Heart of a Killer

by Yolanda Wallace

  “That’s the case just about everywhere you go, isn’t it? You seem to be doing okay for yourself now, though. What is it you do again?”

  “I’m a venture capitalist.”

  “Like that Elton Musk guy?”

  “Elon.”

  “Yeah, him.”

  “I don’t have nearly as many controversies swirling around me as he does, but we perform the same functions, yes.”

  “You must make a decent living then.”

  “To put it mildly, yes.”

  “Good. Brooklyn’s fortunate enough that she doesn’t need anyone to provide for her, but I don’t want her to get stuck with someone who can’t provide for herself. She’s sweet, but she doesn’t need to be anyone’s sugar mama.”

  “Definitely not an issue in our case.”

  “I’m happy to hear that.”

  “What do you do?”

  “I’m in construction. I used to pound a jackhammer for a living. That’s how I got these huge guns of mine.” He patted one of his massive forearms before he stopped and rubbed his belly. “But I’m a foreman now so that’s how I got this. I spend my days telling the younger guys which concrete to break up rather than doing it myself. It’s not rocket science, but it’s an honest living, and it’s helped me keep a roof over my family’s heads so I can’t complain about it. Hey, let me see your hands.”

  Confused, Santana set her rod down and held out her hands, palms up. Instead of reading her future, Sal read her past.

  “You might be living in a penthouse now,” he said, “but I can see you know a thing or two about hard work. Brooklyn said you had it rough coming up. Don’t look so surprised. She and her mother tell each other everything. Connie likes to tease me about not being able to keep a secret, but she can’t keep anything under her hat either. So if you’ve got something you don’t want the rest of the world to know about, you’d best keep it to yourself.”

  His comment made her question if she could be as forthcoming with Brooklyn as she planned to be. “I’ll keep that in mind, thanks.”

  * * *

  Brooklyn sipped her wine as she and her mother sat on the back deck and pretended not to be watching what was going on by the lake.

  “How do you think they’re doing out there?” her mother asked.

  “I haven’t seen them catch anything yet, which means we’ll get to hear one story after another about the one that got away.”

  “I wasn’t talking about the fishing. I was talking about the two of them. How do you think they’re getting along?”

  Brooklyn took a long look at Vilma and her father, but their body language didn’t give anything away. Her father sat slouched in his chair like he was ready for a nap and Vilma sat ramrod straight as if she were ready to snap to attention. Standard behavior for both of them. Her father was so relaxed she often wondered if he even had a pulse, and there was a coiled intensity about Vilma that never seemed to dissipate, no matter if she was on the move or, like now, sitting perfectly still.

  “I can’t tell. Can you?”

  Her mother flashed an indulgent smile. “He likes her. If he didn’t, he and I would be on our way back to Queens by now. Remember when you were nine and you invited one of your classmates to the house for a sleepover?”

  “Are you talking about Gillian?”

  “Yeah, that was her name.”

  “When she asked me to partner up with her in our science class, I thought that meant she liked me. It turned out she was just trying to suck up to me because she thought I could help her get an easy A without having to put in the work.”

  “Sal saw through her act right away. He made the poor girl so miserable she was ready to go home even before we’d sat down for dinner.”

  “God, I was so upset that night. I remember telling him I hated him and locking myself in my room after Gillian’s parents came to pick her up. Did I ever apologize to him?”

  “You didn’t have to because he knew you didn’t mean what you said.” Her mother rested a hand on her arm. “No matter how old you get, he’s always going to look out for you. We both are. That’s the reason you invited us up here this weekend, isn’t it?”

  “I wanted you to meet Vilma.”

  “Yes, because you wanted us to give you our blessing.”

  “Do I have it?”

  “I like what I see.” Her mother held up a cautionary finger. “So far. Ask me again when I have less of a buzz. As the kids say, this wine is on freak.”

  Brooklyn couldn’t help but laugh at her mother’s valiant attempt to be hip. “I love you, Mom. Don’t ever change.”

