Endings & Beginnings (New Mafia Trilogy #3)

by E. J. Fechenda

  “Uh, um groom. I’m Grant’s sister.” This time I saw surprise register on his face, replacing the smirk.

  “What’s your name, Grant’s sister?”

  “Natalie and you are?” I asked, annoyed by his cockiness.

  “Egan Malloy.” He held his hand out and I went to shake it. His skin was rough and dry and fit with his personality. Egan lacked the polish that Dominic, Dante and Grant had. He wore a nice suit, but he didn’t look comfortable in it. With his unshaven jaw and long hair that hung in his face and covered the collar of his jacket, it was like he worked a blue collar job all day and changed into the suit after his shift was up.

  “So, Egan, are you a friend of the bride or groom?”

  “Not a friend. I do business with your brother.”

  “Right…”business”,” I said and used my fingers to make quotation marks. Egan snorted and then let out a deep laugh. “Do you know what’s going on over there? They’re looking entirely too serious for a wedding.” I pointed at the table where Dom was still having an intense discussion.

  Egan turned in the direction I was pointing and that’s when I saw a fading bruise around his eye. “Yeah, I know what’s up.” He didn’t say anything more, just took a sip of what little alcohol remained in his glass. The ice clinked forward when he tipped the glass back, draining the last.

  “So, Natalie, how come I haven’t seen you around?” His eyes, partially shrouded by his messy brown hair, scanned my body again, lingering on my legs.

  “I used to live in Philly, but moved to L.A.”

  “L.A., huh? So you’re not here for long.” Egan licked his lips and as a server breezed past with a tray in her hands, he set his glass on it. He held his hand out to me again. “I’ve seen you watching the dance floor, come dance with me.” It came out as more of a demand than an invitation.

  Egan didn’t strike me as a guy who was aching to bust a move. Play a game of darts or beer pong, maybe. I shrugged and placed my hand in his. Nobody else was asking me and hell yeah, I wanted to dance.

  Chapter 10

  DOMINIC

  Ji and Chan were bickering like two old ladies with Demetrius egging them on. Was I dealing with gangsters or the fucking Golden Girls? Dante and I exchanged a look across the table.

  “Guys, relax. We need to have a separate meeting to discuss this as Miranda and Grant need to be filled in on the distribution issues. It’s awesome the demand is so great and yes, we can get more product. K&A might need more too.” The K&A Gang had the corner on the Northeast market. Their leader, Egan, was conspicuously absent so I turned around in my chair to survey the ballroom, looking for him. I almost fell out of my chair when I saw him dancing with Natalie. Oh hell no.

  Without a word, I got up and left the table. Dante could handle setting up the meeting. As I was crossing the room, I caught Grant’s eye and gestured toward the dance floor. I noticed his jaw tighten when he saw his sister, but Nona was talking to him and Miranda so he couldn’t break away. I had punched Egan before and wouldn’t mind kicking his teeth in this time, especially when his hand drifted dangerously close to Natalie’s ass. Of course one of the men out of the few I couldn’t warn away from Natalie was the one dancing with her. Everyone in my family understood she was off-limits.

  I was less than ten feet away from the dance floor when my dad intercepted me.

  “Slow your roll, son,” he said. “I can tell you’re about ready to get real stupid over Natalie. Is it worth it? You’d be jeopardizing the business relationship you have with Egan’s gang and everything you’ve established will go to shit fast. Think about it.” I was listening to my dad, but kept my eyes on Natalie. “Trust me, Dom; you don’t want to make a scene here either. It’s a wedding for Christ’s sake.”

  I let my dad’s words sink in. This was one of those moments where I did listen to him. Taking a few deep breaths to calm down, I didn’t realize my hands were clenched into fists until I started to relax. “You’re right, Dad. That could’ve been bad,” I said with a deep exhale and ran a hand through my hair.

  “If you don’t want anyone dancing with Natalie, then you need to go dance with her.” My dad clapped me on the shoulder before walking away.

  Fuck it, he was right, business could wait, Nat was only here for a few more days. With my temper in check, I pushed my way through couples dancing.

