Endings & Beginnings (New Mafia Trilogy #3)

by E. J. Fechenda

  “What about the shit you’ve been starting with Demetrius? You’re threatening his business.”

  Marcus hung his head and swore. “That wasn’t me neither. Some of my men decided to take it on themselves, thought it’d earn some favor with me. They’ve been dealt with. I don’t want any of the H business, man. I’m happy with pills and weed. That’s all the college kids seem to want.”

  Once again, I got the feeling he was being truthful. “Alright, I believe you.” I said and stood up. Joey and Leo followed suit. The dog huffed and relocated. “If you hear anything about what went down, I’d appreciate a heads up.”

  “No problem.” Marcus and I shook hands. “So we’re good?” he asked.

  “Yeah, we’re good except for your boy out there. He’s an asshole.”

  “I know. That’s my nephew and I’ll deal with him.”

  “Ah, family. I know all about that,” I said and Marcus laughed. This caused any remaining tension to disappear and we left without incident.

  With Marcus scratched off the list, our focus narrowed and my suspicions that someone from inside our circle was responsible grew.

  Chapter 34

  Natalie

  LOS ANGELES

  As the week came to a close my employment prospects remained unchanged. Callie had a friend in Laguna Beach who managed a bistro and they were hiring, but I’d be burning more gas there and back than I earned in tips. Chelsea was looking for me too, but she only knew film and fashion industry folks, I needed some sort of experience in those industries to even qualify as an intern. So I showed up for my shift at Dirty determined to make as much money as possible. I even wore a shorter pair of shorts than normal hoping the extra leg on display earned me more tips.

  I arrived early to help set up and Collin glared at me from the moment I stepped inside the dimly lit bar. At first I tried to ignore him, but after doors opened and we had a full house, I suspected he deliberately took longer to fill my drink orders than the other servers. When a customer told me I gave them a rum and coke, not a jack and coke, I snapped because I knew that error was on Collin. The man was cutting into my paycheck and needed to stop.

  Charging through the crowd, I worked my way up to the bar and lifted the section of counter top that provided access to behind the bar. Slamming my tray down caused Collin to jerk and he looked over at me in surprise. I had him cornered by the row of beer taps where he was pouring a Guinness.

  “What are you doing back here?” he asked, shouting over the music from the live band.

  “Telling you to knock the shit off! I know you’re pissed at me over Jason, but I need the money so whatever personal issue you have with me, don’t let it interfere with my job.” I shouted back, standing in front of him with my hands on my hips.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Natalie.”

  “Really? So you’re saying you don’t have a problem with me?”

  Collin smirked and turned back to pouring the beer. Raine, one of the other bartenders, kept glancing over at us, but she was too busy making drinks to interfere.

  “Collin, Jason and I broke up. That’s our business, not yours.”

  “You fucked with my bro, so of course I’m pissed, but I’m mature enough to not take it out on you at work. Sounds like you’re paranoid.”

  I stood there with my mouth gaping open. Gone was the cute surfer guy who flirted with me relentlessly just to get a rise out of Jason.

  “Natalie, back to work, table 12 just asked me about their drinks,” Callie said, coming up behind me.

  “Sure, sorry.” I picked up my tray and left Collin behind. I waited for Raine to replace the screwed up drink order before disappearing into the crowd that clung to the edges of the bar like clusters of barnacles on a ship’s hull.

  At the end of the night I was able to clear $400 in tips, which wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t enough. I needed to get some more income coming in and fast. It would have been so easy to just call up Grant and ask him for a loan like I used to do, but he had already floated me rent and he was newly married with a baby on the way. It was time I figured it out on my own and I’d been doing fine before the extended visit in Philadelphia.

  After buying groceries, filling up the tank in my car and paying my electric bill, I was broke again. The following week I hit the pavement looking for another job and was getting desperate enough to consider working retail.

