
“The son of a fucking bitch—ahh.” I hissed, reaching up to my chest as it burned.
“Melody you need to relax!” Mina rushed to me but I pushed her away.
God damn it! “Ahh…”
“We need to go to the hospital.”
“I’m fine.”
“Mel.”
DAMN IT!
I was going kill him. I didn’t care what he had. That night, wherever he was, I was going to kill him and deal with whatever happened next.
LIAM
“Again.”
I watched as she lit up like a Christmas tree, electricity flowing through her body, her hair rising away from her body.
“Stop,” I ordered, and when they left her, she slumped in her chair. “Do you know there was a study where they asked regular people to electrify other regular people, with different voltage strengths? They started off with the weakest voltage and the person being electrified would give a quick groan or grunt but seemed okay. Then they told to raise the voltage and it seemed like those people were in real pain. Yet out of dozens of people involved in the experiment, only a handful refused to increase the voltage. Most of them just kept doing what they were told.” I waited for a second before nodding to Fedel. “Again.”
She shook for only a second before I said, “Stop…again…stop. You see, I think there is something in people that makes them innately susceptible to commands. Some people are just followers, while other people, a rare few, are born to lead. You weren’t born to lead, Liling. You thought you were, but you just aren’t the same. Is that why Emilio was able to get you so wrapped around his fingers?”
She cursed me in Chinese, not bothering to lift her head up. Two hours of this and she still wouldn’t speak; either she didn’t know anything or she would rather die than say anything.
“Liam.” Neal came into the room, turning his body away from her and holding the tablet out in front of him. “This was just published online.”
“What the fuck am I looking at?” I could clearly see Melody and Emilio, in her office, their faces so close together it looked like they were about to kiss.
“He’s starting,” Liling said, laughing behind us.
“The press is going to hound her—”
“If this is all he can do, then we are far too worried about him,” I muttered as I glared at the image.
MELODY
“So the interview will be in one of the conference rooms of the hospital, and after that you have the teachers association meeting at one, then the city board at three—”
“I thought I was taking it easy, coming in, shaking a few hands, pretending to actually be working.” I shifted in the back seat, Mina scrolling through the schedule in front of her.
“We can reschedule the teachers association meeting if you would like, but you need the interview; you haven’t done one in almost a year.”
Rubbing the side of my head, I nodded and lay back. For some reason, I had the feeling someone was watching me. I knew it was all in my head. I understood it was just a product of learning about Emilio bugging my office, but that still didn’t make me feel better. What the fuck was wrong with him? If he wanted to kill me, he would have done it. If he wanted revenge, he could have taken it in that one moment. There was some giant piece of the puzzle I was missing. It was like staring at the Mona Lisa with her smile gone. You know what’s supposed to be there and how it’s supposed to look, and yet it just looks off.
“We’re here,” Mina stated when the car pulled to a stop in front of the building, and luckily the press weren’t there that day. I said nothing as the doors opened, and I stood in the exact same spot where I’d been shot down only a month before. I felt a lot of things; I just wasn’t able to express what they were. The air was far too hot for April and heat waves rippled through the sky, a dramatic change from the weak weather and rain we normally had that time of year.
“Mel?”
“I’m fine,” I stated, walking forward. When I entered the hospital, I noticed that nothing had changed since I’d left—nothing but a banner that now said ‘Chicago Strong’ at the entrance.
“Governor Callahan, we’re glad to finally see you up and about. How are you feeling?” Dr. Fortmen came over to me with a team of doctors, outstretching his arm.
“I’m feeling like my old self again, thanks to you.” I shook his hand, looking at the rest of them. “Thanks to all of you. How are the children?”
“Follow me.” He led the way as we walked down the halls. “Four of the children are still here and we have kept them in the same room so they don’t feel isolated. Luckily they are recovering well, physically, but mentally, they still jump at any loud noises. One of the four tore open his stitches one night after a nightmare.”
“And their parents?” I asked, stopping at the door with him. Through the window I saw them, all sitting at their children’s sides. They looked exhausted, but that didn’t stop them from laughing and playing with them.
“I thought you said there were four families?” I only counted three.
“The Valentinos.” He moved across the hall to another room, looking through the glass at a couple with brunette hair. “They were the ones that lost their son and daughter. Their second son, Toby, survived. The kids were all together when the shooting happened. They haven’t left the hospital since. We’ve set up beds and even allowed them to use the showers here. At first, we tried to keep Toby with the rest of the kids, but his condition… He’s the one who ripped his stitches. Of all the kids, he’s recovered the best, physically, but between his nightmares and refusing to eat, sleep, or even speak, he’s making himself sick. He won’t speak to the child psychotherapist either.”
He was the only one not playing or laughing. He just sat on his bed, staring out the window. His parents talked but they looked like they were talking for the sake of talking and weren’t really saying anything.