  “I can take it from here, Egan.”

  Natalie looked up at me and smiled. “I thought you were going to be talking business all night.”

  “No way, this is a wedding, not a meeting,” I said with a wink. Natalie stepped away from Egan and he didn’t look happy about it.

  “Are you with him?” he asked.

  “Yeah, she is,” I answered before she could respond. Slipping my arms around her waist, I pulled Natalie close and spun us away from the scowling Egan.

  “That was rude,” Natalie said, but she didn’t resist. Instead she wrapped her arms around my neck and moved with the sway of my body.

  “He’ll get over it.”

  I spent the rest of the night by Natalie’s side. After a few failed attempts to dance with her again, Egan finally gave up and found one of Miranda’s friends to hook up with. As the wedding ended, we split up, Natalie going with her mom in a town car back to their hotel. I piled into a limo with Dante, Joey D., Paulie, Anthony and Dante’s brother, Johnny. They tried to get me to go to a strip club, but I wasn’t feeling it and had the limo driver drop me off at home. I needed to get ready for the next day and my proposal for Natalie.

  Of course sleep didn’t come even though I was pretty drunk. Thoughts of how to approach Natalie and how she would respond kept me awake. As the sky began to lighten in the East, brightening my bedroom, I went to make some coffee. I’d have my answer in a few hours.

  Chapter 11

  Natalie

  After trying on a fifth outfit, I was tempted to call Chelsea and wake her up. She always knew what looked best on me and put together stellar ensembles. As I stared at the piles of clothes on my bed, I hated everything. Being hungover didn’t help with the decision making either. I just wanted to fall onto the bed and go back to sleep.

  It’s just Dom and it’s not a date, I reminded myself, pissed that I was allowing myself to get worked up. Out of desperation, I did the unthinkable.

  “Mom!” I called. “Can you help me?”

  She was in the doorway to my room within seconds. “What do you need?”

  “What does one wear to brunch?” I held up jeans in one hand and pale green sundress in the other.

  She smiled at me and entered my room, crossing over to the bed and looking at all of the options.

  “Definitely the dress, that’s a gorgeous color on you and wear this over it since it’s a little chilly outside.” She handed me a cropped denim jacket. Actually, paired together, it was a cute outfit.

  “Shoes?” I asked next, pulling out the suitcase Chelsea had packed completely dedicated to footwear. The red stilettos she had insisted I take were still tucked away unused.

  My mom’s eyebrows went up when she saw the selection to choose from. “Wow, I need to go shopping with you. These are adorable!” She pulled out beige suede slides that had a pattern cut out of the leather. These would offset the green nicely. Oh, and wear your hair down.”

  I had to hand it to her, she had a good eye. “Thanks, Mom!”

  “Any time. I like this girly stuff. It’s a shame we didn’t do this when you were growing up.”

  I could only imagine the horror show that would have been. Pre-therapy mom and her criticism would have had me curled up in a ball in the corner of the dressing room.

  She left my room and I finished getting ready, taking her advice by leaving my hair down. Minutes later I heard a knock on the front door to our suite. The sound of Dom’s voice when he was talking to my mom made my palms grow damp. I knew he wanted to talk about “us”, but the way he left things the other day by alluding to something serious had my
nerves on edge.

  Grabbing my bag, I walked out to meet him. He smiled when he saw me, flashing his dimples. Dom was casually dressed in dark jeans that hung low on his hips and a black t-shirt. Part of his tattoo trailed out from below the sleeve on his right arm. He hadn’t bothered to shave and a dark shadow of stubble covered his cheeks and chin. His eyes were slightly puffy, which made me wonder if he had a hangover too.

  “Ready to go?” he asked.

  “Yup,” I turned to my mom. “See you later and thanks for your help.”

  “No need to thank me. Now go, have fun. I’m going to relax, my body hurts from all of that dancing last night.”

  Dom and I walked side by side down the hallway in silence. He had a pensive expression on his face, making me think he was just as nervous as me, which did nothing to quell my nerves. Fortunately the ibuprofen and coffee were kicking in, reducing my hangover headache to a dull roar, so I wasn’t a total mess.

