by Suzanne Hart
They were also notorious blabbermouths. It takes one to know one. I knew; if I wanted to learn anything, I’d have to start there. I’d also have to get some length on a leash from Bernardi’s house. I’d realized I couldn’t get any information from within the house, that was never going to happen. The longer I stayed there, the more I feared I’d be pushed down the stairs or have an accidental overdose at the hands of the Bernardi henchmen.
“So, lemme get this straight. You, Mikey Leone, come in here, start a fight at the door of my club with a pack of Bernardi’s, then want to drill me about the Bernardi’s finances? What are you, fucking high?”
My entrance hadn’t been great. The guy at the door recognized one of the Bernardi men, someone he had a personal grievance with from years ago. Then I got nervous, so did some more coke, then I was just a chatterbox, pushing to see the manager and owner, Pete. Black Pete they called him. Not because he was black, but because he looked like a pirate.
Pete was smiling to himself, shaking his head slowly. His gold teeth were sparkling under his bush of a thick wiry beard, which covered his whole face and ran down to his proud belly. He cracked his tattooed knuckles loudly, then sat back in his chair behind his desk.
“Look kid, I have a respect for your father. I should call him right now. I should tell him who you’re hanging out with. But… you’ve got balls, I’ll give you that much. You’re coked up to find ‘em, but they’re there somewhere. You are your father’s son alright.”
I sat up in my chair a little higher, my chest swelling to match the size of my head. Black Pete laughed out loud. He was humoring me, and I was buying it. He produced a bottle from under his desk and two short glasses, half-filling them both and sliding one over to me.
“Anything I can say that might help your father get one over the Bernardis, I’ll make an exception. He’ll be sending reinforcements down here, don’t you know? We just beat two of his men bloody… What do you want to know?” he asked with a crooked, gold-lined grin.
I made some progress. It was more than I’d get by asking Bernardi himself. Decades before, when Natalia was only a baby, Bernardi had indeed moved most of the family fortune offshore. He’d set up a shadow company, which Pete didn’t know the name of, which had a board of directors, who were also the trustees of the same company. The original board included Bernardi himself, but this was later changed once the criminal element of his business activities were known. The new trustees were named, with Bernardi having none of the family’s criminal income traceable to him personally.
“Who were the trustees?” I asked, expecting the simplest of answers, ideally a list. Pete had scowled at me, then laughed again.
“You really are something, aren’t you? The whole point of trustees in criminal, offshore accounts,” he continued patiently, “is that they remain anonymous. The whole idea is that they are never known. It’s legally confidential and it’s why these guys use the offshore trust system in the first place.” He looked at me quizzically, doubting I could be as stupid as I was sounding.
“Surely you have your own version of the same thing, your sister and her company? Through your own family?” His head was shaking again, like he was explaining day and night to a child. “Mikey, it’s common knowledge your own family has a stake in Mia Bella, that little hobby your sister has? The six billion dollar company?”
I was looking as stupid as I felt. Finances were never my strong point and I felt myself slipping into a sense of helplessness. Why would Claridge ask me to get such unobtainable information from a rival family? Surely it would be easier, though just as difficult, to find out the same about my own family’s finances, my sister’s company especially.
I wanted to ask Pete about Claridge, but felt I had outstayed my welcome, apart from making a total ass of myself. I left with more questions than I came with, but at least I had something to offer Claridge in the way of information.
Being back in Miami, I knew I had to keep a low profile, word was, according to Pete, that the Leones had figured I was on a bender in L.A., with a sighting reported from Slade to my father. I wondered how he explained himself to be in L.A. so soon after the failed hit on Nathan Bernardi, but Slade seemed to have his own freedoms. More than my own within my own family.
I had left the club through the back, and a car was waiting. The Bernardis were faultless with their timing and they seemed to have more cars than people. As soon as I stepped in back and reached for something cold to put in my hand, I realized I was in the wrong car.
“Michael, I was almost getting worried. Nobody seems to want to work for their money anymore, they all expect the money to work for them.”
It was a minor shock, but I wanted to see him anyway. Creepy Claridge was doing me a favor, for once; by abducting me again.
I just hope this isn’t another all-nighter.
He seemed eager to hear something. He was almost agitated, practically fidgeting in his seat as we pulled away from the club. “Speak!” he ordered me, impatiently.
I helped myself to a drink from the limo’s fridge, then, sitting back I began to relay a very drawn out, long-winded and slightly embellished version of the story Black Pete had just told me.
I thought I had done well, believing my own bullshit, as usual. Claridge wasn’t impressed and he let me know about it.
“Michael, Michael. That is common knowledge, and any thug off the street could tell me that. I asked you to get me names, addresses and dates of birth. Actual information, not guttersnipe gossip!” He tittered to himself, calming himself, then tut-tutted me a bit more. He was silent for a while, then he leaned closer. He smelled like citrus and dust. An unusual and inviting combination.
“I think we can add a list of Leone trustees, Michael. You are playing me for a fool and I don’t appreciate it. You will get me the information I want within two weeks or no trust fund, nothing for you.”
