by Ivy Fox
Her shoulders slump, and I know I’ve hit the nail on the head. I turn her around, wanting her to confirm that this is the reason why she abandoned us, leaving me half a man.
“That’s it, isn’t it?” I beg, wishing she had just made it clear as to why she would go the lengths she did to hide from us. She mauls her lower lip, looking so uncertain, killing my composure completely.
“Selene, is that why?” I ask shaking her shoulders desperately.
“Mammà, is everything okay?” I hear a small voice behind me, and my heart starts to beat erratically at the sound of the childlike voice.
My hands fall away from Selene’s shoulders, and her green-filled eyes turn from sorrow to horror, and then swiftly back to her absolute calm facade. She pushes me to the side, bypassing me without another look, and heads toward the voice I’m frightened to face.
“Mammà?”
“It’s okay, Jude. Everything is okay,” she singsongs, trying to play off the conversation the young boy must have heard.
I stand in place, keeping my back to the child, because I may really burn this house down to the ground as I threatened once I see that his features resemble the man who got out of the car.
“Mammà, who is that?”
“A friend, kiddo. From way back when I was your age. How about you go play in your room and let us catch up?” She tries to persuade him.
“I don’t want to. I’m going to stay here and make sure you’re okay,” he replies, suspicion and protectiveness coating each word.
“I am,” Selene says reassuringly.
“You said you’d bring Dad. Where is he?”
“Next door at Mrs. Henderson’s, where I thought you were, young man,” she replies, accusing softly.
“Then maybe we both should go over there,” he adds, and if I wasn’t so nervous, I might have smiled at his clever rouse to get his mother out of harm’s way.
“Sure, Jude. Hmm… Let me just say goodbye to my friend here,” she replies nervously.
I take a breath, summoning all the strength I have to face James and Selene’s son without losing my mind.
“I see that I’ve come at a bad time. I’ll show myself out,” I announce, turning to face my nightmare in the eye.
The only thing is, instead of dark eyes resembling the man who married my love, I’m confronted with hazel greens like mine. I open my mouth and close it again, as I take stock of every detail of the boy’s features. Dark-brown hair, long enough on top to fall to his eyes. Strong cut jaw, but still holding his childlike chubby cheeks. It’s as if I’m looking at the old photograph I keep on my fireplace mantle, where Pietro and I were still so young and clueless to what burdens this life would give us. Yet, it’s not my blond, blue-eyed cousin I’m fixated on, but rather my replica in front of me.
Jude walks over to Selene and stands in front of her, protectively putting himself between his mother and me.
“Maybe this isn’t the best time to talk, Vincent,” she chokes out, and Jude looks up at her with a surprised look on his face, and then returns his stare to mine with the same puzzlement I’m feeling.
“I think you’re right,” I stutter, overwhelmed with too many emotions to think clearly.
Before I’m able to say or do something that will tarnish Jude’s opinion of me, I rush out of the small house which holds the family I always dreamed of having, but was stolen from me.
I drive around Nashville for hours. The photograph I stole from Selene’s house, now carefully placed on my lap, haunts every minute of my journey. A baby Jude in Selene’s arms, accompanied by an elated Anna Maria, placing his binky back into his mouth—a picture-perfect family moment, taken by someone other than me.
My phone continues to blow up, but none of the callers are who I want to talk to right now. I need answers, and Chicago doesn’t hold any for me.
“Mr. Romano, should we find a hotel to stay the night or would you like me to drive you back to the airport?” my driver asks, obviously tired of running circles around this town.
“No. Take me back to Cedar Grove,” I order, not sure if I’m in the best frame of mind yet to return to Selene’s home. Unfortunately, after today, I’m not sure if I ever will be.
When we drive up to her street, I see someone familiar sitting on the stoop, looking as if he’s been waiting for my arrival. Once my driver parks, I get out and slam the door, hastening my step to talk to the man I helped liberate and who can give me some answers.
“Vincent,” he says in greeting, and there is a tinge of country in his accent.
I’m sure Selene just melts when he says her name. My hands ball into fists at my side, and my mind yells in my ear, telling me to not think of such things. Otherwise, this will be a short conversation as I have more important things to clear up than to fuel my jealousy any longer.
“I came here for answers. I need to know the truth,” I command, forgoing any introductions.
“Then ask her,” he says, taking a sip of his beer. I seethe at his nonchalant reply.
“I can’t,” I spit out, not wanting to let the man before me know how vulnerable his wife makes me feel.
“Ah. So you want me to tell you.” He smirks.
“Yes.”
“Why?” he counters.
“Because I need to learn the truth, and I’m not sure if Selene would lie to me,” I confess.
James chuckles at that.
I really do hate the man.
“So let me get this straight. You want me to tell you how I met my wife? You want to hear the whole sordid love story from my lips, but not hers. Is that it?” he goads.
My teeth grind so hard that I almost break my molars.
“Yes, but I would prefer you didn’t use such terms.”
“What terms? You mean love? That she loves me?” he insists, and if I wasn’t so desperate, I’d put a bullet between his eyes just for the arrogance alone.
“Yes,” I spit out.
