by Cee Bowerman
“To be honest, one of those was partially right. I’m going to tell you now, because it isn’t a secret any more. I couldn’t tell you then because, honestly, by being close to you I put you in danger every single day. But I fell in love with both of you the first day I walked into that school and just couldn’t stop myself from getting close to both of you. You sucked me in. I knew it was wrong, but you were my girls. You were my family. I imagined that my life could slow to a stop here, I could marry Sam and make lots of gorgeous babies and we could all buy houses right next to each other. We could talk over the back fence while our kids played, have cookouts every weekend and live happily ever after.” I smiled at them both and then looked down and fiddled with my coffee mug.
“To sum it up, I was born to an Irish mom and an Italian dad. They loved each other so much they got past the background problems and mostly told their families to piss off. I was born in Chicago. My father was an accountant. My mother owned a hair salon. Dad was straight for a long time, but eventually landed in the family business. Everything was fine until I was about 12 and then the whole vibe in our family changed. My parents fought a lot, my Dad was hardly ever home. It was tense and stressful for almost two years. Then the shit hit the fan. I know now that my Dad was approached by a Federal agent who knew that he was doing the books to cover whatever mob things the family was into. My Dad made a bargain with them that he would give them information and then they would take us and keep us safe.” I looked up to see that both ‘Drea and Steph were leaned in and looking at me with laser focus.
“Holy shit, you are in the mafia?” Only ‘Drea could make that sound cool. I just shook my head.
“My Dad uncovered some things that one of his uncle’s men was hiding and ratted him out to the feds. His uncle found out and of course was pissed and sent a man named Sinclair to kill my parents and me. The feds raided a few of my uncle’s properties. There was a shootout at about the same time Sinclair showed at our house. My uncle was killed. We didn’t know it at the time, and of course my parents never found out, but the feds thought they had nothing on my Dad with my uncle dead. But he had already given Sinclair his money and his assignment. Sinclair was a psycho who loved the chase. Even after he found out there was no reason to kill us he never stopped trying to find me because I had seen him.” I paused for a minute. I closed my eyes and tried to gather my thoughts. I realized it was going to be even harder than I thought it would to talk about my parents to anyone other than a disinterested fed. I felt the whiskey bottle slide in front of me and I opened my eyes.
“I’ve got to do this sober or it won’t come out.”
“Honey you tell us what you want to tell us, and you stop when you want to stop. We have the next 60 years or so to get this shit out in the open.” Stephanie put her hand on my arm and leaned in. “Drea and I can both see where this is headed. You didn’t live here with your parents, you came with your Uncle. You lost your parents.” Tears slid down her face and she squeezed my arm before she sat back.
“I was turned over to a handler at the FBI. They had a lot on Sinclair but were waiting to get more on him and also my Great Uncle. They thought that with the information I had they could use it to add to the case they were making against the family. They tracked down my Mom’s brother, Uncle Carl, and he and I got new names and were planted in another town far away. We lived there a while, then had to uproot quick and move again. Colorado, I think was the second place. We hated all the damn snow. But word came that someone was onto us, so we got new names and moved again. We went through a lot of places before we made it to Texas. I wasn’t able to go to school much, so I did a lot of reading on my own. For some reason Texas fascinated me. I thought there were enough badasses in this state and enough people owned guns that surely we would be safe here. From everything I read, people would help you if you needed it and protected women and children. So I randomly chose a spot on the map and here we were. And then I met the two of you and I was planted. I told Joe, I mean Uncle Carl, that I would never leave here, no matter what they said I had to do.” I finally reached out and grabbed the whiskey bottle. I focused on it as I used my fingertips to spin it around.
I took a few breaths to get ready to tell them the next part. The part they could remember a little bit about. Prince Chandler came into the kitchen and sat across from me at the table.
“He found us. But he didn’t come straight to us that time. He changed his game. He sent flowers. I
was with Sam at the cookout that night, do you remember, Steph? You were sitting next to me and that guy asked you if your Mom liked the flowers he delivered that day. You told him she loved them but she was confused about who sent them to her. She thought it was a mistake.” I looked at ‘Drea.
“You said your Mom and Gran both got flowers that day too but there was no card. I thought that was weird, and it set off my radar. I had been careful for so long that anything out of the ordinary like that caught my attention. And then Sam’s sister walked up carrying a big bouquet of roses. She said that some man handed them to her and after she thanked him he spoke to her in Spanish and said, Una rosa dalla Sicilia before he walked away. She laughed with Bill about it, she said she didn’t understand Spanish and her name wasn’t Celia but she would take the flowers anyway. I knew right then that he had found us but he had decided to play his game a new way.” I stopped to take a breath but Prince Chandler weighed in.
“That was Italian. It translates to A rose from Sicily. You are Rosalia Adami, aren’t you?” he reached for the whiskey. I guess so much for him holding our hair if he was ready to dive into the bottle with us.
“I am. How do you know that?” Steph and ‘Drea were watching our conversation like it was Wimbeldon.
