31 Kisses

by Sonya Jesus

  “Dad thought you’d be done by now.”

  The annoyance in his voice gets under my skin, so I try my best to show respect to the future Beneventi boss. “Neither of you gave me a deadline…and since when does my list have anything to do with your secret?”

  “He says there are people on your list who can leak information and put in question my legitimacy.”

  I don’t like the overlap. Not one fucking bit.

  “If you spent less time at Stone’s parties and more time taking them out. This wouldn’t be a problem.”

  I shake my head and stand up before I reach across the table and jab him in the throat. “I’m following instructions. Your father said, ‘careful removal.’ As in, utilize an inconspicuous, untraceable, and stealthy protocol. I can’t just pull up to a place and shoot someone’s brains out in plain sight. I have to study them in order to analyze the best strategy.”

  “Well, analyze them faster. Dad doesn’t have much longer. His liver is only thirty-percent functional.”

  I take a deep breath and look toward the ceiling. That’s where all this agitation is coming from. Breaker never did know how to handle his feelings. “Today was his blood work and liver dialysis at the clinic?”

  “Yeah,” he clips out curtly.

  “You talked to the doctors?” Getting him to share his feelings with me won’t work; he only ever did that with Stone. Ever since they’ve split, he’s more internalized than ever.

  “Obviously.”

  I uncross my hands and lean against the table, directly in front of him. “It’s worse?”

  His knee stops twitching and he looks straight into my eyes. Breaker would be beautiful if he wasn’t so rough. Just because he is going to lead a bunch of made men, doesn’t mean he couldn’t crack a smile every once in a while. “Did you expect it to get better, Kelsie?”

  I curl my fingers under the side of the table. “I didn’t expect it to get worse. The liver dialysis was supposed to help.”

  “It did, but not much.”

  Both of us put aside the mob for a few minutes to be regular people about to lose someone they love—someone who has watched over us, guided us, and loved us all our lives. “He’s only sixty-eight,” I say aloud. It won’t be long before I’ll be an orphan twice over. “Can’t I just kill someone to get him a liver?”

  “We have people who do that.” Breaker cracks a smile, but it quickly dissipates.

  I smash my lips together and cock my head to the side. Prostitution. Baby Farming. Sex Slaves. Now, organ harvesting? I mask the niggling emotion in my stomach with sarcasm. “What? The Ranch isn’t as lucrative as it used to be?”

  His smile widens at my humor, or maybe he caught a whiff of horror in my tone. “Adaptations, Kelsie. Cattle die all the time, we’re just being smart about it.”

  “Well, then why not a liver from your new endeavor?”

  “Great idea, if he’d survive the transplant.” He’s no longer sporting a happier pitch. “No doctor will do it. He has Stage 3 Lung Cancer and clogged arteries, along with an arrhythmia. If it’s not the liver, soon it will be the cancer or a massive heart attack.” He grinds his teeth together.

  I’d be pissed too. “I get it, Breaker. It’s hard to see him deteriorating in front of you. One day he’s coughing up a lung, the next he seems better. It’s not easy.” My mother’s death broke me and I barely remember it.

  He blinks rapidly and scoffs. “He’s living on borrowed time.” His defense system is up in full effect again. “He’s going to die soon.”

  “And you are okay?” Because I’m not. I know he’s so many things, but he’s family. “How are you thinking logistically and not emotionally right now?”

  “Emotions are for the ill-prepared,” he quotes his father. “We’ve known about this for a while now. He’s accepted it.”

  “Have you?”

  “You ask that as if I have a choice. What am I going to do? Force a gun to some doctor’s head and have him slice Dad open. Get him some new lungs, and a heart, and a liver all at once?”

  Is that an option?

  “Dad wants to go out this way. He wants a nice Christmas at home, with his kids, and a big family party for New Year’s. He wants to die in peace and with the people he loves by his side.” Abandoning all familial ties, he lowers his voice. “Both of those are on you.”

