by B. B. Hamel
She chose a short black pleated skirt, a tight black crop top with a white mid-length jacket over top, and a pair of black sneakers with a white sole. Her hair was down and slightly wavy, and she wore dark red lipstick. I expected her to look good, but the girl cleaned up really good, I had to admit. Her legs looked like they went on forever, and that slight hint of midriff showed off smooth, tan skin.
“What’s your crew like, anyway?” she asked on the drive over. “You haven’t talked about them much.”
“They’re all different,” I said, shrugging. “My top lieutenant’s name is Stefano. He’s a good guy.”
“I think ‘good’ is probably a relative term, considering you’re all in the mafia,” she said, stretching a little, arching her back with a small smile. I could’ve sworn the girl was doing it to catch my attention.
“Fair enough,” I said, “but compared to some of the others, he’s a goddamn saint. There’s Tomaso, he’s young and new, and I think he might be a psychopath, and then Aaron, he’s been around forever and killed more men than I can count, then—”
“Hold on,” she said, shaking her head. “Killed guys?”
I glanced at her and shrugged. “Mafia,” I said.
She sighed. “Right. Okay. You kill people. Got it.”
I was quiet for a moment. I didn’t know how much I should tell her about my business. She’d gone through enough to be here and I figured I should walk her into this world as slowly as I could. Ash didn’t know the first thing about organized crime, and I had the feeling that she wouldn’t be happy to know that I made my money murdering, stealing, selling drugs, and extorting people. There were also more modern schemes, like buying and selling stocks and crypto coins, but the young guys ran that shit.
I stuck to the old-school activities. Mostly, we ran drugs on my territory, and took a cut of all the little local crews and gangs that wanted to operate on my blocks. We had a typical protection racket where businesses paid me a flat fee monthly, and I’d take care of any general problems they had with customers or anyone else. It was good money, and it flowed in like rainwater.
But she was a rich girl. She grew up in the Main Line, went to preppy private schools, and probably didn’t know a damn thing about living on the street. She’d learn if she stayed with me, but I didn’t think she had to learn all at once.
“That’s not all we do,” I said softly and pulled into a spot a block away from Filthy Frank’s. “But it’s a dangerous business. People get hurt sometimes.”
“That’s an interesting way of putting it,” she said.
I got out of the truck and she followed, hurrying to keep up. I liked the way she walked close to my arm, like she was afraid to be too far away from me. I wanted to tell her that she was as safe as she could possibly be, deep in my own territory, but I decided not to say anything.
Filthy Frank’s was a shithole. She was right about that. I could’ve made it nicer, but didn’t bother. The guys like it with sticky floors, wood-paneled walls, that cheap, tacky green carpeting that looks like fake grass toward the back, a couple ripped-up pool tables, and a jukebox that still played actual records. The bar was right in the middle of the place, and guys were lined up on either side. Some people sat at the tables along the sides, and big mirrors lined the walls, making the place look bigger than it was.
I spotted Stefano, sitting toward the back near the pool tables with a few of the guys. I walked over there with Ash next to my elbow. She stood out in this crowd, and I could tell she noticed. All eyes were on her, on her short skirt, on her nice clothes, on her good manners. She could’ve been wearing paint-stained sweats and she still would’ve been like a shining beacon in this dark pit.
“There’s the boss,” Stefano said, standing a bit. He grinned at me, then nodded to Ash. “This your new girl?”
Ash stiffened a bit, but didn’t correct him.
“Boys, this is Ash,” I said. “She’s staying with me for a while.”
“Good for you, boss,” Tomaso said, grinning at her. “She’s a step up from your usual fare.”
“Easy,” I said.
“Good to meet you,” Stefano said, coming around the table to shake her hand. “The boss don’t bring girls around much. He normally knows better.”
“I think he’s showing me off,” she said, grinning slightly. “Anyway, he can’t really hide me, since I’m staying at his place.”
