John + Siena: The Complete Duet

by Bethany-Kris

  It wasn’t that she was concerned about. She really did just need a day off.

  “I work all the time, Dad,” Siena said. “I rarely ask for time off. Sometimes I’m working seven days a week. The least you could do is give me one day when I ask for it. And I don’t ask for it very often.”

  “No, you don’t.”

  “Exactly,” Siena said.

  “What were you planning to do today, then?” her father asked.

  “I was going to spend the day with John.”

  “John.” Her father didn’t even sound surprised, simply interested. “And how is he lately?”

  “He’s … fine.”

  “Fine?”

  “Yeah.”

  Matteo made a noise under his breath. “Your brothers mentioned that he seemed a little off last week. Not his normal self, or something of that sort.”

  “Off?” Siena asked.

  “Yes, off.” Matteo chuckled, adding “All men in our business get a little off sometimes. It’s not unusual. They simply mentioned that he didn’t seem up to par.”

  “He’s fine with me. I haven’t noticed anything.”

  Or rather, nothing that she was going to tell her father.

  “Well, maybe that was just Darren and Kev.”

  Siena placated her father’s assumption, but inside, she knew differently. After talking to John’s mother a few days earlier, she was more observant of him. She noticed things that she might otherwise have overlooked. She paid closer attention to his behaviors, and the things he did when he thought she wasn’t looking.

  Sometimes, it was worrying.

  What was more concerning to her was the fact that other people were starting to notice. Clearly, people were noticing. John’s family. Her brothers, if this conversation with her father was any indication.

  Siena was sure John would not want people like her father or brothers knowing anything was wrong, if something was.

  “Nothing’s wrong with John, Dad,” Siena said. “He’s a little tired lately. Like me, he works too much.”

  “Sure,” Matteo replied. “Men like us always work too much.”

  Siena wished she believed her father. Something in his tone—a lilt she didn’t recognize right away—felt like he was placating her. Matteo wasn’t very good at hiding those things. Or most times, he didn’t even try.

  He was the kind of man who believed women should be seen, but not heard. Especially the women in his life. He would never expect Siena to ask him anything, or to call him out on his lies. She had not been raised to do that, but right then, it took every ounce of her willpower not to do it.

  The only reason she didn’t do it was for John. She didn’t want her father thinking something was wrong. Or rather, that she knew something was, as he said, off with John.

  The Marcellos didn’t trust the Calabrese family. Unfortunately, that also included her. There was nothing Siena could do about that, except stay loyal to the one person that mattered the most to her. John.

  Regardless of how John’s family felt, Siena was going to take care of John. That meant watching his back and looking out for him. He needed somebody on his side, and she was that person. They didn’t have to believe it—or like it—for it to be true.

  As for her father … well, there had to be a reason why the Marcellos didn’t trust the Calabrese. Knowing her family like she did, she didn’t need to question why. They had done enough things over the years that Siena had seen from afar to know that they would do anything to get wherever they wanted to be.

  And her father?

  Her brothers?

  They had always wanted to be on top.

  Had they done anything to John? No. At least, not that Siena had seen. Nothing that she could point to and say, yes, this was directly related to harming John, or his family.

  She had seen nothing like that.

  She knew nothing like that.

  Yet.

  Because with the men of her family, it was hard to tell what they might do next if given the opportunity. She didn’t trust them, and she definitely didn’t like her father digging for things about John.

  Siena asked, “Is it okay if I take a day?”

  “I guess so,” Matteo said.

  “Great, thanks.”

  “And do let John know he can come to me anytime, if he needs something.”

  “Yeah, I’ll let him know.”

  Except she wouldn’t.

  Not at all.

  Siena hung up the phone, and set the device aside. On the countertop, the screen blanked out. She continued to stare at it long after the phone call was over. Something just wasn’t sitting right with her. Not about her father, and not about John.

  She was brought back to the things she had been noticing about John. Things she had overlooked before because the changes had come on slowly, and she felt maybe they were normal for him, considering. She didn’t have experience with bipolar.

  Only John.

  Siena knew the truth was clearer than she wanted to admit. She was close to John. Very close. Her perception of him was tainted by her feelings. She was willing to turn cheek to certain things because she cared, and she didn’t want to upset him.

  She was worried she might not be able to do that anymore. Not if it meant his health—mental or otherwise—well-being, and safety was on the line.

  There was no doubt in her mind that John was not aware of the changes he was exhibiting. If he knew, wouldn’t he ask for help? Wouldn’t he do something about it?

  She thought so.

  Siena didn’t snoop. She wasn’t the type, and she didn’t want to betray anyone’s trust by doing so.

  Especially not John.

  But at the moment, John had headed out for a jog because apparently he needed to run even though it was February. He was grabbing them breakfast on the way back, or so he said.

  What that meant to Siena, however, was that she had a few minutes alone inside John’s place. She could either confirm or deny some of her suspicions about his current state.

  It made her sick to think about it.

  It hurt her heart to consider it.