“Well tough shit, because if you want the story from me I won’t sugar coat it for your benefit,” he relents snidely.
Lo cazzo!
“Fine. I see Selene still kept up her predilection for assholes,” I snap back with an arctic smile.
“Oh, I think she has made some improvements.”
Stronzo.
“Are you going to be of use to me or not? I think I deserve it after getting you out of jail,” I bite back, hoping he at least feels an ounce of gratitude for my endeavor, enough for him to tell me what I need to know.
“You’re in luck. I’m in a sharing mood today. Selene has lived on lies long enough. I won’t be an accomplice to it any longer. So what do you want to know?” he asks, making room for me on his porch stairs. Begrudgingly I accept his friendly gesture and sit at his side, rather than bash his skull with my gun like I wanted to.
“Everything,” I insist coolly.
“You really are a glutton for punishment, aren’t you? She always did say you were the hardest to love,” he recounts, taking a swig of his beer. “Hardest to forget, too, unfortunately.”
“She talked to you about me?” I ask, surprised.
I can see a tug of a smile on his lips as he keeps his eyes on the distance beyond as if recalling the past.
“That girl couldn’t stop talking about you; about all of you. But that came after Jude. When I met her, she was just a scared, young girl, seven months pregnant with no place to go. She came into my garage hoping I could fix her piece-of-shit carburetor, but one look at her and I knew she had way more important things that needed fixin’.”
“You’re very perceptive—more than most. The Selene I knew always kept her guard up amongst strangers,” I mumble.
“I’m sure she did. But that was before she left behind everything she loved. As cemented as those walls might have been, she was the one who made the first dent, cracking it from floor to ceiling. By the time she arrived on my doorstep, she was nothing b
ut raw grief, praying for the end. Her suffering resonated with mine, and so, although I didn’t know the cause of it, I offered to help. She stayed with me until Jude was born. And then when she tried to leave, I made her tell me the truth.”
“Which was?” I interject.
“Ah, that, I think, she should be the one to tell you. But it was enough for me to know that she was in danger. Being on the run—distraught as she was—with a baby in her arms, she was sure to get caught, so we came up with a plan.”
“A plan?”
“Are you going to interrupt me every five minutes? I thought Giovanni was the talker?” he snipes back, grabbing another beer from a cooler behind him.
His southern hospitality getting the best of him, he hands me one, but I don’t even open it. I need my wits about me, and my use of alcohol to dim my pain is in the past. I want it all—the ugly and merciless to gut me in two, without anything to dull the ache.
“As I was saying, we came up with a plan to hide Selene in plain sight so Jude could have a semi-normal life. I married her, or her alias at least, and she became Mrs. Susan Lewis. She became just the wife of a former army vet, who busts his ass in a small town, self-owned garage while she’s a stay-at-home mom, raising our baby boy. Now tell me, in all your searches, would a woman like Susan even be suspected of being your Selene?”
I shake my head, knowing it was, in fact, the perfect camouflage for her true identity.
“Yep, just what I thought. Can’t take the credit for it though. That was all Selene.”
“So that’s when you fell in love?” I choke out, surprised at being able to say the words.
“Ah, now you want to talk about love. As much as I’m enjoying seeing you squirm, don’t give yourself a coronary. I love Selene, and she loves me, but our relationship was never about that type of love. It was built on something different—a shared understanding that, when you lose a soul mate, nothing else measures up,” he explains, dimming his earthly toned eyes for the first time since we started this conversation.
“You lost someone.” It’s not a question. I feel his pain travel in the air, resembling something similar to my own.
“Tell me, Vincent, have you ever been at war?” he asks out of left field.
I give him a stiff nod as my reply. I don’t think I recall a day I wasn’t battling for my life. Being born into the syndicate meant the streets were your battleground and every day you survived was a miracle in and of itself.
“I spent years fighting for my country. I thought I knew firsthand what war felt like—harboring that powerless feeling in your veins, knowing that as much as you fight to keep your armed brothers alive next to you, some will fall in the end no matter what you do. But I only understood what the true meaning of war was when I came back home. There is nothing worse than seeing the person you love most face their impending death and being helpless to prevent it. I was born a soldier, but my late wife Lori was the true hero in my eyes. We battled two years filled with exams, chemotherapy, and all the drugs under the sun. She did it all with a smile on her face and love in her heart. The day she died, this world lost its light for me. I became just a vessel of flesh and bones. When Selene came into my life, I saw that same emptiness residing inside her. So we trudged each day together, helping each other survive one day at a time without half a heart. She didn’t just leave you. She died for you. Much in the same way I died for Lori when she was taken from me. And from what I can tell, I don’t think you deserved her sacrifice.”
“You don’t know anything about me.”
“Yes, I do. I have ten years’ worth of knowledge regarding you, Vincent. You are a selfish, cold man, and I doubt you have ever put anyone’s interest above your own.” I stand from my seat, not wanting to hear another minute of this man’s interpretation of my character. He lets out a stiff chuckle and takes another pull of his beer, and adds “Anything else you want to know?”
“Is Jude mine?” I question coldly.
“What do you think?” he grunts in response.