I felt my mouth moving, about to start in protest, but he put a cold, gray finger to my lips. It was dry, icy and had the same, sweet, dusty citrus smell about it as the rest of him.
“You would do well to try harder. Less drinking and more thinking, eh?”
The car drove for a time, then it stopped suddenly at the gates of the Bernardi residence. The door opened, as if on its own. Claridge looked away.
“Two weeks! Or I’ll see to it you have nothing, ever!”
Thirty-Five
Natalia
I spent another day or two telling myself that thirteen pregnancy tests were wrong. I didn’t need to go to the doctor. And I wasn’t pregnant with Mikey Leone’s baby. I couldn’t be. It wasn’t like he hadn’t stuffed me full of his Leone seed until it was literally running out of me. It was that I just couldn’t be pregnant to him. It just wasn’t practical.
I had stretched the boundaries of reality far enough, by seeing him; setting up a drug deal and giving him money. I had broken every family code, every genetic code of honor by helping him get out of Miami after he failed to assassinate my own brother. It was fairly well implied, though not directly to my father, that we were… intimate.
But pregnant? Are you fucking kidding me?
I knew how babies were made, and it hadn’t been that long between drinks. Felix had come along unexpectedly as well. I loved Felix, with all my heart and would have given my life for his, but I couldn’t face having to go through what I went through to have him all over again. It was too much to even contemplate.
Claridge was on my case, and my father was ignoring me and my pleas for him to not use Mikey as a weapon. Pippa and Felix were starting to make noises about wanting to come home. I began to secretly long for the seemingly dull, boring life I had led up until recently. I couldn’t even return to the Bernardi house. I was being told my rooms were being fumigated and I’d best stay away a bit longer. Papa was always in a meeting, or traveling to the islands on business. It felt like they’d swapped me for Mikey and were keeping him on a tight leash.
Nicholas had
told me a few things, but not much. He had more to say about the Leone family than his own, than our family. Word on the street was that Don Leone was getting sicker, giving more and more control to his lawyers, with the grunt work being handled by a man called Slade, an ex-military psycho whose motto was to shoot first and ask questions later.
The fallout from the assassination attempt never happened. Nathan was furious, baying for Leone blood. Papa was adamant that nothing be done just yet. Nicholas did tell me that Papa was concerned about the family’s taxes and he was spending more and more time with accountants and flying to the islands to try and work it out. Mikey had become his new lap-dog, sniffing and drinking his way through whatever was put in front of him. I had no idea why either Mikey or my father would be doing that.
The houses we had on the islands were something started by my father when we were children. I didn’t even know that they were finished. He had his own island off the coast, a secret location as he used to refer to it; with the plan being it would be a bunker for the whole family if the Russians ever invaded or if world war three broke out. I’d never been, but he had spoken about it with a great passion when we were younger.
“Well, can I at least get you to tell Mikey to call me when you see him?” I had pleaded with my brother, Nick.
He exhaled loudly, I’d been calling a lot, trying to catch my father but really wanting to; desperately needing to speak with Mikey, who had stopped answering his cell or replying to my texts.
“I dunno, sis. It’s hell busy here right now. Papa and your boyfriend seem to be spending all their time flying between that damned island and who knows where. You might recall that we have a series of businesses to run here? I’ve been lumped with doing everything while Nathan cries about being shot at, and well, you never really did do much, did you!?”
I was silent, feeling the stab of hurt right where it had been directed.
“Sorry sis. That came out wrong. I’m just under the pump. I’ll text you the direct line for the island, it’s the best I can do right now.” He hung up, but later he did text another number.
I had to get in touch with Mikey. I had to tell him that I was carrying his baby. I had resolved to go ahead with the pregnancy. I’d come this far without being shot myself, so why not? I still had the dream of Mikey as dad, and with me as mom. It was happening, whether he liked it or not.
I spent a fretful day, roaming the house aimlessly. I agonized over Mikey, Felix, and myself, to the point of exhaustion. I hadn’t eaten since I couldn’t remember when. Feeling weak, I sank back onto the couch after taking the phone off the hook, hoping if I ignored it everything might go away on its own.
The sound of tapping at the front door woke me. I half-opened my eyes, then groaned, trying to throw myself back into the dream I was having; the first pleasant experience in ages. Even that was being interrupted.
The tapping wasn’t aggressive, but it was insistent. I ignored it until I heard my name being called. “Natalia! Natalia, I know you’re home, please let me in.”
It was my mother.
Shit!
Leaping from the couch in a single movement, I rushed to the shades and peeked out, realizing I couldn’t see past the alcove of the front entrance. Her tapping and calling continued patiently. I had to check to see if I was still dreaming, maybe the Mikey dream I was having had changed into a nightmare.
No, it was real alright. I took a few seconds to compose myself after reaching the front door. I could see through the spy hole she was alone, a car with a driver waiting on the street. I took a deep breath and swung the door open.