  It was Wednesday evening when I checked my email and had a second interview request for a department head position with Macy’s. Instead of being excited, I wanted to cry. When did job hunting become so difficult that even second interviews were required for non-management retail jobs? A knock on the door interrupted my pity party.

  I looked through the peephole and smiled at the familiar face. I opened the door and Chelsea shoved a pizza box at me. “I hope you’re hungry and I hope you don’t have plans,” she said and pulled out a bottle of red wine from the large hand bag dangling on her arm.

  “No, in fact I had a date with Orange is the New Black on Netflix and a bowl of ramen.”

  Chelsea glanced around the apartment, pausing at a pair of dirty socks on the floor by my running sneakers and again at the pile of mail on the coffee table. For me, this was organized, but for Chelsea’s OCD the clutter was probably going to give her a facial tic. She didn’t say anything about the condition of my apartment and went to grab plates out of the cabinet next to the kitchen sink while I dug around the “catch-all” drawer for a wine bottle opener.

  “Good because we need to catch up.” I nodded in agreement. We had only texted since I got back to L.A. with the exception of a few voicemails and one really brief conversation. I opened the bottle of wine and poured two glasses and brought them over to the coffee table. After setting them down, I gathered up the pile of mail and unceremoniously dropped it in the corner of the room. Chelsea shook her head at my housekeeping when she set the plates piled with pizza down and sat next to me on the futon.

  “What? I’ll sort through it tomorrow.”

  “And clean the dishes in the sink?”

  “Yes, mom,” I said in a patronizing tone and Chelsea flipped me off then we both collapsed into a giggle fit. We started to calm down until Chelsea snorted and we started laughing all over again. Finally, after a few minutes, we stopped.

  “God, I missed you,” I told her and raised my glass, touching it to hers, “To best friends!” I toasted and we each took a sip of wine.

  “So, how goes the job search?” she asked. I groaned and took a bite of pizza. “No luck then, huh?”

  “Nope and I’m getting to the point where I can’t be picky. Macy’s wants to schedule a second interview.”

  Chelsea’s nose scrunched up and she shuddered. “Remember when I worked at Target in high school and how I hated the holidays? Avoid retail if you can.”

  “I might not have a choice.”

  “What about Grant or even Dom? I’m sure they’d help you out.”

  “Grant’s already helped me out so much.”

  Chelsea set her plate down and turned to look at me, sitting with her left leg tucked underneath her body. “…and Dom?”

  “No,” I snapped and gulped down half my glass of wine.

  She narrowed her eyes at me. “Why? The guy’s loaded and bought you a freaking art gallery, which we’re going to circle back to, by the way. He’d help you in a heartbeat.”

  I tried to ignore her, but Chelsea isn’t one to be ignored. I knew she meant business when she removed the wine glass from my hand and set it out of reach. “Alright, obviously something happened. Spill.”

  “Fine,” I huffed. “I won’t ask Dom because he doesn’t want to be part of my life anymore. He sent me away…basically I’m broken and he’s taking the blame.”

  Chelsea was one of the few people who knew all the shit I went through after Dom and I got together. At the time, Chelsea thought Dom was taking over my life, but in reality, I was trying to protect Chelsea f
rom knowing the truth about my situation. I didn’t want her on Uncle Marco’s radar at all. Unfortunately this led to us having a huge falling out. When I arrived in Los Angeles seeking refuge with her, that’s when I told her about the mafia, about Dom and Grant, and why I was healing from a bullet wound.

  “That doesn’t make sense. Why would he try so hard to get you to stay only to send you away?”

  So I told her about the kiss and how the smoke triggered a panic attack. “I really tried to fight it. I knew it wasn’t Mr. Genovese mauling me, but I still freaked out.” I paused and took a deep breath. Chelsea handed me back my wine glass and I took a sip. “The next morning, Dom said he realized that it’s his fault, that he ruined me and said it was best for me if he let me go.”

