She glares at me. "I wouldn't know."
"You wouldn't?"
"I like you," she says, hesitating before adding, "most days, anyway."
"Good to know." I pull her to me again. "And me not liking you is improbable, Karissa. Sure, sometimes you can be frustrating, but you keep life interesting, that's for certain."
She relaxes against me, sighing. "It's so weird to me. Like, even Melody's dad is like that? He's a freaking businessman. She said her parents are perfect together."
"Perfection doesn't exist," I reply. "It's a mask people wear to conceal their ugly truths. Never trust someone who only ever smiles at you."
She's quiet for a beat. "Ray only ever smiles at me."
I kiss the top of her head. "Exactly."
"Next customer down here!"
The voice is loud and impatient, not the sort of friendly customer service one would want in a place like this. I step up to the counter, seeing the boy's annoyed expression as he glares down at the register, wearing a puke-green colored apron. He senses my presence and grumbles, "what do you want?"
"Depends on what you can get me."
He glances up, his annoyed expression growing, but he freezes when he catches my eye. I wondered if he would recognize me, considering we've only met once, but his wide eyes tell me he does. "Uh, hey… Ignazio, right?"
"Right."
Paul stares at me, contemplating, before clearing his throat and looking back down at the register. "So what can I get for you?"
"I want what you gave my fiancée."
He hesitates, eyes flickering to me again. I can see his concern, the expression all I need to give me my answers. I'm here on a hunch, little hints of suspicion that had been dropped around me the past few months, but what I lacked was information… information that his eyes just gave me.
Karissa drugged me once, not long ago, using a tiny vial of powder that she got somewhere. I've watched her meticulously since she came into my life. I know her habits. I know everyone she talks to, everyone she deals with. There are only so many ways she could've come upon such a potent drug, only a handful of people capable of getting it for her.
The list whittled down to just one… just one, who so easily gave himself away with a look. Strike three. He's out.
"I didn't, uh… I'm not sure what you mean. I don't know what she told you, but I didn't give her anything."
I can practically see him sweating, his voice low and cracking at his denial. People are easy to read, especially untrained liars.
"You've never waited on her before?" I ask, cocking at eyebrow. "She comes here all the time with your girlfriend."
"Oh, uh, yeah, sure." He wipes his forehead absently before offering a smile that's full of relief. "Chocolate Mint Tea."
"Yes," I say. "I'll take one of those."
Paul rings it up and I pay with a twenty-dollar bill, telling him to keep the change. I linger off to the side while they make my drink, keeping my eyes on Paul as I wait.
He's passive now, his voice quiet and his words polite.
I rattled him.
When my drink is ready, I nod to Paul in greeting before walking outside. I stroll around the corner, to where my car is parked in the alley, and take a sip of the drink. Disgusting.
I throw it right in the Dumpster.
Paul gets off a few minutes later. I'm standing in the alleyway behind the café, leaning against the brick building beside Paul's car. He's too cheap to pay for street parking so he leaves it parked cockeyed not far from the Dumpster. He steps out, not paying any attention, phone glued to his ear as he rambles on to someone. He turns to head for his car, keys in hand, and gasps loudly, startled by my presence. The phone slips, crashing to the alley.
Before he can reach for it, I push away from the wall, stepping right on the phone, smashing it beneath my shoe. His eyes widen, horror flashing in their depths.
He doesn't have time to react before I grab a hold of him. Arms around him, my gloved hands grasp his throat, fingers going right for the jugular.
Ten seconds.
That's it.
Ten measly seconds and his body goes limp, falling unconscious in my arms. Karissa fights me in bed more than he just did. I drag him around the side of the Dumpster, where my car awaits, trunk already open. Picking him up, I shove him inside, grabbing a roll of duct tape. I unwind it, securing his wrists and ankles together before wrapping it around his head, covering his mouth and nose.
He'll be dead within minutes from oxygen deprivation.