We stood for a moment, just staring at each other. My mother’s eyes were calm and clear. She didn’t look upset or angry, or surprised to see me. I was feeling all of those things for the pair of us. I wanted to exclaim at her unannounced arrival, demand she tell me how she knew where I was, and dare her to justify her invasion of my most intimate privacy.
Instead, I fell into her opened arms, rested my head on her noticeably weak chest and began to wail like a schoolgirl.
I apologized as soon as I could, letting her help me inside. I was shocked at how floppy I had become. My legs trembled under me and it was an effort to just get inside. I near-collapsed into a huge soft chair as my mother went to get a glass of water for me, she hadn’t said a word so far.
I felt panic rising as she returned, taking a glass of water into my trembling hands. I sipped and felt no different. I gulped and felt a little better, physically speaking.
“I don’t expect you thought you’d ever see me here,” she commented in a friendly, light way; looking about the place with approval. It was clean, classy and elegantly domesticated.
I was still in shock, unable to even formulate a single word to say to her. She seemed so calm and obliged me with starting.
“I saw you at the hospital a while back. I made some inquiries of my own… Ms. Diamond, really darling!” She smiled, shaking her head slightly. I felt myself welling up with tears again. “It’s alright, Natalia. I don’t blame you for being upset.” She leaned in a little closer, tapping the side of her small nose with her jeweled index finger. “I have led a bit of a double life too, lately.”
I was smiling relief through misty eyes, and she handed me a sweet-smelling handkerchief from her bag. It was too beautiful to use, but holding it made me feel better.
“Being gone and unnoticed from your father is nothing new to me, and you seem to have had a time of it lately.” She looked serious for a moment. “I am a little sad that you didn’t come to me about Felix. All those years without anyone to tell. Pippa’s wonderful, nothing like her half-brother, your father. I just wish you’d come to me, Natalia, I’m not all that bad.” Her own eyes seemed to grow incredibly sad, threatening to well with tears, but she had far more emotional control than I did. She had decades of practice.
She sat there, perched on the edge of a chair, waiting. She was so calm, so composed. I wanted to tell her everything, about Mikey, the baby, and most of all about Claridge, but something held me back. I realized how little I trusted anyone. My own mother was even making me suspicious, fueling a paranoia which had been growing since I had met Mikey.
She exhaled loudly. “Natalia, I have a lot to tell you and not much time, but I don’t want you to feel any pressure. Something tells me you need help right now, so I’m offering it. You can take it or leave it, but I’d take it if I were you. I’ll have to be gone in a few hours and I know my visit is unexpected.”
She stared off into the distance before bringing herself back with a small jolt. It was like she was used to being numbed by our family’s ways.
“I just need you to know, I’m here for you… I…”
I couldn’t stop myself; I felt the locks inside me breaking as I began to weep again, throwing myself from the chair to her feet, clutching at her like the only safe thing in the world.
I didn’t know where to start, but the most obvious thing was being pregnant again. I was so scared. I was terrified that if I told her she would expose me to my father.
A single, gentle stroking hand across my hair; her whispers of calm encouragement were all I needed to let me know I was safe, that it would be alright. It would be tricky and dangerous, but it would be alright.
“I won’t say anything you don’t want me to, to anyone, Natalia. I’m here for you now. I know I wasn’t your whole life, but I didn’t think you wanted me there. I have to put myself in front of you now… I… I don’t have a lot of time myself.”
I clutched her harder than before. I knew she would say that, I knew she was dying. I had known it since seeing her in the garden that day. It was just the last thing I wanted to consider, not on top of everything else.
Not now, God, please not just yet.
Thirty-Six
Mikey
Seeing Claridge again unexpectedly wasn’t what I needed. I’d started to feel like every other time in my life, where I thought I was doing some good, maki
ng some progress; only to feel the sting of other people laughing at me behind my back. In this case, they weren’t laughing and it was straight to my face. I had to get the information I needed to Claridge, and get my shit together if my plans for a future were going to work. Trouble was, there was that little bug in my brain, which had a taste for things that it shouldn’t.
I was feeling more lost than ever. I had started great guns with Natalia and felt like I was blowing it while battling to tell myself everything I was doing, drinking and putting up my nose was for us.
Hmmmm.
My own paranoia was starting to get the better of me and the thought of spending more time in Bernardi’s party palace without any information to give Claridge, while fun, was starting to feel like suicide. It felt more like I was hurting Natalia, too. I’d asked around at the house for her, if she’d called or asked after me, but was always told some bullshit story and then quickly had a drink or straw put into my hand.
To my credit, I never touched another girl the whole time I was away from Natalia. Every time I’d seen a missed call from her, I was interrupted or was whisked away by the Bernardi train again. I also felt sour over having walked out on her after pushing her away. Every time I even thought about it, I cringed. I couldn’t face her now. I punched the air with my fist at the thought of how I’d probably screwed it up with her as well as everybody else.
Mikey strikes again.
I couldn’t face Bernardi or his fake hospitality, and I couldn’t call Natalia. I most certainly couldn’t go home myself. So I did what I always did when I felt that my back was to the wall, after I had exhausted all options.