“Does he know I’m his father?” I interrogate him, and James tilts his head to the side, taking a good hard look at me.
“He knows. Selene never hid that away from him. But I’d like to clarify something for you before you get your panties in a twist—you might be Jude’s father, but you best believe that boy is my son, too. I have raised him the best I could, and his birth was what saved Selene and me from total ruin.”
I nod and look back at the house that now holds the two missing pieces of my soul.
“There’s something else you should know. She’s already making plans to leave,” James announces, breaking my train of thought and increasing my panic.
“I can’t allow that. Not anymore,” I state plainly.
This afternoon, when I went into their home, a part of me acknowledged that the best thing I could do for Selene was let her have the life she always envisioned for herself. Now, knowing that life is a lie and she has my son with her, I can’t let her leave me. Not again.
“I thought you’d say that,” he grunts, standing up from his seat and facing me head on.
“If you knew, then why tell me? I would assume your loyalties were with Selene.”
“They are and always will be. Call me naive, if you must, but I’m hoping you’re not as much of a pompous, self-centered prick as you seem to be. Perhaps this time, you’ll finally do right by her, as she’s done by the lot of you,” he says accusingly, and turns his back to me, heading back inside where my family has lived for the past decade.
I watch him take each step, but I’m still unable to move.
“James.”
“What?”
“Did Selene name my son?” I croak out, my body filled with nervous energy coursing through its veins. James doesn’t turn around but answers me just the same.
“She did. She told me Jude is the name of the Patron Saint of Lost Souls, and if there was ever a lost soul in need of saving, it was hers. She thought it poetic—the man who she forsook her soul for in the first place, should give her such a redeeming parting gift. But now that I have met you, I don’t believe you could sacrifice yourself for her the same way she did for you. She deserves better, and you’re not it.”
EIGHTEEN
Giovanni
I nurse my drink on the counter, happy that tonight I don’t have the herd of Outfit bunnies around me. I’d swat them away if they tried to get within even ten feet of me. Tonight, all I’m in the mood for is to pull a Vincent and brood over my half glass of top-shelf whiskey.
I can’t believe Vincent went through with it. He actually managed to get Selene’s husband off a murder charge. I saw a lot of money passing dirty hands; at this point, even if the cops had caught James red-handed, he’d still be acquitted. With missing evidence, and a bogus eyewitness suddenly coming forward to state that he saw two strange men carrying Ed into the garage late that night—already dead—well, there were too many loose ends to uphold the charges against him.
I’m ashamed to say I wish Vincent would have stuck to his typical selfish ways and let the man rot in jail. It’s a shitty thing to think since I’m positive he was set up. Still, having him locked up meant my principessa would stay longer in my arms, but now she’s gone back to him. I don’t even know if she’ll return to say goodbye in person this time, or if I’m going to receive another fucking dear-john letter—or in her case, a postcard.
“Cazzo!” I mumble into my glass, and I immediately feel eyes on me. I turn to the side and watch Dominic talk Ciro’s ear off about whatever they bond over in their secluded booth. Ciro tilts his head in my direction, and I raise my glass in salute.
“Eat shit and die, asshole,” I mumble between clenched teeth, with a wide grin plastered on my face.
His own malicious grin appears, and it’s like the bastard heard me from way over there. What the fuck does Dominic see in that guy? I can smell the snake-oil bullshit from here. Th
e man is vile and untrustworthy, yet my giant of a best friend seems unbothered by the sadistic fuck.
Vincent giving him my father’s role in the Outfit still strangles my throat like barb wire. The worst part is the stronzo is actually good at the job. Much better than my father was, and every last capo in the syndicate knows it. As much as I hate to admit it, my father did have compassion, even if I refused to see it growing up.
Ciro though? That fuck doesn’t feel anything. The man is made of stone. Vincent might have a faulty sense of empathy, but that asshole is a black pit of nothingness. He’s only alive when destroying his enemies, and I, for one, wonder when his bloodthirsty morality sets his eyes on us as his next targets.
My thoughts are a rambled mess between Selene and impending threats, when someone pulls at my lapel, knocking me off my seat, and I reach for my gun to blow this motherfucker’s brains out.
“The fuck?!” I yell, when Vincent pulls me up, only to keep his hands on my throat.
“Did you know? Tell me, Giovanni, did you know?” Vincent hollers manically.
“Know what, asshole?” I shout in his face, and from my peripheral vision, I see a sneer rise from Ciro’s lips.
Il Bastardo must be loving this.
Vincent continues his incoherent assault, but luckily Dominic comes to the rescue, and I don’t have to push the fucker off me.
“Not here, Vince. You’re making a scene. Not here, brother,” he warns with bared teeth. Vincent takes two steps back, with his fists still balled and ready to pounce on my pretty face.
Yeah, like that shit’s happening on my watch.
Dominic tilts his head, suggesting we move Vincent’s meltdown to the office downstairs, and disgruntled, he abides. I walk behind Dominic, not sure whatever set Vincent off won’t bite me in the short walk there.
As soon as the office door closes behind me, I have an enraged boss again latched on my throat.
“You! Talk!” Vincent growls like thunder.