  “Is that order coming from you or your father?”

  “You have until the party. All thirty-one people need to be gone.”

  “That’s impossible. I don’t have any information on the last guy in witness protection. Jason West vanished after his dad killed mine.”

  Breaker clenches his jaw. “What is it with you and excuses? Get it done.”

  “I can get them all done, except Jason. I don’t even know if he’s alive. I tortured Kade and he gave me nothing.”

  “Then I suggest you torture some more people because if he is alive, then he knows where West hid the flash drive.”

  “What flash drive?”

  “The one that can take us all down. Look, I don’t know what’s on there, but my dad is insisting on it being found. He says he can’t die in peace without knowing it’ll be destroyed.”

  “Fine. I’ll look, but I don’t even know where to start. He was small when he entered the program.” I start listing all the reasons why #31 is the hardest. “He might not even be in the country anymore. I might have to take a flight…I need time, Breaker, or help, whichever one you feel like offering.”

  He contemplates this for a second and tugs at his collar. “There’s some people on the payroll I can ask, but West knew how to get around the system, so I don’t know what I can do.”

  “Any lead would help.”

  He nods and steps toward the door. Before exiting, he says, “Actually, I remember something. He’s our age and he liked football. My dad said he was pretty good at it. That’s actually how your dad found them. He looks like his dad or something.”

  “That’s something, I guess.”

  “I’ll keep you posted. Now go do your job.”

  He leaves me alone with his orders and so many questions. I don’t have time to think about them. Today is already Wednesday. If I hurry, I can still come up with a plan to eliminate twenty-eight and make it to Stone’s party at Danvers.

  I round the table and reach into the bottom drawer. Taped to the back is the original list. I cut off twenty-seven’s name and put it in the ashtray, then take the lighter, light the small piece of paper on fire, and let the flames die out. I do this every time, in case someone finds the list. I may not have the Beneventi name, but I was officially adopted and on the radar. Cops are easily bought, not stupid.

  Number twenty-eight is Rebecca Stanton: age forty-two, last known address Willard Boulevard.

  Another person I have never heard of. I secure the remaining list back in place and trudge over to the library to look her up. I never to use the same IP address, so there are no commonalities. I google her name and find her, but I’m confused. She’s just a regular person who owns a pet shop on a corner of a busy neighborhood.

  I click on a picture of her and discover she and her husband ran a shelter for abandoned animals awhile back.

  After another two hours, I come up with most of the information I need. She’s on a dating website, which leads me to search for her husband’s obituary. She has no children, and is originally from Arizona. She owns four dogs that she rescued from a shelter, works until six, and then goes to the gym down the street on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays for a yoga class. She lives within a three-block radius of her favorite places, and after studying some of her public posts and check-ins, I’m willing to bet she walks to work. Plus, she doesn’t own a car.

  I take the train to her pet shop to scope out the area. It’s almost six and closing time for her. I find a coffee shop and get myself a large latte before taking a seat at the bus stop near her shop. I plop my headphones in and pretend to listen to music.


  A few days ago, it was relatively nice out; today, I think I’m going to freeze my tits off if I stay out here too long. I balance the cup between my legs, so I can pull out a set of gloves and then slide them on. Slightly covering my face with the coffee cup, I use the steam to warm my nose. It doesn’t take long for me to realize there are way too many people at this time of day to even be seen around here.

  A few frigid moments later, a fit lady with blonde hair emerges from the pet shop and checks the street. Seeing no potential customers, she steps back inside and closes the door, locking it from the inside, and flips over a sign.

  That’s Rebecca Stanton.

  I quickly get to my feet and nonchalantly blend in with the crowd. As I wait by the pedestrian crosswalk for the light to turn green, she comes up the street with a dead-end sign on it. Not many people go down that street, but it isn’t completely abandoned. She waits on the opposite end for the same light. We pass each other on the crosswalk; nearly brushing each other’s shoulders as the mass of people push and sprint forward.

