by Cora Kenborn
Those words will haunt me until I go to my grave. The words I spoke to a scared little girl as she held tightly to my arm, begging me with tears in her eyes not to leave her in a strange house.
I didn’t know what to say. Kids weren’t my thing. Never had one, never wanted one. They were just liabilities that people like me used against other people like me. But something about Alexandra Romanov got to me.
She thought I was a good man, just like she thought Dominic was an angel. Neither of us deserved that kind of devotion from such an innocent soul. Better she learned that then than to end up like her siblings one day.
Bending down, I took her chin in my hand, looked her in those trusting green eyes, and told her the truth. “I’m not the hero you seek, little one. I’m the monster hiding in the dark. So, run as far and as fast as you can, because if you keep knocking on the devil’s door, eventually, he’ll answer.”
I never expected her to use my own words as a final goodbye.
Laying the bouquet of red roses beside me on the marble bench, my fingers trace the engraved words, years of regret and searching finally at peace.
Brenda McCallum
Beloved mother and shining star
Brenda McCallum.
I never knew her name. She refused to tell me. The beautiful young girl behind the deli counter with long dark hair and deep blue eyes the color of the Pacific. It was her shy but mysterious smile that captured my attention. I couldn’t take my eyes off her. The guys busted my balls, but I couldn’t get her out of my head.
I went back the next day, and when she saw me, she gave me the same shy smile and handed me my sandwich. I didn’t even have to order. She remembered.
Meatball sub. Extra parmesan.
I waited until her shift ended and took her to dinner at Amalia. Just the look on her face did something to me. It changed me. One night was all we had. But I never forgot my beautiful dark-haired girl, or her shy, mysterious smile. Even after waking up the next morning and finding her gone, I still searched for her. I went back to the deli and dragged the owner into the alley with a gun to his head, but it was all for nothing. The name she gave them was a fake.
I didn’t give up. For years, I followed the same routine, visiting that same deli, day after fucking day. But I never saw her again. I never knew her name.
“You know what’s in there. You’ve always known it.”
Maybe Alexandra was right. Maybe in some way, I have always known it. There was just something about that boy that got under my skin from the minute I caught him stealing my wallet. I chuckle to myself. The balls on that kid—like steel. Not too many fifteen-year-olds would look down the barrel of a gun and mouth off to Luciano Ricci.
That’s why I did what I did.
Because, like I told Dominic the last time I saw him, most people don’t get a second chance to make things right. If you do, don’t fuck it up.
One Year Ago
Something doesn’t feel right.
I can’t explain it. It’s just an ache in my bones that makes me restless. Since Dominic walked out, I’ve been on edge. More than once, I’ve had my phone in my hand but put it down each time.
He’s a grown man. This is his problem.
She’s a grown woman. She’s not my problem.
But on the fourth pace around my desk, my eye catches the calendar. I don’t have a family. No wife or kids. My parents are both dead. What do I care that it’s Christmas Eve?
I don’t.
But that grown man and woman, they sure as hell do. And after the shit I laid down tonight and the truth I have no doubt Dominic dug out of the bowels of the blue vault, I don’t know where their heads are at.
I’m pulled out of my thoughts as my phone chimes with an incoming text. Grabbing it off my desk, I read the one word staring back at me.
Goodbye.
Before I can change my mind, I’m in my car, driving to Bel Air. It’s not smart. The last thing I need to be seen doing is driving onto Romanov property on the damn anniversary of the murders.
Fucking stupid, Luciano. Real fucking stupid.
But I don’t even get close to the gate before I see it swing open, and an Audi tears through it like a bat out of hell. It’s too dark to see who’s behind the wheel, so I follow it.
Again, stupid, but I’m too far in to turn back now.
“The fuck are you doing, boy?” I mutter under my breath as I floor the gas pedal, hitting ridiculous speeds trying to keep up with him as he takes sharp turns like a suicidal moron.
Finally, he slams on the brakes at the end of Beechwood and flings the driver’s side door open. Only it’s not Dominic. It’s Alexandra.
She’s dressed in a thin, flowing nightgown and—what the fuck? Is she barefooted?
Pulling off the side of the road behind her, I throw the car in park and take off running as she heads toward the Hollywood Reservoir hiking trail.
Shit!
How in the hell is she running on unpaved dirt so fast without shoes? I can’t keep up with her as she disappears down the winding trail, the overhanging branches swallowing her along with the night.
“Alexandra!” I growl, but I have no idea if she hears me. I’ve lost sight of her.
Jesus Christ, I’m out of shape.
The hiking trail is long, and by the time I wedge myself through a newly-cut opening in the chain link fence and make it to the bridge, I’m gasping for air and my chest feels like it’s been beat with a branding iron. I stop for just a minute and rest my hands on my thighs to catch my breath.
That’s when I hear her. I look up, and my heart slams against my chest. Alexandra is standing on the other side of the railing, one hand wrapped around the top and the other clutching something against her chest. I want to run and jerk her the hell back over, but there’s too much space between us. I’d never make it in time.