Slamming the trunk closed, I toss the rest of the duct tape in the dumpster and climb back in my car, driving away from the alley.
Easy and clean, relatively painless, but that matters little to me. I won't watch him die, won't bask in the afterglow, but I would if I could. If I had my way, I'd make it slow and excruciating, but I'm short on time.
I have somewhere to be.
Glancing at my watch, I sigh.
I'm already going to be late.
It takes nearly an hour for me to make it back to Brooklyn with traffic. I park the car in the driveway and head right inside, opening the front door and stalling. Karissa stands in the living room, wearing a red dress and a pair of high heels, her hair down and slightly curled. She's wearing make-up… a lot of make-up, her lips the same blood red shade as her dress. She's holding her phone to her ear and turns to me just as mine starts ringing in my pocket.
I don't bother looking. The moment she lowers her phone and touches the screen, mine silences.
She was calling me.
"I was wondering where you were," she says.
"I had something to take care of," I say, shutting the door behind me as my eyes scan her. "You look beautiful."
She fidgets with her clothing a bit. "It's your favorite dress."
I raise my eyebrows with surprise. "Is it?"
"Yes." She looks at me incredulously. "You said it was, anyway. It's the one I wore in Vegas."
"Ah, then definitely my favorite." I don't pay attention to what she wears, but that day was certainly one of my favorites. "So are you ready?"
"No." Her voice is firm, the word accompanied by the adamant shake of her head.
"No?"
"No," she says again. "I'm not going."
"You're not going?"
"No, I'm not," she says. "This isn't my thing, anyway. I don't see why I have to go."
"You don't see why you have to go?"
"Yes, so I refuse. Tell him I decline his invitation."
I stare at her for a moment. I can tell she's uneasy. I'm anxious enough at the moment without having to absorb her nerves also. "You want me to tell Raymond Angelo that you're refusing his request to attend?"
"Yes," she says, wavering for a second before continuing, "well, no… you couldn't put it another way?"
"What other way?"
"I don't know." She throws her hands up in exasperation. "Tell him I'm sick. I have the flu or something. I'm puking all over the place."
I wish I could, and I would if I could, but Ray is no fool. Her not showing up would be viewed as a personal snub, and I'm just now getting him to where he'll consider her existence as more than temporary.
I glance at my watch again. The dinner party starts in fifteen minutes.
"We won't stay long," I reassure her. "Let's just make an appearance to humor the man."
She scrunches up her nose but doesn't argue, heading right past me out the door. I follow her, locking up the house, and give a glance toward the trunk as I head for the car. She's already in the passenger seat when I slip inside, and I don't hesitate, starting the car up and pulling away.
I'm distracted during the drive, frequently glancing in the rear view mirror, listening intently for any sounds from the trunk. All is silent and still around me, except for Karissa's mindless chatter.
She's talkative today.
Nerves, I gather, but it does nothing to soothe my own. I drum my gloved fingers against the steering wheel as I wait at
red lights, continuing to watch all around me, when her voice grows louder, practically growling. "Ignazio!"
I turn to her, alarmed. "What's wrong?"
"That's what I'm wondering," she says. "I've been talking to you for the past twenty minutes and I don't think you've heard a word I've said."
"That's because I haven't."
Her brow furrows, the frustration melting away to genuine concern. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing," I say, giving another glance in the rear view mirror just as the light turns green. "I'm listening now. What were you saying?"
"I asked if your hands were cold."
"No. Why?"
The response is from my lips before I give it any thought. My eyes drift to my hands clutching the steering wheel, to the leather gloves I'm still wearing.
She doesn't answer, knowing she doesn't need to.
She sees me look at them.
I have no explanation for her.
I wait until I hit the next red light to pull them off, reaching over to toss them in the center console.
Karissa watches me, shaking her head. "It concerns me when you're like this. Last time you picked me up this distracted, I thought you were mad at me. You didn't look at me the entire drive, cancelled our plans and went straight to your house."
I know exactly what day she's talking about.