  I continue walking toward the end of the block, noting things like cars, dumpsters windows, and anything out of the ordinary. There’s a small Chinese restaurant on the second floor of the last building. Four bikes with baskets are locked to a rail. Busy restaurant.

  That narrows my time window even more. Minimal exposure. The fewer people who can place me at the scene, the better. Easy clean up if things go sour.

  I chug some of my cold coffee and after, drop it in the trash outside the restaurant. Once I hike my way up the flight of stairs and enter the second-floor restaurant, I stroll to the front of the takeout counter and order a couple of egg rolls. While they fry them, I survey the space.

  It’s ample and divided into two halves: the take-a-way side, where I am, and the restaurant side, which is divided by two wide double doors. I take a gander inside and immediately notice that most of the windows, facing the part of the street that’s a dead end, are covered. The owners cleverly created a fake mural over the windows.

  “Lady!” The man with the heavy accent calls to me, holding up a white paper bag; the grease already seeping through it and turning it translucent. “Two egg roll.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Have good night.”

  “You too,” I smile before removing one from the bag and taking a bite.

  Satisfied, the guy answers the phone and forgets all about me.

  Once I get to the sidewalk, I note the windows on the second and third floors of the alley; they look mostly like offices. There are letters written all over the glass. The ones on the side of the Chinese restaurant appear to be residential, which can actually be a good thing for me. I can blend in— pretend like I live here.

  On my way up the street, I note the side door on the side of the pet shop. This must be where she exited from. It looks like a shared door and entry for the apartments on the upper levels. That might come in handy.

  I round the corner and stop in front of the shop to admire the window view and scope out the inside. She has a couple of puppies right in the front and a red sign hanging above them saying, “Going out of Business Sale.”

  “Cute, aren’t they?” A woman’s voice startles me.

  The puppies, I remind myself as I turn around to face the direction of the noise. “Adorable,” I answer as I drop the half-eaten roll in my bag and shake the crumbs off my gloves.

  “They are,” Rebecca says while staring at me.

  I shy my face away and point to the puppies for a distraction. “They make you just want to hug them, don’t they?”

  She looks at them with a somber look. “If you give me a minute, I can open the door and you can check them out if you like.”

  “Oh, that’s alright,” I say, looking for the closed sign. “I didn’t know you owned this place. I thought you closed for the night.”

  “I am usually, but sales have been down lately and I can’t afford to keep the shop open much longer. As soon as I sell the rest of the babies, I’m closing up and moving to Arizona with my sister.”

  “Oh,” I say softly, knowing she will never make it to Arizona. “Much warmer there, huh?”

  “Much,” she agrees and holds her finger up in the air. “One minute. I’ll open the door for you.”

  Disappearing would be sketchy, so I glance at the puppies. They’re both looking up at me. They resemble little, smiling foxes wrapped in a big ball of fluff. One is mostly golden like a fox and the other is black. They are kind of cute for four-legged things.

  The door opens, distracting me from the fur babies. “Come on in out the cold, hun.”

  New Yorkers are never this nice. I smile and walk in, sliding the bag of egg rolls into my coat pocket.

  “These are Shiba Inus,” she says as she lowers her upper body into the cage and grabs one. It’s the burnt gold one. She places it on my chest. “Go ahead, hold her.”

  I wrap my arms around it, and it immediately starts licking my fingers and nipping at my chin, bringing me back to my childhood. I always loved dogs. My mom did too. When she died I took care of them, or more like they took care of me. They died though.

  “She’s a girl.” Rebecca reaches for the puppy’s head and pets it, getting its attention. “Isn’t that right, little one?”

  I smile at her talking to the dogs. I used to do that too. I rub the soft fur and play with the animal while Rebecca picks up the darker one. “Is he a boy?”