Stefano’s eyes lit up and I grimaced slightly. I planned on keeping that from them as long as possible.
“Well, shit,” Stefano said. “Look at that, boss. You got a live-in girlfriend. Are you marrying her next?”
“Fuck off,” I said. “Don’t be a dick.”
“Ah, come on,” Stefano said, laughing. “She seems nice. Enjoy it while you can. She’ll realize what sort of trouble you are and get the hell outta there soon.”
“Don’t listen to him, boss,” Tomaso said. “He’s just jealous.”
“I’m not jealous.” Stefano took his seat and slammed back a beer. “I brought home three chicks last week. Count them, three fucking chicks. And I fuck them all.”
“I saw at least one,” Tomaso said, making a face. “And I wouldn’t brag about that if I were you.”
The guys laughed and I held up my hands. “Easy boys,” I said. “I’m getting a table with Ash over there. Stefano, get me a fucking whiskey and come chat.”
“All right, boss,” Stefano said, standing again. “Though I don’t recall becoming your drink bitch.”
“I’ll buy the next round if you stop complaining,” I said.
That got another cheer and Stefano gave me a cocky salute before walking off. I hustled Ash over to a table nearby and got her seated.
“That went well,” she said. “I think. I actually don’t know.”
“They’re just busting my balls,” I said. “Don’t worry, they do it whenever a guy brings a lady around.”
She leaned forward, chin on her hands, and raised her eyebrows. “Do you bring a lot of ladies around, Gian? I have a feeling your type isn’t exactly ladylike.”
I smirked a little and leaned forward her. “I suppose that makes you unladylike yourself, then.”
“Ouch. I guess I walked into that.” She laughed softly as Stefano walked over with a glass for me and some wine for Ash. She thanked him, but didn’t drink it.
“So is this the reason you’ve been missing?” Stefano asked, glancing toward Ash. “No offense, by the way. We were just messing around back there.”
“Don’t worry, I’m not offended,” Ash said. “Although you really shouldn’t let that young guy back there talk to you like that.”
Stefano laughed and gave me a look. I could tell he liked her already. “Tomaso’s okay,” Stefano said. “He’s full of shit, but he’s okay.”
“All right, Stefano,” I said, putting my elbows on the table. “I wanted you to meet Ash for a reason.”
Stefano’s smile slowly faded. “I heard some rumors,” he said. “About you and a girl.”
“Seems like the rumors have some truth,” Ash said, turning her wineglass around.
“So she’s staying with you for a while,” Stefano said, nodding to himself. “And her family’s loaded.”
I nodded and glanced at Ash, but she didn’t react to that. “Her last name’s Adamson. That mean anything to you?”
Stefano shook his head. He was a good lieutenant, but he worked mostly on the ground with the local pushers and dealers, and didn’t have much time for the wider politics of the city.
“They’re connected,” I said, staring at Ash. She looked into her wine like a man dying of thirst. “Sort of like oligarchs. You know what that word means, oligarchs?”
“Not really,” Stefano admitted.
“Means they’re rich and they have power,” I said. “Ash staying with me might cause some problems, so you need to spread the word through the ranks.”
Ash grimaced slightly, but kept staring at the wine, shaking it
slightly, watching it slosh in the cloudy glass.
“I can do that,” Stefano said. “We’ve already got problems from the Healy family. This going to be violent?”
“No,” Ash said quickly.
“I don’t know,” I said softly.
She stared at me, then clenched her jaw and looked away.
Stefano looked between us and sighed. “Well, shit,” he said. “I take it things are more complicated than I thought.”
“All you need to know is her family’s not happy that she’s with me, and they might cause trouble. Tell the guys to be on their guard.”
“I’ll pass along the word,” Stefano said, glanced at Ash, then leaned in closer to me. “But boss, what the hell are you thinking with this girl?”
I glared at him and felt a bit of anger flare. Sometimes Stefano was a little too familiar and crossed lines he never should go near. Ash was sitting right there, and he had no right to question me in front of her.