  “If I did, how would you and the rest of the family be able to recognize me? Oops, we’ve got action.”

  Brooklyn returned her attention to the lake, where Vilma was out of her chair and running toward the water. “What is she doing?”

  “I think she lost her fishing pole.”

  After Brooklyn lowered her gaze, she spotted Vilma’s fishing rod snaking across the ground. The reel was spinning crazily as the rod made a beeline for the water. Vilma obviously had a fish on the line. Instead of taking the hook and a few inches of broken line, the creature seemed determined to take the rod and reel, too.

  Vilma dove for the rod just as the tip of it disappeared into the water. She scrambled to her feet soaking wet but reel in hand.

  “That’s it, kid,” Brooklyn heard her father say. “Now reel him in.”

  Vilma braced the end of the rod against her thigh as she cranked the reel for all she was worth. The returning line thrummed against the water as the slack slowly disappeared. The rod bent at a precarious angle when the line became taut.

  Brooklyn and her mother rose to their feet as they continued to watch the spectacle play out.

  “Oh, she’s got a big one,” her mother said.

  Brooklyn knew better than to judge a fish’s size by how much of a fight it put up before giving in. Some fish she had caught had felt like whales when she had them on the line only to turn out to be minnows once she pulled them out of the water.

  She pulled her mother back when she tried to move closer. “Let’s stay here until she reels it in. Pop’s superstitious. If the fish breaks the line after we show up, he’ll blame us for ruining his luck.”

  “He’s the same way whenever one of his favorite teams is playing. If someone leaves the room before the team goes on a hot streak, they aren’t allowed to come back until the team starts messing up again.”

  “It used to drive Stefano mad when he’d get up for snacks and wouldn’t be able to reclaim his seat until halftime. No wonder he spends so much of his time in the basement. He’s probably waiting for some team’s hot streak to end.”

  “In a sense, we’re all waiting for something.”

  As she watched Vilma and her father share high fives over the huge fish Vilma had caught, Brooklyn had a feeling her wait might have come to an end.

  * * *

  Santana raised the largemouth bass over her head to acknowledge Brooklyn and Connie cheering her on from their perch on the back deck.

  “That’s a nice one, kid,” Sal said as she carefully took the hook out of the fish’s mouth and placed her catch in a lidded basket. “A ten-pounder, at least. One more like that and we’ll be set for tonight and tomorrow. Your technique needs some work,” he added, pointing at the dirt and leaves clinging to her wet clothes, “but I can’t argue with the results.”

  “I’ll let you catch the next one,” she said as she handed him another beer.

  “Sure thing. Just don’t expect me to do a belly flop, too. I’m liable to displace a whole lot more water than you did. You should come to dinner next Sunday. You could use a big plate of Connie’s manicotti.”

  “I’m looking forward to it already.”

  He gave her a pat on the back and she was surprised by how good it felt. Not only to be acknowledged but to be accepted as well. The good vibes didn’t last long, though, because what he said next made her tense
up all over again.

  “I’ve heard you don’t have a relationship with your father. I’m sorry to hear that. I truly am.”

  She waited to hear what point he was trying to make before she allowed herself to react.

  “Connie and I live in a close-knit neighborhood. Brooklyn’s friends have always felt like my kids, too. I know you and I don’t know each other very well. Hell, we barely know each other at all. But if it’s all right with you, I’d like to add you to the list. If you need someone to shoot the breeze with while we drink a few beers and dip some worms in the water, I’m your guy. Unless you break Brooklyn’s heart. Then I’ll be obligated to respond by breaking every bone in your body.”

  “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

  “I’m glad we understand each other. Don’t expect me to give you an official welcome to the family, though. That’s Connie’s job. I’m the first line of defense. She’s a much more difficult obstacle to overcome.”

  “Do you have any words of wisdom for me?”

  “Just three.” He crooked his finger at her, beckoning her closer. She leaned toward him, anxious to hear what he was about to impart. “Don’t fuck up.”

