by Lisa Libby
“Yesterday, I met with both the FBI and the head of the Irish Mob.”
Paul rips the headphones off his head and shuts off the game.
“Shh, don’t say another word.”
He nervously logs into his computer and turns on the radio, loud. He rolls his computer chair over to me.
I lean in closer so he can hear me over the music. “Why the loud music?”
“You can never be too careful. They can hear us.”
“Who exactly?!”
He gets up from his chair and paces from the kitchen to the living room, removing boxes from his windowsill, his makeshift curtains, and peeking outside. Taking a seat back in his chair, he sighs. “Tell me everything.”
“A private investigator hired by Atlantic is following me. The FBI interviewed me asking about my job at Atlantic, my relationship with my boss Susan, and Johnny. Something was off about the FBI agent. It gets worse. Johnny works for the Irish Mob; he told me, then he brought me to visit Claire Spillane.”
Paul stared at me confused. “Who’s that?”
“Oh, right, she’s the Mob boss. Paul, she threatened to harm me, my family and friends if I don’t go to trial to defend Susan.”
“Did anyone mention the Mafia?”
“No.”
“Good. Be cautious around Johnny, but keep him around for now, so the Irish know you’re cooperating with the investigation and trial. Don’t say nothing to the FBI, and if they request to see you again, make sure Johnny is aware. It’s important you hire a private investigator, a second set of eyes. I’m turning off the music, but no more talk about this; you can never be too cautious.”
“Okay. How much for the phone and computer?”
“$15,000 for everything and I can have it to you by the end of the week.”
“Come on, that’s a lot of cash to come up with. Can you give me a break?”
“$12,000, that’s as low as I can go.”
“I’ll drop off the cash tonight. I have another favor.” I hand him a paper with my biological father’s name on it. “I need to find this person and any information you have on him and please don’t ask me why.”
He smirks. “Why?”
I pull out a bag of weed for Paul. A bonus for helping me out.
“Just what I need,” he smiles.
I get up to leave. “I don’t mean to rush, but I need to go find money to borrow – I’ll be back tonight,” I lie, an excuse to leave.
Paul’s behavior gets stranger with every visit. He’s always been socially awkward and doesn’t talk unless it’s about money, technology, or government conspiracy theories, but lately he has become increasingly paranoid.
My next stop is hiring a private investigator. I hop back on the redline. Johnny has texted a few times. He wants to have drinks tonight if I’m interested. I respond with a maybe. I can’t tell if he genuinely likes me or if he’s just hanging around because he was ordered to by the Mob.
I reach my second destination, a private investigator’s office in Boston’s Beacon Hill, one of the more beautiful neighborhoods in Boston and richest. The snaking alleys are lined with brick homes with matching brick sidewalks, and even some of the streets still have the original cobblestone. Some of the roads were a part of the underground railroad, which has been preserved and organized as the Black Heritage Trail.
I’d made an appointment with a small private investigator; I presume he’s Jewish with a company name like Alterman Investigations. I’m early for my appointment so the receptionist asks that I have a seat.
“Mr. Alterman will be back from lunch shortly.”
The receptionist is an elderly lady with a permanent scowl, likely doesn’t take shit from anybody. Our phone conversation the other day was more pleasant, I pictured her very differently.
A man enters the office—I assume this is Mr. Alterman—holding his take-out lunch in hand.
“You must be Ava, my apologies for keeping you waiting.” He motions me to follow him into his office.
I sit in one of the two comfy chairs in front of his desk. His office is filled with oversized dark furniture, with matching built-in bookshelves. It’s a nice office, which translates to he charges a lot for his services.
“How can I help?” he says, opening his lunch container. Is he going to eat his lunch while we talk? It’s distracting, since I haven’t eaten anything today.
“I have someone following me, and I need to know why and who they are.”
“Why do you think they’re following you?” He stuffs a handful of french fries in his mouth.
“I worked for Atlantic Street Financial as an accountant. They’re under investigation by the FBI, for allegedly laundering money.”
He looks interested with this new information. He closes his lunch container and cleans his greasy hands. “Go on,” he says with a pen and pad in front of him.
“I was approached by a private investigator, hired by Atlantic. I’m pretty sure he’s been following me.”
“Did he give his business card?”
“No, sorry. I just told him to fuck off and to stop following me.”
Mr. Alterman doesn’t look amused. “Can you tell me more about Atlantic’s troubles? I haven’t seen anything in the news.”
“That’s the strange part. I was even interviewed by an FBI agent, Connor McClean.”
I stop myself, leaving out the details about the mob shit.
“I’m scared, and I need someone looking out for my best interests.”
He looks through me, staring, not immediately answering my question. I look back to see if there is someone behind me.
“I think I can help you. My secretary will write up an agreement and call you when it’s ready.”
“Okay, sounds good.” I get up to walk out.
“Ava, wait. Are you positive there is nothing else concerning you?”
“Nope,” I lie and exit his office.