“Remember what you always used to say?” she says, and there’s something different in her voice. “You can’t drown in the rain as long as you run from the storm. I don’t need to run anymore, Angel. The storm is over.”
The storm?
She speaks again, “What are you saying, Alexandra?”
Angel. Alexandra.
Oh fuck.
Her chin turns to the side as she answers herself again. “I’m saying you were right all along. Some people are just meant to drown.”
Son of a bitch. She’s going to jump.
After all I’ve done for fifteen goddamn years, she’s going to jump in this fucking water. I don’t think anymore. I run like hell, and the sound of my dress shoes slamming against the concrete causes her to turn. “Alexandra, no! Stop!”
She narrows her eyes, peering through the darkness, and when she sees it’s me, she smiles. “I knew you’d come. Still following me, huh, Luciano?”
“What the hell are you doing?” I yell, pacing while running a hand through my hair. “Climb back over that rail! Are you crazy?”
“That question is a little inappropriate considering the circumstances, don’t you think?” she says, giggling as she glances over at the invisible fucking person apparently standing beside her.
I stop where I am and glare at her. She thinks this is funny? “Come on, kid. I’ve watched you grow up. I know you can’t swim.” I think of Dominic. How it will kill him when they pull her body from the bottom of the reservoir. Taking a calming breath, I hold out my hand. “You don’t want to do this. I helped you once, and I can do it again.”
Alexandra shakes her head. “I can’t stay here anymore. You know this is the way it has to be.” She motions between us. “This has to end with me. We both know if you keep knocking on the devil’s door, eventually, he’ll answer.”
I can’t look at her, so I turn my head just as something sails through the air and lands by my feet. Glancing down, I see it’s a large envelope.
“You know what’s in there,” she says. “You’ve always known it.”
“Alexandra…”
&n
bsp; She holds out her hand as if waiting for someone to take it. I call out her name again, and she hesitates but doesn’t look back. “Everything is in there. Everything you’ve wanted to know, everything you need to know, and everything you have to know.”
“Why?” It’s the only word I can get out. I can’t save her. Not this time.
“Dominic told me you taught him never to believe in wishes and hope. That they were useless weapons. Do you still believe that?”
“I don’t know.”
“Sometimes hope is all we have left, Luciano. You gave that to me once. I need you to let us have it again. Not everyone in life gets a second chance.”
Those words chill me to the bone. She never looks at me, and I never see her face, but there’s no need. That little girl who held tight to my arm while hugging a pink teddy bear against her chest stands right in front of me, staring at me with her sad green eyes and tattered dress.
And she smiles.
That’s the moment I understand.
Us.
“Be free, little one,” I whisper.
With the wind whispering at her back, she takes one step forward.
And falls.
I wait until I’m back in my office to open the envelope. Lighting a cigar, I sit back in my chair and unclasp the pin. As I pull out the papers one by one, I forget about the cigar, dropping it in the ashtray and letting it burn.
The first thing I come to is a birth certificate. It’s old and yellowed by time, but there’s no mistaking the truth. I scrub a hand over my face and read the words again.
Dominic Anthony McCallum
Mother: Brenda Frances McCallum
Father: Luciano Anthony Ricci
The father’s name is handwritten in blue ink. I smile. Maybe I never knew her name, but she knew mine. She gave Dominic my middle name.
Alexandra was right. Somehow, I think I’ve always known.
Clearing my throat, I set the certificate aside and pull out two handwritten notes. Unfolding the first one, I start reading.
Luciano,
I wish I could’ve given you more notice, but texts can be retrieved, and we wanted your hands as clean as possible. Still, I knew I could count on you to come find me.
You already know what else is in this envelope. There’s a memorial bench at the estate you can visit. I put it there for you. Hilda knows you are to always have access.
Speaking of Hilda, she is telling the police how I remembered the abuse and killing my mother, but when she arrived at the house the next morning, Dominic and I were both missing.
I made sure to leave bloodstained sheets and a gun with my fingerprints. The blood will match Dominic’s. Don’t ask questions you don’t want to know the answers to.
There’s a sealed letter in here for Detective Javier Rubio. It’s a full confession. Make sure he gets it. I was told you’re to tell him it’s another “tip” and that he will understand. Don’t worry about money. Hilda told me about an off-shore bank account. We’ll be fine.
The only way Dominic and I can live, is to die. We have too many eyes on us to ever be at peace any other way.
Never regret the past, Luciano. I don’t.
Love,
Alexandra
Folding the letter, I tuck it back into the envelope and read the remaining one. This one is much shorter, with sharp printed letters.
Luciano,
I think I’ve always known, too. Mom didn’t tell us because she feared I’d follow in my father’s footsteps. What she didn’t understand is fifteen years ago, I learned fate always finds a way.
Everything the media needs to know is in Rubio’s note. Plain and simple.
Who knows? Maybe fifty years from now, we’ll be Hollywood folklore. Wouldn’t that be some shit?
Dominic
I tuck everything back inside the envelope, stopping only to pull out the mentioned smaller sealed one meant for Detective Rubio. Then, sliding the trash can out from under my desk, I drop both letters and the birth certificate inside, flick open my Zippo lighter, and watch as they all go up in bright yellow flames.