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  “That wasn’t such a bad first day,” Brooklyn said as she and Vilma sipped glasses of whiskey on the front porch after dinner. “You and my dad did a great job grilling the fish.”

  “I didn’t have to do much. I just had to pass him the appropriate tool when he asked for it and hold the serving tray when he was done.”

  “Both very important jobs.” She tapped her glass against Vilma’s. “To the sexiest sous chef ever.”

  Vilma set the swing they were sitting in into motion as they watched the moonlight shining on the still water. She started when she heard a twig snap under the weight of something heavy. “Remind me to call my travel agent. She said we were supposed to be alone up here.”

  “Relax,” Brooklyn said. “It’s probably just a squirrel searching for a lost nut.”

  “Or a bear looking to make a meal out of one of us.”

  “Bears usually hang out close to the campsites because that’s where most of the free food’s found. Cabin owners are usually a lot better about policing their trash cans.”

  “You’ve been up here before?”

  “The first summer camp I ever attended was held a few miles from here. The first few days, I didn’t want to be there. By the time camp ended, I didn’t want to leave.”

  “I’ve never done anything like this before.”

  Brooklyn often forgot how different Vilma’s backstory was from hers. “You’ve never gone camping or swum in a lake?”

  “I used to sleep outside every night when I didn’t have a place to call home. As for swimming in a lake, this afternoon is as close as I want to get for a while. Your father was right. The water is cold enough to make your ass pucker.”

  “Oh, my God, he said that? Sometimes, I think he doesn’t realize words are coming out of his mouth rather than rattling around inside his head.”

  “At least you always know where you stand with him. Kind of like you. Now I know where you inherited the trait.”

  “I’m trying to get better at hiding my feelings.”

  “Don’t,” Vilma said earnestly. “I like the fact that you’re an open book.”

  “Being easy to read works in my personal life. Not so much in my professional one. I often have to be diplomatic with my employees, and sometimes I have to flat out lie to my competitors. That’s hard to do when my true thoughts are written all over my face.”

  “But your vivid expressions make making love with you even more of a rush.”

  Brooklyn buried her face in her hands. “You make me sound like an adult film actress. A bad one, at that.”

  “Speaking of a porn movie, are you hearing what I’m hearing?”

  At first, Brooklyn didn’t hear anything other than a group of bullfrogs reciting the lines from an old beer commercial. Then she heard the distinctive sounds of a couple having sex. Not just any couple. Her parents.

  “I guess they weren’t as tired as they said they were,” Vilma said. “There must be something in the air up here.”

  Brooklyn didn’t want to be reminded that, a few hours earlier, she and Vilma had spent some serious quality time doing exactly what her parents were doing now. She felt like crawling under one of the rocks the croaking bullfrogs were perched on. She was living proof that her parents had always had a healthy sex life, but this was the first time she’d been an earwitness to it.

  “Look on the bright side,” Vilma said.

  “Is there one?” she asked as the intimate act they were listening to seemed to approach its anxiously awaited conclusion. “Because from where I’m sitting, the light at the end of the tunnel is a locomotive bearing down on me.”

  “An unfortunate analogy, given our current circumstances, don’t you think?”

  Brooklyn groaned as the phallic imagery of what she had described hit home. “Just give me something positive I can glean from all this.”

  “When we sit down for breakfast in the morning and you ask your parents if they enjoyed themselves tonight, you’ll know they won’t be lying when they respond in the affirmative.” Vilma ducked away from Brooklyn’s attempt to punch her in the arm. “Too soon?”

  “Much too soon. Now shut up and pass the whiskey.” She started giggling when she finally began to view the situation as humorous rather than cringe-inducing. “And slip my parents a couple of cigarettes while you’re at it.”

  “Given the audio evidence, I think they deserve a whole pack.”

  Brooklyn wiped her streaming eyes as her laughter continued unabated. “I’m not going to be able to look either one of them in the eye tomorrow without turning several shades of red. Are we supposed to sit across from them and pretend we don’t know they were hooking up tonight?”