“How old is he?”
“He will be ten in July.”
“I want to speak with his family first.” I looked at the doctor toward Mina, who knocked on the door. His parents walked up to her and it only took a few moments before they stepped out of the room, looking at me.
“Governor, thank you so much for coming,” the father said. His eyes were so red it looked as if he had tried to claw them out. His handshake was weak and his smile fake.
“I’m so, so sorry about your loss.”
“Yeah…” His wife tried to say something, but nothing worked. “And thank you for coming. I’m sure you have a—”
“I have nothing more important.” I smiled, opening my arms and giving her a hug. God, I fucking hate hugging people.
No…please…no, don’t cry on me…damn it! I had to force myself not to cringe, slowly peeling away from her as she blew into a napkin.
“If neither of you mind, do you think I can talk to your son?” I questioned, glancing back at him.
“Huh? Our son? Why?” His father tensed up. “He’s not feeling—”
“My children were also involved in the other school shooting. My son also has had a hard time adjusting, but we finally managed to break through. I don’t know if I could just come by and say hello without at least reaching out to him.”
They glanced at each other and his mother crossed her arms over herself like she was trying to keep herself upright. “If—if you can do anything…okay.”
Her husband nodded and with tha
t, Mina held the door open for me. When they moved to follow, I stopped, “He might not want to talk if he feels you standing next to him. Is it possible to just watch us from a distance?”
Luckily they didn’t fight me on it, maybe because they were just too tired to. Taking the white rolling chair, I moved it over to his bedside. He didn’t bother looking over so I sat between his bed and the window.
His eyes were hazel, his brown hair messy; a few strands fell on his face and he didn’t brush them back. For a quick second, he focused on me, somewhat confused as to who I was, but didn’t say anything.
“I’m Melody, I was shot too.” I outstretched my hand to shake his but he didn’t move, so I took his hand and made him shake mine anyway. At that, he pulled back and shifted to face the other direction. Leaning back in my chair, I said, “I have a son your age. When he’s upset, he either blows up or gets real silent; it scares the shit out of me some days.”
The boy’s head snapped back, eyes wide.
“What?”
He didn’t answer.
“Shit,” I said again and he made a face. “Fuck. Damn it. Bloody hell. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. FUCK!”
The corner of his mouth turned up just a little.
“What, you’ve never heard a curse word before? Say it. I won’t tell your parents.”
He opened his mouth but then stopped, making me realize he had stopped talking because he was sad but had continued to not talk because he felt like everyone was trying to make him talk. He was being stubborn…and kids were allowed to be stubborn sometimes, especially when they were upset.
“Come on, I know you wanna…” I leaned closer. “This could be the one and only chance you get to say it to an adult and not get in trouble.”
Again he opened his mouth. “Fuck.”
“High five.” He left me hanging, making a face as if to say ‘not cool.’
“Are you going to ask me to talk about it? Because I don’t wanna talk. Kevin and Lizzy are dead and they aren’t coming back!” he screamed at me, on the verge of tears.
“I know. Dead people can’t come back. I’m not in here to make you feel better because the truth is you aren’t going to. You are always going to feel bad. So cry, get angry, but don’t just sit here and look out the window doing nothing. It’s not fair to your brother and sister. I don’t know them, but you giving up doesn’t really seem like something a brother and sister would want for their brother. I can’t promise you anything other than that the person who did this…will hurt more than you.”
“Can you?” He frowned, finally turning all the way around. “Can you hurt him?”
I smiled. “Absolutely, it’s kind of my specialty. I just need you to do a job for me.”
“What is it?”
“My son, Ethan, he’s going to need a friend like you.”
“You want me to be his friend? But what if I don’t like him?” He frowned. Smiling, I shrugged.
“You can use him for all his toys and leave.”
“You’re weird,” he replied. He was okay, as okay as a child in his situation could be, he just wanted someone to talk to him, not down to him, I could tell.
“Yeah, I know, but it’s the weird people who rule the world,” I said, rising from the chair.
“You’re going?” He frowned, looking back down at his hands. “My mom and dad keep crying and fighting. The doctors keep asking me how I am feeling…I don’t know. I don’t want to be here, but I don’t want to be there either.”
He nodded to the city outside his window.
“I have to, I’m one of the weird people who rule the world. You need to remember, Toby, your parents will always be sad too, the doctors will not leave you alone until you leave their hospital, and no one wants to go out there, you just kinda have to. It sucks, but that’s what we grownups do all the time.”
“I’ll do it,” he said when I moved to the door. “I’ll be your kid’s friend.”
I grinned. “Great, I’ll talk to your parents. But you should try getting out of bed and cleaning up, you kind of look sick.”
“I was shot.” He made a face at me.