  “No, they’re both girls. That’s why they’re left behind. No one wants to pay to get them spayed.” The dog finds my ear and locks down on it. “She’s ten weeks. She has her shots and is ready for a happy home.”

  “They look expensive,” I say between kisses. First she bites me then she kisses me.

  “They usually are, but I can sell her for half.”

  “How much is half?”

  “Two thousand dollars.”

  I nod and smile. That’s still expensive.

  “Fifteen-hundred?”

  “Are these the last two you have and then you’re done?”

  She nods her head. “Yes. Hopefully by Christmas Day I’ll be with my family.”

  “Family?”

  “Well, my sister’s family. Nothing in New York to keep me here.” She puts the puppy back down in the pen and puts both her hands on her hips. “How about you, any big plans for Christmas?”

  “Spending it with the family.”

  “Good. Being alone on holidays is a terrible thing. Trust me. I’ve spent most of mine alone.”

  “That doesn’t sound pleasant.” I pet the furball one last time and hand her back to my target. “Why not spend it with friends?”

  She takes the puppy and places her with the other. Then heads to the opposite side of the store, near the back. She props the door open with a doorstop and raises her voice so I can hear her from the background. “Not many friends either. Well, at least not the kind of friends who invite you over for Christmas.”

  “Yeah, New Yorkers aren’t the friendliest bunch.”

  “They can be.” She pops her head in from the backroom. “I had one once, but she died. You kind of look like her actually. Gorgeous, tall, dark hair, and your eyes—even your brows are the same.”

  “Oh?” I chuckle. “I must have one of those faces.”

  “Probably.” She ducks away again. “It’s been so long, I forget what she looks like, you know? You just give me that impression.”

  “What impression?”

  “I’m not quite sure how to explain it. There’s just an air of kindness around you, sweetheart. Chiara was like that until she got married.”

  I swallow the gasp and stare at the puppies through a thin, blurry layer of tears pooling in my eyes. Chiara was my mother, and nothing kind lives inside me.

  “Then we lost touch, except for the occasional phone call.”

  “I’m sorry for your loss.” And mine.

  “Yeah, me too. She was a good person…Would you believe I open
ed this shop twelve years ago, and the only people who ever stop by are the people from the top floor to complain about the puppies? They call me the dog lady. I don’t even think they know my name.”

  I sniffle and pat the inner corners of my eyes. With the cuffs of my sweater, I soak up the tears and blink rapidly before more form. No point in reminiscing about the past when my future’s at stake. I step forward to scan the back room. Rebecca’s measuring out some kibble into two pans and putting it in the cages, but I can’t see much else from this angle.

  “Young ones these days.” She clucks her tongue and looks up at me. “No respect. I guess that happens when you party until the a.m. hours every day and sleep until two the next day.”

  People divulge entirely too much information to people they barely know.

  “Would you mind bringing me the puppies, hun?”

  I smile. “Sure.” Nice sales tactic. She wants me to bond with them. I mosey back to the puppy pen and pick up the darker one. She’s more aggressive and nips at the tips of my fingers before sniffing my jacket for the source of the aroma.

  “The egg roll’s mine,” I whisper to it. She wags her tail against my arm, trying to escape my hold and take a chunk of my chin. “I think she’s hungry,” I announce as I enter the backroom and canvas the space. It’s much larger than I expected.

  Rebecca spreads a puppy pad in the cage. Then she squats down to the bottom one, removes the soiled pad from the inside and places it in the trash bin beside her. Jumping to her feet, she pulls the trash bag out of the can and fills the air with the stench of urine.

  “Want me to put her inside?”

  “Yes, please.” She ties a knot at the top and rambles toward the back door. “Sorry, I’m in a rush. I have to get over to the gym for yoga, the girls are throwing me a going-away party.”

  “No worries.” I place the dog in the cage.

  She opens the door; it leads right to the outside dead-end street. I was wrong before. I thought the entrance to the upstairs apartments was through that door.

  “Mind getting the other one while I toss this?”