“I worked for a government agency for a while. The connection of the Adami family and some other Italian families was high on our radar. Your story was legend. A star witness popped up out of the closet and started naming names and pointing fingers at Sinclair and a bunch of other people. You were just a kid, but your parents never hid their conversations from you. You knew way too much. Your uncle and Sinclair both had a lot to lose but you were so strong and certain. That made some big ripples. We chased leads on him forever while he chased you. I’m glad he’s dead as I am sure you are too.” Chandler tipped the bottle back again. “Finish your story, we can talk about what I know later.”
“Hold on a sec there, buddy. You know this story already?” ‘Drea’s eyes were bugging out as she stared at Chandler.
“I know it from the other side of the desk. I was just joining the agency when this happened, so I did a lot of the grunt work, reading documents, trying to piece together data. Not the whole story, just the highlights.” Chandler was taking the edge off of his part of the story. If he had read about my case enough to know and remember my whole name, he was leaving some very important details out. He and I stared at each other for a few seconds until Stephanie slapped her hand on the table.
“No no no. Wait a fucking minute. Let me tell you where my head is at right now. I named my daughter after my best fucking friend and that isn’t even your name?” Stephanie was bright eyed, and she was pissed.
“My name was Rosalia Clairee Adami. My parents called me Claire. Through the years I was Carrie, Carla, Clara, Cara and of course, Carlie. Sinclair found me and he was shot and killed. After all this was over the judge quietly granted me permission to legally use one of my aliases. I am Carlie Rose Jenkins. I’m not the little girl my parents named anymore. No more Italian anything, nothing to connect me to news stories, nothing to tie me to my family’s bad choices. I came back to the town I loved to be with the people I love. Just a girl from Texas who knows how to use a gun, can change her own oil and breathes and bleeds Whataburger. That’s me. Your little Princess Rosie still has part of my name.” I let out a little laugh.
Leave it to Steph to jump to the bare bones of the situation. Death, safe houses, a girl on the run, a husband who knew a lot more th
an he was admitting to. But, by God, that name better be there.
“Now, ladies,” I said, “I am about cried out and can’t handle much more of the bad. I need the good. Tell me about everything I have missed.”
Steph slid the box back in front of her and opened the lid.
“You got it, sister! I’ve even got pictures!” For the next eight hours, through another meal and into the night, I sat with my two best friends and learned about almost everything that made them who they had become.
5.
Sam ran his hands over his face, took a deep breath and then calmly put his hands back down flat on his desk. Monday morning, the garage had opened 15 minutes ago, he hadn’t even taken a sip of his first cup of coffee and Angie was standing in the door of his office. Again.
This time she was wearing a tight tank top, cut off short shorts that after a glance out the office window he could tell every man in the shop was staring at what was probably most of her skinny bare ass. She had on cowboy boots with fancy stitch work, and they were so shiny and new this must be their first time outside of a box. Her long nails were bright red to match that gunk she wore on her lips.
Sam got side tracked and stared at her lips. He had always hated to kiss her when she had that stuff on. It made her lips feel like sandpaper. Looking at her now, he could list quite a few things about her that he found completely unattractive. The main thing that was irritating him right now was her presence. Again.
“Angie, I’m not gonna fucking do this again, woman. Don’t start it.” he growled.
“Sammy, honey, I just want to talk some sense into you. I have tried to call you but you’re not picking up your phone, and that bitch up front won’t put my calls through to your office. I need to talk to you.” She ended that on a whine. Another big thing that made him irritated.
“My name is not Sammy. I am not your honey. You are the one with no fucking sense. Sandra has put up with your whiny ass shit calling a million damn times a day for way too long and if you talk about her like that again I will let her snap your fucking neck.” He stood up from the desk and walked towards Angie and the door, his only means of escape. She shut the door behind her and moved towards him, apparently oblivious to every word he had just said.
Face to face with her now, she was so close that Sam could see the gunk on each of her eyelashes. He had a fleeting thought about how much that stuff weighed, compared to regular eyelashes. When she blinked was it hard to get her eyes to open again?
“Sammy” She whispered as she moved her hand up towards his chest.
Sam stood still, glaring at her, wondering what in the world was going through that one-track mind of hers.
Her hand touched his chest and started to move up to his neck.
“Sammy” she whispered again and started to move in just a little closer.
~*~
Once again, I found myself sitting in Betty, mustering up the courage to walk in and come back to life. I spent almost twelve hours with Steph and ‘Drea, and during that time they caught me up on all things Duke. Sam’s life, his brothers and his sister, their father’s illness and death. The places they had gone, things they had done, people they had dated. People they had married. I saw pictures of Sam and Zeke at Jace’s graduation, smiling on either side of their little brother. I saw Sam holding Kari in his arms while she smiled at the camera with a cast on a leg that was pointed up to the sky, Sam in a tuxedo at Kari’s wedding, drinking beer at Duke’s during a cookout. There were pictures of him with his arm around different women, but not the same one in any of the different settings. I watched him age through the pictures, my heart hurting at all I had missed.