The last errand on my list is to visit my roommate’s ex-boyfriend, Jose Ramirez. He can get me a new identity in case things don’t go as planned. My hope is Johnny will somehow save me from the Mob cutting my fucking head off and dumping me in the river.
I’m late to meet Jose. He isn’t happy to see me; I can tell by his body language.
We meet at his restaurant, Pollo Centro. The place looks like a shithole – I can’t believe people eat here. Hopefully it’s just a front to launder money. Last I knew, Jose was a small-time drug dealer, but from what I can see he could be running a bigger operation.
“Hey mama, how’s it goin’? You lookin’ good…” he says. We hug, but he holds on longer than appropriate.
“I’m sorry for being late, I got lost.”
“No problem.”
He grabs two beers from behind the counter.
“Sit, sit, make yourself at home.”
I take a seat in the white bamboo chair.
He drinks the beer, looking at me past the bottle. I forgot how intimidating he can be.
“How’s Slutmantha.”
“You mean Samantha; she’s fine.”
He’s such an asshole, and he wonders why they broke up. I hate that I need to ask him for a favor, but he’s the only person I know who can get me a new identity.
“I’m here for a favor. I need a new identity, preferably a US passport.”
He sucks his teeth like he has food stuck between them.
“I got you, but you need a lot of dinero.”
“How much?”
“First, you must tell me why a good girl like you needs this.”
“I can’t tell you.”
“Wow, like that huh.”
He’s looking at me like he wants more than money. It’s got to be the reason he’s stalling.
“I’m sensing you want a favor in retur
n.”
“Bingo,” he laughs.
“I need you to pick up a package in the Dominican and bring it to me,” he explains.
“Jose, I can’t leave the country, not now.”
I don’t want him to know any details about the FBI and the Mob.
“My employer is under investigation, and I’ll need to go to court soon.”
“Tell ‘em you’re going on vacation for a few days to relieve some stress.”
“If I agree, what’s the package?”
“It’s better you don’t know.”
“No, I’m not doing that, it’s crazy. Please let me pay you and we’ll be even.”
“Okay, fine, $10,000. It will be ready in two days.”
“Thank you, thank you.”
I finish my beer, give him a hug goodbye. There’s sense of unfinished business, and I’m sure I’ve made a mistake by saying no.
When I get home, Mac is sitting on my steps waiting for me. I notice a black SUV parked a few feet from my house. I’m being watched again.
“Thanks for meeting me at my house. Come in.”
“You look exhausted, Ava.”
“I am exhausted, and I haven’t eaten all day. I’m gonna heat up some leftover Chinese food, you want some?”
“No, I’m good, but how about a drink?”
“Sure, I’ll get you your favorite,” I say.
I shovel food down while Mac watches.
“Here’s the loan.” He hands me a thick envelope.
“Thank you. I’ll pay you back when I can.”
Now that I have the money, I want him to leave, but I can’t help feel he’s hanging around for something more.
My phone beeps; it’s a text from Johnny – he’s outside. So that’s the black SUV, that’s him. The door buzzer goes off.
Is that him? What the fuck?
I peek through the door; it’s Johnny all right.
“Johnny, I wasn’t expecting you.”
He smiles that cheesy smile of his. Looks like he’s up to no good.
He walks in like he owns the place and walks right up to Mac.
“Hey,” he says to Mac.
They shake hands.
This is all entertaining, but I need to make sure they don’t start fighting. Johnny can be a real asshole and Mac is hardheaded.
“I wasn’t expecting you. You want a beer or food?” I ask.
“Ya, sure.” He takes a seat next to Mac in the dining room.
From the kitchen I can’t hear what they are talking about, but there’s no yelling so they must be playing nice. I’m more worried about Johnny than Mac. Johnny is unpredictable and Mac, well he’s calm, with better manners.
Just as I bring Johnny a plate and a beer, Mac gets up from the table and grabs his coat.
“I got to get home for dinner – my wife was cooking when I left.”
I didn’t know they were married. He says that intentionally because he knows it hurts me. We were supposed to get married at one point.
He shakes Johnny’s hand and says goodnight. I follow him out the door and to his car.
“Thanks again for the loan, I’ll pay you back as soon as possible,” I promise.
“My wife doesn’t know I lent you the money, so please make sure you keep that promise.”
“Is everything okay with you? You seem upset. I’m sorry, I didn’t expect Johnny to come over.”
He looks down at the ground.
“I just wish I never cheated on you, and seeing another man interested in you makes me jealous. I know it sounds like bullshit, but I think of what we could have been.”
I’ve been waiting for this day since he broke it off with me. Waiting for him to admit he was wrong and admit his regret.
“We can’t change the past. I honestly don’t see us ever getting back to the place we once were.”
His expression changes from poor me to arrogant asshole. He walks towards me and, pushing the loose hair behind my ear, goes in for a kiss.
“No, Mac. Not here.”
I turn my head, looking in the direction of my kitchen window. Johnny is standing in the window eating from his plate. He doesn’t look happy.
“Okay, I get it. Johnny is my replacement.”
He gets in his car and drives off before I can respond.