  It wasn’t until we were on the elevator that Dom broke the silence. “Are you hungry?”

  “Oh yeah, I want something greasy and bacon definitely needs to be involved.”

  Dom laughed at my answer. “Alright, I know just the place.” We walked out of the front of the hotel and I was surprised when we passed the valet desk and kept on going.

  “We’re walking?” I asked.

  “Yeah, it’s a beautiful day. Did you want to take the car?”

  “No, let’s walk. It’s just that you tend to drive everywhere.”

  “We’re only going a few blocks.”

  I was happy we were going on foot. It was a perfect Sunday morning in May and with a light breeze that filtered through bright green leaves on the trees. A lot of people were out and about checking out the museums and fountains on the parkway. We strolled down 17th Street at a leisurely pace, window shopping and chatting about random things. Dom walked on the outside, closest the street, but kept by my side; not quite touching, but occasionally brushing up against me.

  “Where are we going for brunch?” I asked.

  “It’s not a fancy place, but they definitely have bacon.”

  “That’s fine, I don’t need fancy you know that.”

  Dom smiled at me. “Yeah, I always liked that about you.” I shook my head and laughed because when we first started dating last year, Dom was always trying to impress me by taking me to upscale restaurants where I at first felt underdressed and overwhelmed. I got used to being on his arm and the respect he received, but he learned I was more content with him cooking dinner for me at home or eating a kitchen-side prepared meal at Franco’s.

  We walked a couple more blocks until we reached a small corner diner. Dom held the door open for me and I entered the unassuming restaurant. The aroma of coffee, bacon and fried potatoes hung in the slightly smoky air. A counter ran along the left side of the space and there were a few unoccupied stools. There were about ten booths total in the place, two up by the window and the remaining were along the right wall. One in the back corner near the restrooms was the only one available. Streaks of sudsy water indicated the tabletop had been recently wiped down and even the salt and pepper shakers, plus assortment of condiments were clean, absent the usual sticky fingerprints. Dom sat down across from me and stretched his legs out, forcing my feet apart slightly to accommodate. He smirked up at me letting me know he was deliberately in my space. The man was persistent, but I also think he knew every time he touched me, I wanted to jump him. Instead of getting lost in his green eyes, I focused on the menu.

  An older woman with short salt and pepper hair came over to take our drink orders. Her name was Irene, according to her name tag, not because she introduced herself. Dom ordered coffee and I ordered a diet coke and a glass of water. I resumed looking over the menu even though I already knew what I wanted. Dom nudged a foot against mine causing me to glance up.

  “Do you know what you want?” he asked.

  “You,” I wanted to say, but just nodded and folded the laminated menu closed, placing it on the edge of our table.

  Irene returned with our drinks and retrieved a small note pad from the pocket of her half-apron to write down our order. Dom ordered a ham and cheese omelet with a side of toast and hash browns. I ordered a turkey club, which had the requisite bacon, and a side of French fries. Grease was definitely called for this morning.

  When were about halfway through our meal, I took a sip of diet coke to wet my suddenly dry throat. “So, what did you want to talk to me about?” I asked Dom.

  Setting his fork down, he wiped his mouth with a paper napkin before answering my question with a question. “Do you still have an interest in teaching?”

  That was not what I thought he was going to say and it took me a few seconds to regroup. “Um, yeah, I still do, but haven’t really thought about it much. Why?”

  His leg bumped against mine a couple of times. One of Dom’s “tells” when he was nervous was that with the ball of his foot on the ground, he would bounce his leg. Dom placed a hand on his thigh to still his movement.

  “I spoke to the principal at my old elementary school and they’re hiring an art teacher. She’s willing to interview you before she posts the position.”

  “You did what?” Was I mad? Not really. Surprised? Definitely and not just because Dom went out of his way to set something like this up, but because the usual anxiety I experienced whenever I thought about moving back to Philadelphia didn’t take over. It was still a lot to process. “Wow. Thank you?”

  “Don’t thank me yet, you still have to interview. That’s all I could get.”