  “Love doesn’t work that way.” Her comment made me look over at her and saw her engagement ring sparkling on her left hand as she brought her wine glass to her lips. Chelsea’s blonde hair was loose and hung past her shoulders. Her skin seemed to glow, her tan having gotten darker since I last saw her and it was offset by the loose white silk tank top she wore. She relaxed, leaning against the back of the futon and since she was still facing me, her shoulder dipped into the dark green cushion. Her eyes locked onto mine. “Since you’re here and not in Philly, I’m going to assume that you didn’t fight him on it and ran away.”

  “Why would I when he’s right? I was the one that needed out- wanted to be somewhere safe. He’s giving me what I wanted.”

  “I call bullshit,” she said with a smirk, reaching for another slice of pizza.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Nat, I’ve been your best friend since elementary school. We’re practically sisters, right?”

  I nodded and picked at the crust left on my plate, tearing it up into little pieces.

  “I’ve told you this before, but you run away when things get intense or painful. It’s a pattern and I see how you are around Dominic, he’s the one man that has the power to devastate you. Deny it all you want, Nat, but I know you love him and that hold he has on your heart scares the shit out of you.”

  My mouth opened and I was ready to dispute, but my jaw snapped shut with an audible click of teeth because as much as I hated to admit it, Chelsea was right. Sometimes she knew me better than myself.

  “Resistance is futile,” she said in a deep voice as she attempted to sound sinister.

  “Alright goofball,” I said with a laugh. “You’re right. I love Dom, but his world is too dangerous.”

  “The world in general is dangerous. Shit, the mall shooting is proof of that.” Chelsea paused to take a bite of her pizza. After quickly chewing and swallowing, she continued. “Ordinarily I wouldn’t encourage you to pursue a relationship with Dom because of you know...the mafia and all that illegal shit, but what if he is your soul mate? I’d hate for you miss out on that and seeing your niece or nephew grow up. Life is too short as it is and a life full of regrets even shorter.”

  “Damn girl, that’s deep.”

  She smiled at me and refilled our wine glasses. “One of my mom’s favorite sayings and I’m going to delve even deeper here.”

  Oh God, I thought and braced myself with a large gulp of wine. The cheap red burned its way down my throat and hit my stomach like lava. “I think Dom pushed you away before you can reject him again, but you’ll probably never get him to admit it. He is a guy after all.”

  “Huh, I never thought it about that way.” So Dom was doing more than trying to protect me, he was trying to protect himself. “Interesting perspective, Miss Reed,” I said.

  “Not for much longer. Soon I’ll be Mrs. Stevenson.” Her face lit up with a brilliant smile and she stared dreamily off into the distance.

  This was the perfect opportunity to divert attention away from my love life and focus on Chelsea’s. “Fill me in on everything,” I said. “Did you and Derek pick a venue? How is your dress coming along? I want details!”

  “Yay!” Chelsea bounced up and down in her seat and clapped. Leaning over, she grabbed her iPad out of her bag. I took another sip of wine while she pulled up her designs. Since Chelsea worked in the costume department at Warner Brothers, she didn’t have a lot of spare time to work on her own designs. The day after Derek proposed Chelsea was already in designer mode thinking about her dress and the rest of the bridal party including the gowns her mom and future mother-in-law were going to wear. It wasn’t an easy undertaking and between her day job, looking at venues, picking out a caterer and deciding on flowers, Chelsea didn’t have a lot of time. A night like this one where we could catch up on each other’s lives was rare and I was enjoying every moment with my best friend.

  Chelsea pulled up the design for her wedding dress and my eyes started to well with tears. “Oh Chels, you’re going to rock that.” She had taken a vintage 1920’s look of formfitting satin and a low cut back, but modified it with an ivory lace overlay. It was very simple and elegant. The train wasn’t long, just an extension of the gown that would pool around her feet.

  “Yeah, I’m pleased with it and have the fabric ordered. I have a year to make it and I’m on schedule with my timeline.” She pulled up another document that had dates and bullet items mapped out. I couldn’t help but laugh and shake my head. “What?” she asked.

  “Your OCD is showing,” I teased and she flipped me off, making me laugh even harder.