“Do your fucking job,” I said with a snarl.
He sucked in a breath and nodded. “Whatever you say.” He leaned back and watched me with hooded, careful eyes.
“I hope my family doesn’t do anything stupid,” Ash said, looking at her hands. “But they’re upset. I don’t know how far my father will go.”
“It’s okay,” I said and tapped the table. “What else is happening, Stefano?”
“I wasn’t sure if I should tell you this right now,” he said, and glanced over at Ash.
“Go ahead,” I said. “Say what’s on your mind.”
He cleared his throat. “Brett got jumped,” he said. “Some Healy thugs. He was slinging rock—uh, I mean, selling bootlegs—” Stefano stammered and stopped.
“It’s fine,” Ash said. “I know you sell drugs.”
“Right,” Stefano said, grinning sheepishly. “Anyway, he was slinging rocks, and a couple Healy guys rolled up on him.”
“Dead?” I asked, body tense.
Stefano shook his head. “Hurt bad, though. In the hospital. You should go check in on him.”
“I will tomorrow,” I said, glancing at my watch. It was already too late for visitors. I wish he’d told me sooner, but I hadn’t been paying close attention to the crew lately.
Fucking Healy family, jumping my people. At least they didn’t kill the guy. Brett was a good salesman, but he was just a corner boy, no more than twenty with barely any facial hair and a big smile.
I’d been distracted. It was a fuck-up and it was my fault. I had a war going on, and this shit with Ash was pulling too much of my attention. I should’ve known about Brett getting jumped way sooner.
“Other than that, we’re all good,” Stefano said.
“Why don’t you go join the boys for a minute,” I said, looking at my hands. “I’ll be over soon.”
“Yeah, okay, boss,” Stefano said. He hesitated, like he wanted to say more, but got up and walked back to the other table.
I got up and stalked outside. Ash followed me, keeping close behind. I paced around on the sidewalk, pissed as all hell, and Ash watched me with a nervous stare. She chewed on her fingernails and looked gorgeous in the headlights of passing cars. Fuck, she even distracted me when I was too mad to think straight.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
“I should’ve been there,” I said, stopping, arms spread. “I didn’t even know that one of my guys got hit. How the fuck can I run my crew if I don’t even know when they get attacked?”
She shook her head. “It’s my fault. All this stuff going on.”
“It’s not your fault.” I stopped and glared at her, seething with anger. I flashed back to that night in that empty lounge, her body under mine, panting and gasping. She was a small girl, so fucking beautiful and delicate, and I wanted to take her in my arms and break her. I wanted to make her shiver and gasp and moan and give me every single inch of her gorgeous pale skin.
I stepped toward her. She stared at me but didn’t move. I loomed over her and tilted her chin up toward me. She bit her dark red lips and stared into my eyes.
“Maybe you should just leave me alone,” she whispered. “I mean, if I’m going to be a distraction. I’ll stay in your house but you don’t have to babysit me.”
“I don’t want to leave you alone,” I said, head tilted. “Is that what you want?”
She bit her lip and didn’t answer. I wanted to kiss her so badly, slip my tongue between her teeth and slide a hand up that short skirt, up the length of her impossibly long legs, bend her backward and make her gasp as I teased her soaking spot. God, I was angry with myself, and with her, and with the whole situation.
A car rolled past. She blinked at me and didn’t pull away. She wanted this as much as I did.
“I should go back,” she whispered.
That broke the spell. I released her chin. “If you want to,” I said, shrugging.
“You should spend time with your guys,” she said, glancing back toward the bar.
“You don’t have to go.”
She put a hand on my chest and smiled. “I really should. Don’t worry, I’ll get an Uber.”
I wanted to make her stay. I wanted to show her off some more and announce to the whole damn bar that she was pregnant with my baby, but of course I couldn’t do that. As soon as word spread that she was knocked up then shit would get very difficult and very complicated.