  “Dom, isn’t this rushing things? I know you want me to come back and for us to pick up where we left off, but that’s not going to happen. Besides, I like LA.”

  “Because of Jason?”

  “No,” I snapped.

  “Did he hurt you?”

  “No. We’re just too different and,” I paused. “I didn’t love him.”

  Any jealousy Dom was displaying disappeared with that admission and he gave me a knowing look.

  “Will you at least meet with her and see what she has to say? No pressure. If anything, it will be good interview practice.” He reached for my hand that was fidgeting with a wad of paper that used to be my napkin. “I know I fucked up and you got hurt. I promise to protect you. Things are different now with Marco gone.” His green eyes blazed and he laced his fingers with mine.

  Damn it, just looking at him and having his thumb lightly stroke the inside of my palm, made me weak.

  “Fine, I’ll meet with her,” I agreed.

  With a satisfied grin, Dom relaxed even further and his leg stopped jumping. Picking up his fork, he resumed eating while I pulled the bacon off of the remaining two sections of my towering club and ate them.

  We finished and Dom paid the bill, leaving a hefty tip, which caused our waitress to give us a genuine smile. Her brown eyes lit up when she wished us a good day. We stepped out onto a busy sidewalk and I slipped my sunglasses on. Dom led us up towards Rittenhouse Square, stopping in front of a recently remodeled building. I stared up at the towering structure, noting the for lease and sale signs.

  “More condominiums?” I asked.

  “Yeah and the first floor is all retail space. Wanna check it out?” Dom held up a set of keys and I raised my eyebrow at him. “This is a Grabano and Sons build,” he explained. I shrugged, not really caring where we went as long as I got to hang out with him. He unlocked a glass door and held it open for me. I stepped inside and my footsteps echoed in the empty, cavernous lobby area.

  “That’s where the concierge will be,” Dom said, pointing to a chest high counter situated between two sets of elevators. “Those elevators go up to the condos and down here,” he turned to the right and we walked down a hallway. The walls were still unfinished gray drywall and the white tile floor was covered in a layer of dust at least a half inch thick that held various impressions of treads, mainly from work boots. Dom unlocked a single glass door an
d held it open for me. I entered an empty retail space. The sunlight coming in from the windows didn’t reach this far back, but a light automatically came on. Looking at the wall panel to my right, I noticed it was activated by a motion sensor.

  “There’s an office here,”’ Dom opened a door on the left and then opened the one on the right, “this is the bathroom.” I followed him further into the space. There was a lot of natural light since it sat on the corner and looked out onto the intersection of Walnut and 18th Street.

  “This is nice. Do you know what’s going to go in here?”

  “I know the person who bought this space is hoping it will be an art gallery.”

  Yeah, I could see that. It was open enough and there was a lot of wall space on one side and along the back. With floor to ceiling windows, from the outside it would be like looking into a fishbowl. I wandered close to the street entrance and observed all of the foot traffic. This was an upscale residential building too, which meant insta-customers. “This would make a great gallery and it’s not too far from UA, it would be cool to get some students in here to help with installations.” A large pillar in the middle of the space would be an ideal backdrop to showcase a sculpture. “Do you know who bought it?” I wasn’t looking at Dom, but wandering around, picturing how I would set things up. When he didn’t answer, I glanced over my shoulder at him. He was leaning against the pillar, smiling at me.

  “I did,” he said.

  This made me stop mid-step and I spun around to face him. “You own this?”

  “Yeah, I uh,” he lowered his head and ran a hand through his hair, looking at me almost sheepishly. “I bought this for you.”

  I was honestly speechless. “When?” I finally managed to ask.

  “A few weeks ago, after I learned the wedding was moved up and you were coming.”

  When I impulse shopped it was for a pair of shoes, sunglasses or Ben & Jerry’s ice cream. Leave it to Dom to impulse buy a commercial space. I fingered the diamond pendant around my neck, the necklace he gave me at my college graduation. I shouldn’t have been surprised at this recent extravagant gesture, but I was because he wasn’t my boyfriend anymore.