I go back into the house. I’m pissed off, the nerve of this cocksucker to just show up at my house. He’s so disrespectful.
“Who the hell do you think you are, showing up here unannounced?”
“I texted.”
“Yeah, then knocked on the fucking door. Jesus Christ! Humor me, why are you always around?”
I walk away from Johnny to the refrigerator to grab another beer.
“What was ya ex doing ovah here?”
“None of your damn business. What the hell are you doing here while Casey is home alone? You should be worrying about your own relationship.”
Johnny stays quiet and continues to eat in silence. The longer he stays silent the more aggravated I get.
He takes his last bite of food.
“Ava, you know who I work for, don’t make me say it.”
“I want the fucking truth.”
“They were gonna have someone else keep an eye on you, but I offered. I like you a lot. I don’t want nothin’ to happen to ya. I feel guilty because I sort of brought you into this situation. There’s more I want to tell ya, but my hands are tied.”
He looks sincere and appears to be telling me the truth. I guess I just needed to hear him admit that he’s following me. I would like to know more, but I won’t push it. I wonder if he knows why Mac was here, and if he followed me to visit Jose. I hope not because I don’t want him to know what I’m planning. Shit, I forgot about Paul; I promised to deliver the cash to him tonight.
“I don’t want to argue, I understand the situation, I’m just stressed.”
“I know.”
I send Paul a text to tell him I can’t make it right now. He says if I can’t make it tonight to come first thing in the morning. He tells me the stuff isn’t ready, so it buys me some time. The money’s still on the table. I take the opportunity to put the cash in my safe while Johnny is using the bathroom.
“Can I ask you a personal question?”
He nods yes.
“What do you tell Casey when you don’t come home, like the other night?”
“She’s used to it, comes with tha job.”
Casey must know he cheats and works for the Mob. Still, it doesn’t make it right for us to have slept together, but if I’m being honest with myself, I don’t care that it’s wrong.
We continue drinking through the night. The more drinks we have, the more the sexual tension builds.
I climb on top of him, straddling him and pull off my shirt. In this moment I feel in control and in charge. The first night we slept together I don’t remember all of it because I was drunk, but as time passed, I start to remember how we ended up in bed. He pushed himself on top of me while we were sitting on the couch. We fucked right there while my roommate was in her bedroom down the hall. After that, he carried me to the bedroom, and we fucked again. This second time he was rougher. I remember waking up the next morning with a sore mouth because of him biting me, and my hip bones felt bruised.
This time he’s letting me be in control. I ride him slow and gentle in the beginning and move faster when I feel his excitement. I find it more thrilling because it’s teasing him. I do like it rough; hair pulling and biting, but it’s better to build to the rough stuff. I kiss him from his mouth to his neck, as my hands play with his nipples and chest. He’s getting excited and moving his hand up my back, grabbing my ass, pushing himself deeper inside. In this moment, I know I’ve caught feelings. I want him – maybe because he’s already tak
en, or maybe because he’s a bad boy. There’s no denying I’m attracted to him. He can never know because that would give him power. He already has too much. I must remember this could all be a distraction from my reality, the dangerousness of dealing with the Mob. They could kill me with a snap of their fingers, but could Johnny kill me? I believe yes, yes, he could, because he knows it would be me or him.
AVA
CHAPTER 6
King Paul
I wake up, open one eye to peek at Johnny sleeping, but he’s gone. I’m relieved I’m alone. I lay staring at the ceiling reminiscing about my mother. I miss her so much. On my nightstand is a coffee, a breakfast sandwich, bottle of water, and two Tylenol. The Tylenol is a nice touch. The taste of weed and cigarettes are still fresh on my breath. I take a sip of the coffee. There’s whiskey in the coffee – an Irish Coffee. I wash down the Tylenol, eat breakfast in bed and scroll through my phone messages. Several text messages are from Paul. One reads: Both are ready, come over when you wake up.
That’s fast; he told me it would take a week.
I respond: See you in an hour.
On the way to Paul’s, I smile when I think about Johnny. I hate that I’m even thinking about him. I’m also thinking about Mac and feel conflicted. I thought I would want Mac back in my life but now it doesn’t seem so appealing. I knew borrowing the money from Mac would have strings attached. They’re both a distraction.
I purposely take a different route to Paul’s apartment just in case I’m being followed. It’s easier to take the train, but too many people to watch. The bus late morning will be easier. If I sit at the back of the bus, I can see all the passengers. The bus windows let me watch for cars that could be following me. The bus passengers consist of a handful of seniors, a few mothers or nannies with children, and some lone passengers. I watch everyone, no matter their age or look of innocence. I don’t want to bring unnecessary people into Paul’s world. I’m sure he has enough to worry about.
I get a text from an unknown phone number with a country code in front. It reads: Smash your phone, you’ve been hacked.
This must be Paul. Shit. I get off the bus a few bus stops away from Paul’s. I look around to double check no one is following me. I find a large rock, duck into an alley, and smash my phone until it’s dust. My blood is boiling because I know who the fucker was that put a tracker in my phone. Johnny!!