  “You said you wanted to work on your poker face. This seems like the perfect opportunity for you to do just that.”

  Brooklyn took a deep breath and slowly released it. “You know what? If this is the worst thing that happens this weekend, I’ll take it.”

  “Thank you for finally lightening up. Life is only as serious as you make it out to be.”

  Brooklyn rested her head in Vilma’s lap as the swing continued to slowly sway back and forth. She wished she could bottle this moment and save it for when she was having a bad day because she had never felt luckier—or more loved.

  * * *

  Santana woke early and decided to go for a run. She slipped out of bed without rousing Brooklyn and changed from her pajamas into her workout gear. She was trying to find the right mix of songs to play during her run when she heard someone raising a racket in the kitchen. She kissed Brooklyn on the cheek and closed the door behind her as she headed out of the room to investigate.

  “Do you need some help?”

  “Yes, please,” Connie said with an exasperated sigh. “I’m dying for a cup of coffee, but I can’t figure out how to make this machine work. My coffeemaker at home is a lot simpler than this. I fill it with water, spoon some grounds into the filter, and wait for the carafe to fill. I don’t even know where to start with this thing.”

  “No worries. I’ve got you covered. First of all, what flavor would you like?”

  “I get a choice?”

  Santana tried not to smile as she opened one of the cabinets to reveal a selection of coffee pods designed to fit the single-serve coffeemaker. “Just pretend you’re at Starbucks.”

  “Oh, I don’t want to do that. Then I’ll have to make up a name to give the barista and add in all sorts of fancy extras I really don’t want.”

  Santana reached for one of the small plastic pods. “Basic black, it is. Let me show you how this works. First you place the pod in here and close the lid.”

  “Uh-huh. I’m with you so far.”

  “Then you fill the chamber with water and select your preferred serving s
ize. Would you like a small cup or an extra large one?”

  “Small’s fine. I slept really well last night for some reason. It must be the mountain air.”

  “I told Brooklyn the same thing.”

  “Great minds think alike. Sal might need the extra caffeine, though. He’s never been much of an early riser. He and Brooklyn could sleep all day if you let them.”

  “So I’ve noticed.” Santana punched the appropriate buttons and waited for the coffee to brew. “Here you go.”

  “Bless you.” Connie took the cup and blew on the steaming beverage before she took a tentative sip. “Perfect. Aren’t you having any?”

  “Actually, I was about to go for a run on one of the trails.”

  “I was planning on exploring those today. If you don’t mind waiting or moving at a slower pace, I’d love to go with you.”

  Santana had been looking forward to having some time to herself, but she didn’t know how to refuse Connie’s invitation without being rude. “Sure. That sounds great.” She pulled out a chair and waited for Connie to claim it before she sat across from her. “How is your room? Did you and Sal have any problems getting to sleep?”

  “Oh, gosh, no. We didn’t realize how much the drive took out of us until we finished dinner. Both of us slept like rocks. We fell asleep as soon as our heads hit the pillow. Did you and Brooklyn rest well?”

  Santana fought to maintain her composure. “She was startled by a few things she heard, but once she got to sleep, she slept like a log.”

  “That’s always been the case with her. The rest of my kids, they’d fall asleep as soon as they closed their eyes. Brooklyn would fight it as hard as she could. It was like she was afraid she’d miss something.”

  “What was she like as a child?”

  “Just like she is now: funny, curious, and way too smart for her own good. I swear I don’t know where she gets her brains from. Sal and I both did okay when we were in school, but if you add our IQs together, I doubt they’d equal hers. Don’t get me wrong. I’m proud of all of my kids. Each one has something different to offer. But Brooklyn is something special. I realized that the moment I held her in my arms the first time. When she looked at me, there was such awareness in her eyes. Like she already knew who she was and what she wanted to do with her life. I hope she feels that kind of connection one day. She’s always said she’s too much of a kid to have one of her own, but she has time to change her mind. Would you like to be a mother someday?”