I had a body in the trunk then, too.
"I'm not mad at you," I say in place of an actual response.
"Good to know, but something has you on edge."
She doesn't say another word the rest of the drive. When I get to Ray's, we're already fifteen minutes late. Cars pack his driveway and the area around his house. I find a place to park across the street and cut the engine, remaining in my seat for a moment to try to clear my head. Karissa is staring straight ahead out of the windshield, anxiously biting on the inside of her cheek.
"Here," I say, reaching into my pocket and pulling out a peppermint, holding it out to her. "Take it."
She hesitates before snatching it up. "Are you suggesting my breath stinks?"
"Not at all." I pull out a piece for myself and slip it in my mouth. I tuck it along my cheek to suck on it. "It's a little trick I learned. Whenever a situation makes you nervous, suck on a piece of hard candy. It's psychological. Your brain thinks if you were in any real danger, you wouldn't be eating something, so it reasons that you're perfectly fine."
Also, it'll keep her from talking so damn much.
She pops the mint in her mouth. "I've never seen you eat one of these before."
"Very little makes me nervous."
"But you're nervous now."
Not a question.
I hope that doesn't mean my anxiety is obvious.
"Yeah, well, I don't want to be here any more than you do, sweetheart."
I lock up the car once we get out, my eyes skimming along the trunk involuntarily before I turn away. I offer Karissa a smile when I see she's fidgeting, reaching over to take her hand.
Linking our fingers together, I squeeze lightly, running my tongue along the peppermint in my mouth.
She stays in step with me, fingernails digging into the back of my hand when we reach the porch. I ring the doorbell, the front door opening instantly, animated voices streaming out from inside. Kelvin stands in front of us. I wonder how much Ray paid him to go from working the door at Cobalt to watching the door at his house.
"Vitale," he greets me, his gaze dropping right away as he steps aside. "They're waiting for you."
I say nothing, pulling Karissa inside as Kelvin shuts the door behind us. She stares at him briefly, wide eyed, before pushing herself closer to me.
"I know him," she hisses under her breath.
"He's the bouncer at the club you frequented," I say, filling in any blanks for her. "He also works at Cobalt."
She looks between us in shock before her eyes ultimately settle on me. "You have him watch me?"
"No, he just happened to recognize you that first night."
She doesn't look as if she believes me, but I don't have a chance to convince her otherwise. Before either of us can speak again, Ray's voice calls out from his den where everyone has gathered. "Vitale!"
Taking a deep breath, I squeeze Karissa's hand reassuringly before pulling her that direction. There are about two-dozen people hanging around, chatting and drinking, waiting on dinner to start. I stroll right over to Ray, Karissa in tow, and nod politely. "Ray."
"Glad you could make it," he says. "I started to worry when eight o'clock rolled around and there was no sign of you."
"I got a little caught up with business," I explain. "I wouldn't miss tonight for anything."
"Good, good." Ray slaps my shoulder, patting me on the back, before turning his focus on Karissa. Before she can react, he grabs her free hand. "I'm happy you could join us, Miss Rita."
I tense at his intentional use of that name—Rita. Karissa doesn't acknowledge it. He smiles at her silence, bringing her hand to his lips and kissing the back of it.
"Thank you," she says quietly, "for inviting me."
"Of course." He lets go and stares at her for a moment before turning to me. "Vitale, come… say hello to the men while the women chit-chat."
Karissa shoots me a panicked look, but Ray's waltzing away before I can refuse him. I lean toward Karissa, kissing the corner of her mouth, before whispering, "You'll be okay. I'll only be a few minutes."
I have to pry my hand away, seeing Ray watching me from his office door, waiting for me to join him. I walk past him, inside, and he slips in after me, shutting the door. A few men lurk in here, some of the top guys in the organization, sitting around, sipping scotch and discussing business.