I waited with her until the car showed up then she kissed my cheek and smiled. I wanted to say something to make her stay, but she got in the back and let it take her to my place.
I stayed at the bar, only because I felt guilty as hell about Brett, but the whole time I thought of her, thought of going home to her, thought of her legs in that skirt—and what I wanted from her, which was everything.
9
Ash
My father called early the next morning while Gian was still in bed. I yawned and stretched and stared at the coffee maker. Part of me thought I should ignore it.
But I couldn’t let it go to voicemail. “Hello? Dad?”
The strain in his voice made my spine go numb. “Hello, Ashleigh,” he said. “Are you doing well?”
That was my father, all formality and distance and slushy snow in his veins. “I’m fine,” I said. “Although I’m not sure you really care.”
“Of course I care,” he practically snarled, which didn’t do much to convince me. “I’d like to meet today, if you’re available.” He paused then added, “If your new baby daddy will allow you out.”
I pushed that stupid barb aside. “I can meet,” I said.
“There’s a coffee shop in Old City. It’s got outdoor seating. We can talk there.” He cleared his throat. “Meet me in one hour. Please come alone. I don’t want to see this man you’re staying with.”
“Okay, Dad,” I said, and wanted to add more, but he hung up already. I stared at the phone, then at the coffee machine, and didn’t hear Gian come into the kitchen.
“You okay?” he asked.
I looked over and nodded once. “He wants to meet and talk.”
“Is that a good idea?” He narrowed his eyes slightly.
“I think so,” I said. “I mean, I don’t know. I doubt he’ll do anything stupid.”
“You don’t know that,” he said. “People do desperate things all the time.”
“He just wants to talk.”
Gian shrugged and stepped past me and poured some coffee. “I’ll come with you,” he said. “And I’ll bring some guys.”
“He made me promise to come alone.”
Gian laughed. “Then I’ll stay out of sight.”
I opened my mouth to argue but I knew that was pointless. Gian had a stubborn look on his face, like things were already settled. I poured what was left of the coffee into my mug and sipped it while he walked back toward the steps. I stared at his naked back and the long line of his muscles disappearing into his gym shorts and I wondered how the hell I found myself in this situation, living with a mafia
guy.
I looked at the coffee and closed my eyes. I’d have to stop drinking it soon, or at least cut back a lot.
I wondered if my dad knew that when he suggested that we meet at a coffee place.
Probably not. He didn’t care about anything but himself.
It was a crisp morning. Gian parked a block away and killed the engine. “I’ll be nearby,” he said. “If your dad does anything, or tries to get you to go somewhere, you scream, okay?”
“I can’t scream,” I said, staring at him. “I’m not going to make a scene.”
He sighed and rubbed his face. “God damn, you rich girls. Just scream, okay, princess?”
I glared at him then got out of the truck and slammed the door. He could be such a dick sometimes, although I knew he meant well. I stormed down the sidewalk in flats, jeans, and a button-down shirt. It was formal enough that my father wouldn’t have any comments about it.
He was already sitting outside of the coffee place with a cup in front of himself and a cup in front of the chair across from him, presumably for me. He wore his usual dark suit and was staring at his phone, probably reading some business contract or something like that. I slowed as I approached and looked around, but he was totally alone.
“Dad,” I said once I was close.
He looked up and didn’t smile. He had lines around his eyes and his graying hair was cut short, nearly buzzed. He nodded at the chair across from him. “Sit down, Ashleigh,” he said.
I hesitated, not in the mood to take his orders, but sat anyway. I didn’t touch the cup as he watched me carefully.
“How are you?” I asked, tentative and uncertain about what this was about.
“Been better,” he said, cocking his head. “My daughter’s pregnant by some strange man.”
I looked away. “Right, yeah. I’m sure it’s really hard for you, Dad.”
“Don’t you understand how this looks for our family?” he asked. “Your mother’s going crazy with worry back home.”