  We spent the rest of the night talking wedding stuff and catching up on life. When I told Chelsea that Jillian hooked up with Victor she practically snorted ice water out of her nose.

  “No way! When did this happen?” I filled her in on the night at Crimson and updated her on Danny’s clean-cut accountant boyfriend. We reminisced about college, glossing over the time of our falling out. It was a good night and when Chelsea left to go home, we both promised to make more time for our friendship.

  I locked the door and cleaned up the kitchen before going to get ready for bed. I forgot about the laundry basket of clothes on my bed so I quickly started to put them away. When I went to hang up a sundress in the closet, I spotted my gun safe on the top shelf, tucked underneath a stack of sweaters. I debating getting it down and keeping it by my bedside just in case, but realized I wasn’t afraid and didn’t feel threatened. Nights like this were becoming more common and this made me smile. Maybe I was finally moving forward.

  Chapter 35

  The next morning I woke up early and went for a five mile run. By the time I returned back to my apartment complex, the smog cover that hovered over the valley had begun to thin out and the sun beat down on my shoulders. Sweat poured off my body as I stretched and did a quick cool down underneath one of the few trees that lined the half empty parking lot. During my run I had given myself a pep talk. I needed to find another job to get some income coming in. I was 22 years old with a college degree and a good work ethic. I was employable, damn it.

  After a shower where I spent extra time exfoliating and shaving, I emerged feeling better about myself. In my bedroom, I paused in front of the floor length mirror that was on my closet door. Pulling the towel away, I tossed it onto the bed and took in my reflection. I’d always had a love hate relationship with my body. Years of criticism from my mom had taken a toll and I never felt one hundred percent comfortable in my skin. Her remarks had inspired my love for running and I guess that was the one positive because the woman staring back at me had a nice athletic figure: toned, strong legs and defined abs. My breasts were on the small side, but they were almost symmetrical and perky. I turned to look at my backside, pleased with how my calf muscles flexed with the movement and that I didn’t have a trace of cellulite anywhere. Cellulite was the bane of Jillian’s existence as well as some of my other friends and an affliction that I had fortunately avoided so far. Lifting my wet hair up, I noticed the scar above my shoulder blade. This was where the bullet made its exit and aside from a couple of light brown moles, was the only imperfection on my back. Long gone was the broken girl who tried to
drink her assault away and lost close to twenty pounds in the process.

  Closing the closet door ended my self-speculation and I quickly got dressed. Armed with a store brand diet soda, a slice of leftover pizza and my laptop, I took up residence on the futon and resumed my job search.

  By the end of the day I had tweaked my resume and applied for three potential “real jobs” plus two waitressing gigs. Even those bars wanted a resume. I made some follow up calls for other jobs I’d applied for, but still didn’t have any real leads, which left me discouraged. My earlier ego boost deflated like a balloon.

  That was how the rest of my week went. I had an interview at a bar, but the manager spoke to my tits and not my face, so even though I was offered the job, I knew better than to accept. I got called in to work Friday night at Dirty and was psyched to know I’d have a free meal and an extra night of tips. My BMW was running on fumes and I was a block away from Dirty when a cop pulled in behind me. The scream of sirens and flashing lights had me pull over. My stomach lurched when the cop didn’t drive past, but followed me to the side of the road.

  “License, registration and proof of insurance,” the officer said when he approached.

  “Um, sure.” I leaned over to the glove box with the sinking feeling in my stomach increasing because I realized, right at that moment, that my registration had expired in May and was a month overdue. With everything going on in Philly, I’d completely forgotten, not that I had the money to renew anyway. Shit, fuck! I screamed at myself and handed the documents over with a trembling hand.

  “Do you know why I pulled you over?” he asked.

  I looked up at the older officer, hoping to get a read on him, but his sunglasses shielded his eyes. Based on the firm set of his jaw he didn’t appear to be easily amused. I figured I might as well be honest with him to see if that won me any points.