Ray doesn't bother offering me a drink. He knows I won't accept it. He slips into his chair behind his desk while I perch along the side of the room, surveying them. They talk about this and that… schemes and plots… while I stay quiet, Ray watching for my reaction to it all.
He's putting me under a fucking microscope.
Ten minutes pass… twenty… thirty… I frequently glance at my watch, wanting this to be over. Forty-five minutes later, and I've had about as much as I can take. I stand up, trying to slip out undetected, but Ray won't let me go without a fight.
"Somewhere you need to be, Vitale?"
"Just going to check on Karissa."
"She's fine," Ray says.
"I'm sure you're right, but still, I'd like to check."
He hesitates before waving dismissively.
I head out of the office, back into the den. The crowd is thinner as people scattered throughout the house. A quick glance around tells me Karissa isn't here. My chest tightens, and I excuse myself just as someone tries to speak to me, making my way through the house, looking for her. I head past the living room, my footsteps faltering when I glance inside, catching sight of the vibrant red dress.
I stall in the doorway. She's alone, the room quiet and dimly lit, as she gazes up at the mantle above the fireplace. I watch her for a moment before slowly strolling toward her. I don't even have to look. I know what it is she sees.
I know, because I see it every time I come to this place.
"Karissa."
She jumps at the sound of my voice, glancing my way, a panicked look on her face. "I, uh… I was just heading to the bathroom, and well…"
"I get it."
I pause right behind her as she turns back around, her gaze going right back to the picture frame on the mantle. The photo is nearly two decades old but well preserved in the glass, like it was just taken yesterday.
Yesterday… it feels like yesterday. Feels like yesterday I stood in front of that photographer, an arm around Maria, wearing that godforsaken tuxedo while she nearly drowned in that poufy white dress. It was pretentious, everything neither of us were, but it had been her dream to have a wedding just like her parents.
So I'd given it to her.
"You look so happy," Karissa whispers.
"I was happy," I confess, my chest tightening as I gaze at the old photograph. "Very happy."
"Are you…?" She pauses for a moment. "Are you happy now?"
I can feel her gaze on me. My eyes shift to meet hers. I drink in her apprehension as she once more bites on her cheek nervously.
I'm not sure how to answer that question. A part of me yearns to just say 'yes', to ease all of her worries because I think it's what she wants to hear. What she needs to hear. But another part of me just can't lie to her.
"Not like I was then," I say, watching as the trepidation morphs to dejection. "I was naïve, Karissa. I thought perfection existed, and I thought I'd found it. I thought I was untouchable, that nothing and nobody could ever take away what I had. I was happy, because I was a fool. I've learned a lesson since then, a hard lesson, and I can't be that person anymore. I can never be that happy again."
She ducks her head, averting her eyes. I reach out and cup her chin, pulling her face up so she'll look at me again. I don't want her to misconstrue this, or walk away thinking I'm saying something I'm not.
"I'm not naïve anymore," I tell her. "But that doesn't mean you don't make me happy, because you do… in your own way. What I have with you isn't blissfully ignorant. It's real, and it isn't always pretty, but when it's good, it's good. So yeah, I'm happy, Karissa. A different kind of happy. The kind of happy that says even if this all destroys me, and it might, it'll all be worth it."
She smiles, a small smile, as she slips into my arms, nuzzling into my chest. I press my cheek to the top of her head, rubbing her back, when a throat clears from the doorway. Glancing over, I meet a set of beady dark eyes that pierce through us.
Martina Angelo.
"Mrs. Angelo," I say politely. "Nice to see you."
She says nothing, turning from me to look at Karissa. She curves an eyebrow judgmentally, her eyes scanning her slowly, picking her apart with a gaze. After a moment, the woman looks at me again. "Dinner's ready. Ray was looking for you. Figured you were off with your…" She waves toward Karissa dismissively. "Her."
Martina walks away, leaving us alone again. Karissa looks up at me questioningly. "Ray's wife?"
"Yes."
She shakes her head. "I like Brandy so much better."
Torture to Her Soul Page 24