  Yet, she knew she didn’t have a choice. If John was in the midst of a hypomanic episode, or working towards a full-blown mania, then it would only hurt him to continue to ignore it.

  She couldn’t ignore it.

  She had to know.

  Jordyn’s words had been playing on repeat every day since the dinner.

  He seems fine, she had said. He seems productive. He’ll work and work. He’ll deny if you ask because he really doesn’t think anything is wrong. Sometimes he can recognize his problem, and sometimes he can’t. It’s a roll of the dice.

  For whatever reason, Jordyn had felt like she needed to tell Siena those things. A part of her was grateful because it gave her a better sense of what was really going on with John, and maybe how to help. A smaller part of her had been stuck in a constant state of worry since that night.

  Because …

  What would it mean if John was approaching a full blown manic episode? What would it mean if he was already there? How could she help him, then?

  Siena didn’t know, so right then, she opted to push those thoughts aside. She would deal with it later.

  Walking through the small two-level Queens home that John kept meticulously clean, Siena took things in again with a new eye. No dirt could be seen, and nothing was out of place. The bookcases and shelves showcasing the movies in the living room were organized by what seemed to be his favorites. The black shelves didn’t have even one speck of dust. She was pretty sure she could eat off the floor, not that she would try.

  Every room downstairs was the same. Clean, organized, and looking almost like a showcase. Not as though someone lived there, but as if it was ready for a buyer to come in and have a look around.

  Cold, in a way. A lot of John’s personality was not actually on display in his home. Sure, he had things he liked here and there. Artwork, knickknacks,
and different things. But little else. Nothing to say he had just spent a good eight hours walking around in his own home, and once again, cleaning it from top to bottom.

  Eight hours, Siena knew, because yet again, John had not slept. Every time she spent the night at his place, or he at hers, she would wake up to find John roaming the halls. He might be scrolling through his phone, or watching TV. Sometimes he would be cleaning something, or staring out the window at nothing.

  When she asked, he assured her that he wasn’t tired. Nothing he did belied that fact. He was full of energy, he kept going constantly, and he never missed a click. There was no sign of exhaustion in his eyes. He never even yawned.

  So no, she didn’t think he was tired. At least, not physically.

  Mentally, though?

  Mentally he had to be exhausted.

  And maybe that was the problem. Maybe his mind just wouldn’t stop. Maybe he couldn’t sleep because his mind wouldn’t slow down enough to allow his body to rest.

  She was upstairs looking through the meticulously organized closet when she heard the doorbell ring downstairs. Quickly, she made her way down to the main floor, and didn’t bother to check the front door before she swung it open.

  On the other side, a delivery man waited. He had a whole moving dolly full of boxes. Big ones, and small ones.

  Siena did a quick count.

  Fifteen boxes in all.

  “Sign for these, ma’am,” the man said.

  He held out a tablet and pen for her to write on.

  “Are you sure these are for the right address?” Siena asked.

  “Definitely for this address,” the man said. “I’ve been delivering here every day for the last week.”

  Siena stilled. “Every single day?”

  “That’s what I said, ain’t it?”

  Siena signed for the goods, then allowed the delivery man to roll the dolly in, and set the boxes of things in the hallway. She didn’t even bother to say goodbye to the man as he left the house, and closed the door behind him.

  She was too busy staring at the pile of boxes. This was the first time all week that she had spent the night at John’s house. She had been busy with work ever since the dinner with his family the week before.

  Siena didn’t even think about it as she stared at those boxes. She didn’t consider that it might be a betrayal of John’s trust. She had promised him she wouldn’t overstep his personal boundaries, but this was worrying to her.

  His mother had mentioned one specific thing that really stood out. One of his behaviors when he was dealing with mania was spending money. A lot of money. Sometimes, he didn’t even remember that he had spent it. The things he bought didn’t have to be needed, wanted, or otherwise.

  It just had to be things.

  In the kitchen, Siena pulled out a chair from the table, and dragged it to the fridge. Climbing up, she opened the cupboard doors overtop the fridge. There, she found his medications. By the looks of it, more medications than what he had the last time she accidentally stumbled upon them.

  But this wasn’t like the last time.

  Siena actually pulled out the medications from the cupboard. She looked them over. She read the prescription dates when they had been filled, and for some, she even opened up the bottles and counted the pills. One bottle had been filled a month ago, and according to how many pills had been prescribed, it should have been empty.

  Yet, it was still half full.

  Lithium, the prescription read.

  Another prescription of Lithium she pulled from the cupboard had been filled the week before. And yet, it had not even been opened.

  And another med that had just been filled was also not opened. Several, actually.

  Siena knew it for sure then.

  John was in trouble.

  Siena was waiting by the door when John finally came up the walkway. His one-hour run, and the promise to bring home breakfast, had turned in to three hours. It was already closing in on noon. She tried not to be worried, but she was way past that point now.

  She opened the door before he could even reach for it. His wide smile at the sight of her standing there said he didn’t see a thing wrong. Not with her, or with himself.