I was ready to see him. I wore clothes that I was comfortable in. Clothes that I knew he would love on me. I had on a gray racerback tank and ripped jeans tucked into my boots. I did my hair the way he liked for me to do it when we were going out on the bike, pulled into a loose braid at the side of my neck and trailing down over my chest. I wore the earrings he gave me for my 18th birthday, and the promise ring he gave me when I graduated. I was armed and ready to step back into his life and make him forget I had ever left him alone.
I parked across the street, in front of Benson’s diner and left Tuff in the passenger seat of Betty. I walked across the street to the garage. It looked the same as it had the last time I saw it. A large, red, metal building with a big white sign above the office door. On the sign was a Knight in shining armor, kneeling down with his sword in front of his knee, pointed to the ground. He knelt in front of two crossed flags. The American flag and the Texas flag. Above the Knight's head it said, “Duke’s Garage” and below the Knight’s feet, Est. 1971.
“Excuse me,” I said to the young guy in front of me. “I’m here to see Sam Duke. Can you help me find him?”
The young guy smiled and lifted his hand and pointed to my left. I looked over and saw a red door with the blinds closed on the small window. I moved my gaze just a little to the right of the door and could see that the blinds were not closed on that large window.
My breath caught. My Sam. There was my Sam. He was beautiful. And then I noticed the woman. Touching my Sam. They were staring into each other’s eyes, her face was dreamy and tilted up to his, their lips almost touching as she ran her hand up his chest. He looked so intense. He said something to her and she launched herself into his arms.
I felt it. I felt the cracks start and then I felt it when my heart fell out of my chest and shattered right there on the garage floor. I looked down to see the pieces but the tears in my eyes wouldn’t let me see anything but a blur. I missed my chance. My Sam has moved on and I am a fool for ever believing he wouldn’t live without me.
Blinking quickly, my hands wiping my face, I spun around and bolted back to Betty and Tuff.
~*~
“Okay, listen bitch. Enough is ….” His breath came out in a grunt because somehow Angie launched her skinny ass up, wrapped her arms around his neck and planted her mouth on his. Sam was knocked back a step and his legs slammed into his desk.
He put his hands on her hips to pull her body back as he twisted his mouth to get away from hers. In a flash she had her arms wrapped around his neck and her legs around his calves. After what seemed like forever, but was only just a few seconds, he was able to pry her body away from his and yank her mouth away from his face. He reached out and opened the office door.
“Goddammit, woman! Buy a fucking clue. I am fucking done with you. I was with you three times and that was six months ago! Do you hear me? I am done. All I wanted was a quick fuck now and again, but you couldn’t even do that right. Jesus. Get out of my fucking office, don’t ever touch me again, stay the fuck away from me, don’t call, don’t send a fucking pigeon, don’t even fucking breathe my name again. I tried to do this nice, but now I just gotta say, shut down the fucking crazy and get the fuck out of my life. Stay away from my shop, away from my club, just away. Get me?” By the time he was done he was roaring and had backed Angie through the door, out of the office and almost halfway through the first empty bay.
Angie did the smartest thing he had seen her do in weeks, she turned around and ran out of his shop. Sam reached up and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and then spit on the bay floor.
“Dammit!” Sam put his head back and roared.
“That girl takes the award for dumbest piece of ass you have ever had, and you get an award for being so stupid you hit it more than once. I’ll call the trophy shop and get them to start engraving. We can build a special shelf so you can show it off.” Sandra stood there with one hand on her hip, the other on the door frame at her office. Sam’s glare didn’t even phase her.
“Sam,” Rowdy called, “there was a woman here to see you.”
“No shit, dumbass!”
“No Sam. Another woman. That hot one from the poster in your office. She was driving a hot fucking mustang. Long red hair, killer body – sexy as hell voice. She saw what was going on in the office and just
took off. Ran out to the street, hopped in her ride and burned it out.”
Sam’s stared at Rowdy as his face got pale. Tink tossed a wrench into the toolbox and started walking toward Sam. Sandra dropped her arm from the door frame and rushed to Sam’s side.
“Son, it might not have been her.” Tink said. His brows drew together, and he reached up to pull on his beard. “It could have been someone who just looked a bit like her, ya know?”
“What color was the mustang, Rowdy?” Sam asked so low Rowdy could barely hear him. “What color was it?” he said in almost a yell.
“Wine colored. Dark wine with pearl. Real shiny. Lots of chrome. Hot fucking car, man. The one in the poster.” Rowdy didn’t know where this was going, but he could sense the vibes coming from Tink and Sandra. Sam’s pale face was beginning to scare him.
“She’s here, Tink. She’s fucking here.” Sam spun around and went into the office, slamming the door behind him. He went to the window inside and yanked on the cord to drop the blinds.
Tink and Sandra stared at each other for a second and then Tink pulled her into his arms.
“It can’t be her Tink. He won’t be able to take it. None of us will.” Sandra put her face to his chest and sucked in a deep breath. “I’m gonna call the boys and give them a heads up. The ride just got bumpy again.” Sandra pulled away and turned to the front office to see Zeke jogging across the street. A short haired version of Sam and he shared that same intense look. He stopped in front of Sandra and Tink.