“Goodbye, son.”
Epilogue
Dominic
Five Years Later
“Mama!” Violet squeals as she takes off running, her long, dark hair swinging all around her.
Angel bends down, a wide smile breaking across her face as she drops every bag in her hand and scoops her up. I stop where I am and just stare. Every time I see her, she takes my breath away. Not because she’s beautiful but because she’s mine. Because we made it.
Not many people could survive what my Angel did. But then again, ever since the first moment she kissed my hand and asked me if I was God, she’s fought to live and mark her place in this world.
Yes, my Angel.
She never told me much, and I didn't ask. All I know is when I cut through the fence and saw her swim to our meeting place on the other side of the reservoir, she spoke the three words I’ll never forget.
“Alexandra is gone.”
She was right. In five years, I haven’t seen or heard her. The only person in Angel’s head is Angel. My Angel. My rook. The woman I fell in love with.
And the one who knew how to swim.
“How did it go?” I ask, leading the two of them out of the Naples airport. “Anything new and exciting this time?”
Angel just gives me that secret smile of hers. The one that drives me crazy because she knows it pushes my buttons. “Maybe. Let’s get this little one home first, and I’ll tell you.”
“Nooo,” Violet whines, rubbing her eyes. “Nooo, segreti!”
Angel just laughs, handing off our now pissed-off daughter to me as she opens the door. “Great. I’m being chastised by a bilingual four-year-old. You just had to pick Italy, didn’t you?”
I shrug. “I like pasta.”
She rolls her eyes. “Bullshit. You like being near your roots.”
Violet lifts her sleepy head off my shoulder. “Non si dicci, Mama!”
Angel’s eyebrows shoot up. “Did she just scold me for cursing?”
Now I’m really laughing because—I’m sorry—that shit’s funny.
“What else have you been teaching her while I’ve been gone?”
Buckling Violet into her car seat, I give her a kiss on her forehead and climb into the driver’s seat. “Maybe to have better aim than you.”
She pretends to be offended. “This again? I shot you in the ass. Would you prefer if I’d circled around to the front?”
I glance in the backseat, making sure Violet is asleep. “Dick threats are not funny, rook.”
She just smirks and tucks a lock of her short blonde hair behind her ear.
Five years later, and I’m still not used to her being a blonde. I don’t like it, but it’s a necessary evil. Just like the long hair that’s currently tied at my nape and driving me batshit is necessary. Like the contact lenses that turn her eyes blue and my eyes brown are necessary evils.
With death comes sacrifice.
As we make our way back to our villa in Sorrento, Angel tells me all about her trip to Los Angeles. I just shake my head. I don’t know why she feels the need to do this every year. To me, it’s tempting fate a little too much, but she claims it’s something she just has to do.
Who am I to question that?
Each time, she always takes the Infamous Hollywood Murders Bus Tour and strikes up random conversations with other ticket holders, especially when the tour stops outside the gates of the Romanov estate. Twenty years after the original murders, it’s still a hotspot and source of heated controversy.
People are free to think what they want. Only two people know the details of what happened that night, and as far as the world is concerned, both of them took it to the grave.
By the time we make it to the villa, Violet is wide awake. Once inside, she grabs her newest treasure, a pink teddy bear, and holds it high above her head while skipping around.
Shit.
I meant to intercept that before Angel got back, but with all the excitement, it slipped my mind. An oversight which has come back to bite me in the ass.
Angel folds her arms across her chest. “Where did she get that?”
I scratch the back of my head, trying to come up with an answer that doesn’t sound pulled out of my ass, when my sweet, angelic-faced daughter sells me the fuck out.
“It’s from Nonny Moose!”
Traitor.
Angel shifts a narrowed gaze toward me and cocks an eyebrow. “Nonny Moose, again huh?”
Of all the times for my kid to not throw out some weird English-Italian hybrid shit, she chooses now.
Angel smiles at Violet, her voice gentle. “Go set up a tea party, Vi. I’ll be there in a minute.”
Violet’s pale blue eyes brighten. “Okay, Mama.”
As soon as Violet is out of earshot, Angel purses her lips. “Another ‘anonymous’ delivery?” Shaking her head, she chuckles and turns to face the glass door where she stares out at the Mediterranean. “Luciano is spoiling her.”
She’s not wrong. Violet looks forward to her monthly surprises from the man she’s called “Nonny Moose” ever since hearing Angel and I refer to the sender as anonymous.
I have no idea how he found us, or how he knows Violet even exists. But I’m not surprised. He has always been our protector. Not even death could break a habit like that.
Apparently, death can’t break the chains of a lost love, either. According to news reports, a shell corporation purchased the Romanov estate shortly after Rubio had Alexandra declared dead.
However, no one has ever moved in or claimed ownership. The corporation simply maintains the property and provides for the staff.
But Angel and I know it was never the lure of owning a piece of Hollywood history that prompted the purchase. It was the memorial bench tucked away near the back of the estate.
After thirty-seven years, Luciano finally found his deli girl. He’d never let anyone keep him from her again.