“So was I! You don’t see me with a booger in my nose!” I exclaimed, and his eyes widened as he put his hands over his nose.
Laughing, I walked out of the room. The moment I did, his mother latched on to my arm.
“What did you say to him?” she begged. “He hasn’t said a word to us.”
In the corner of my eye, I saw Mina give me a look. “He just needed someone who wasn’t grieving. I asked him to come over to play with my sons. I hope we can work something out.”
“Thank you.” His father shook my hand more energetically this time. “Thank you.”
Nodding to them, Mina came over to me. When they walked back into the room, she lifted her phone for me to see the photo that was now trending online.
“I walked into this one.” Was this what he meant by ruining my reputation? By claiming we were having an affair? How childish.
“He’s releasing a statement already?” Mina asked, moving the phone to herself, clicking on the video.
What in the hell was wrong with this man?
“Melody…” Her eyes widened as she turned the screen back to me.
“What!” I snapped. Jesus Christ. “I do not have time for this.”
“Listen to what he’s saying!” She stuffed the earbud into my ear, replaying the video.
He stood in front of the camera, his whole body serious. “Just a few minutes ago I, along with many of you, saw a photo taken out of context by media. My advisors and staff tell me it is better not to comment on this. However, due to the double standard in our media coverage of females in power, I felt it would not be right to stand by as one of the strongest and finest governors this state has ever had is forced to comment on such a torrid photo. Not only is it not true, it is not possible, because Melody Nicci Giovanni Callahan is my half-sister.”
I wasn’t a fainting type of person.
Nothing shocked me.
But all of sudden, I couldn’t breathe anymore.
TWENTY
“All her young life she has tried to please her father, never quite realizing that, as a girl, she never could.”
~ Alice Walker
LIAM
“She’s not all right,” Mina whispered to me when I got to the door of her office. “I tried to tell her to stay in the hospital but she wouldn’t.”
“I got it, go home,” I said, opening the door. She sat on the floor of her office, her heels off to the side, the blinds closed, a bottle of red wine in her hands.
“He’s lying,” she said, as she drank from the bottle. The wine spilled over the corner of her mouth but she didn’t care. She drank until she needed to breathe and then wiped the side of her mouth before adding, “That’s what I first told myself. He was lying or he has to be insane. But then I thought to myself, Melody, why were you so shaken when you looked at him? What was wrong? I realized it’s because he looks like Orlando. His eyes, he has my father’s eyes. And when I realized that, I thought to myself, how stupid am I? Of course, my father could have another kid. It wasn’t like he was celibate. I clearly remember women coming in and out of his room. I forgot that men like to fuck multiple women because everyone in the Callahan clan is so passionately in love with their spouses. How did I forget that? It is the number one thing you learn as a female. And just as I am kicking myself, I start to laugh, Liam. I’m laughing my ass off because guess what?”
I said nothing and she lifted the bottle to drink again.
“I have a brother and he is trying to kill me.” She snorted, laughing again. “Think about it. First my mother, who should have been dead, came out of nowhere and tried to kill me. Then my grandfather, who was the head of the FBI, tried to kill me. Now I have a half-brother, who is the mayor, also trying to kill me. Liam, I’m a living breathing telenovela!” She laughed harder. “I’ve even come up with a name for my life: ‘Las pasiones de Me
lody!’ I am currently casting for the next season where we are going to introduce you to my evil twin sister who is going to murder me and try to live my life. But!” She held her hands up. “I won’t be dead. I’ll come back in some dramatic way to kill her but, oh no, she’s pregnant. And even though you feel betrayed by evil twin Melody, you can’t let me kill your child! It’s soap opera gold!”
“Are you done?” I asked, hoping we could fast-forward through her crazy talk. She had an imagination, no doubt, and it only came out when she was either far too drunk or pregnant.
She took a deep breath and relaxed back against her desk, lifting up a piece of paper. “He sent me this a letter Orlando apparently gave him years ago. The handwriting is my father’s, that is for sure.”
Walking over to her, I took it, once again proud that I had taken the time to learn how to read and write in Italian.
Emilio,
If you are reading this letter, it means your mother has told you who you are: a Giovanni, the son of Orlando Giovanni, a man who came to this country from the small town of Bosa with nothing except my grandfather’s pocket watch and a new pair of shoes I stole from my neighbor’s son. Of all the questions you have for me, the most important one to you would be why I am not in your life. It’s very simple: our name is ‘Giovanni’, the one shown favor, but it is actually a lie. Nothing ever comes easy for us, nothing is given, we must take everything we want and defend it until there is no air in our lungs. My whole life I fought for my name. I will not just give it to you. You will fight and only if you survive can you stand as my son. Can you rule as I have ruled, as the head of the Italians? With our people, respect is earned, so earn your name. Fight for your name. Until you can do that, you can never be my son.