  Siena knew that was half of the problem. At least for John.

  “What happened to getting breakfast?” she asked.

  John laughed. “Shit, I forgot.”

  “Forgot?”

  “Yeah, I got caught up with something else.”

  “And what was that?”

  John shrugged. “Saw somebody I recognize from way back. Before I knew it, we had been talking for a fucking hour.”

  She stepped back, and he walked into the house. He barely even passed a glance at the mountain of boxes sitting in the hallway. It was like they weren’t a surprise to him, but he wasn’t interested in them, either.

  “John, these came this morning,” she said.

  He waved a hand, and nodded. “Yeah okay.”

  “When did you order them?”

  “Not sure.”

  Siena frowned. “Well, what’s in them?”

  “Shit, I imagine.”

  And just like that, John was gone from her view and inside the kitchen. The boxes were forgotten, and he had moved on to something new.

  Siena tried to work up the nerve to bring up his medications as she headed for the kitchen. Inside, she found him pulling out a glass, and filling it up with cold water. She had been up with him since six that morning. Because of that, she knew he hadn’t taken his medications. He took them at breakfast.

  With food.

  Always.

  He hadn’t done that this morning. She wondered when the last time was that he had taken his meds, or even had an appointment with his therapist.

  In sweatpants, a sweater, and with a wool cap pulled down over the top of his head, he didn’t look like the cold weather outside had affected him at all. Like maybe he didn’t feel it.

  “John—”

  Siena’s question was interrupted by knock at the front door. She looked out the kitchen window, but couldn’t see who it was from there. John dropped a kiss to her cheek as he passed her by, and left to answer the door.

  Siena slipped into the hallway just as John pulled open the front door.

  A man Siena didn’t recognize stood waiting with a folder in his hands. The color of blood, the folder stood out brightly against the black outfit the man wore, and the white of the snow falling down around him.

  “Kent,” John said. “What are you doing here this morning?”

  Kent handed over the file. “Somebody ran this to me today, and let me know I needed to get it to you as soon as possible.”

  John took the file, and tapped it against his palm. “Thanks, man.”

  The man nodded. “No problem, John.”

  Kent turned on the stoop, and left without another word. John closed the door, and faced Siena.

  “Who was that?” she asked.

  “An enforcer,” John said, still looking at the file in his hands. “One that works for a Marcello Capo on the other side of the city.”

  “He came all the way over here to give you a file?”

  “That’s his job. He does what he’s told, not what he wants to do.”

  John opened the file as he slid past Siena in the hall. It took all of two seconds for his easy-going posture to change. He went from unbothered and calm, to as stiff as a board just like that.

  “John?”

  He was silent. His back stayed turned to her. She couldn’t see his eyes, or judge from the expression on his face what was wrong.

  So quiet.

  Deathly so.

  “What the fuck?”

  That was all he said.

  Siena was frozen to the spot. “What is it?”

  “I … don’t know. I mean, I do—fuck.”

  His outburst sent a sharp stab of cold dread piercing into her heart. The file went flying from John’s hand, and crashed into a wal
l in the next second. Papers scattered everywhere. In the next breath, he grabbed the small table that held knickknacks and a decorative glass bowl, and overturned it with just a flick of his wrist.

  Glass shattered all over the floor. John’s curses reverberated through the house.

  Siena was still frozen in place.

  She didn’t know what to do. Move, or stay right where she was. A fear settled deep in her gut. Not a fear of John, but of the unknown. Because she realized in that moment that she didn’t know how to help him.

  “John,” Siena said, “are you—”

  “Why would they fucking send me that?” John’s fist crashed through the wall, crumbling plaster. He didn’t even flinch. She didn’t think he felt the pain. Turning fast, he faced her with wild eyes and teeth bared. “Like they think I don’t already know what your family did to mine? Like I need a fucking reminder everyday now, or something?”

  Siena didn’t understand what he was talking about. She didn’t understand what had set this off.

  “John—”

  No matter what, this was still John to her. Her John. Even angry, confused, and irrational. He was still her John. She saw his outburst, and faced it head-on.

  “Tell me what’s wrong,” she said.

  “Fuck.”

  One last curse, and one more thrown item to the floor, and John turned his back. As fast as he was in front of her, he was gone. She heard his footsteps echo as he headed up the stairs.

  Yet, she was still frozen in place.

  It took far too long for Siena to move again. Instead of going after John, she moved to the papers on the floor. She picked up one, and then another. Newspaper clippings, and items of a similar nature stared back at her. Her gaze drifted over the words, and the pictures attached.

  Old newspapers. Old news.

  It was still as clear as day.

  The intention was obvious.

  Marco Grovatti, one of the headlines read, killed in his home.

  Another one … another headline… Johnathan Grovatti, son of murdered mob boss, attends father’s funeral with wife.

  Young Calabrese Capo suspected of murdering former boss.

  Carl Calabrese takes over Grovatti family.

  Over and over again.