by B. B. Hamel
It felt damn good to be out of that house.
I knew it was stupid. As I walked along, taking deep breaths of the fresh air, I knew I should just turn back and go inside. Dante wasn’t keeping me indoors for fun, and he wasn’t forcing me into it. He wanted me to stay hidden so that I could stay safe.
But that was easier said than done.
Even with my laptop and my Kindle, I was bored out of my mind. It wasn’t my house, and I couldn’t get comfortable, not with that strange man Gino lurking around all the time. He watched reality TV most of the day, and when he wasn’t staring at the Housewives of Whatever, he was talking on the phone in Italian to someone. I could never hear the other side of the conversation, but it couldn’t have been interesting, just based on the way Gino would grunt in to the receiver then jabber off long, monotone phrases.
I sighed and kept going, stretching my arms. His neighborhood was quiet, and I only passed a couple of older folks with white hair and windbreakers walking little white yappy dogs.
Cars rolled past on the old gray street, and the yellow painted lines looked chipped and frayed, like they could use a fresh coat.
The houses were all stone-fronted with peaked roofs and brick chimneys. Some were attached doubles, but most were large singles. Dante’s house was one of the singles, and I guessed that was on purpose. A lot of homes had steep yards with overgrown grass and weed-covered flower beds. Although the houses seemed nice, it looked like people didn’t put much stock in landscaping.
I turned down a couple more streets and walked through a new neighborhood. The houses were different, all attached, all stone, but they had the same steep yards with concrete stairs leading to their porches. I kept going until I found a major cross street and looked both ways, frowning at the cars that rolled past in either direction.
I knew I shouldn’t go far. I didn’t know Mt. Airy. I could easily get lost, and Gino would probably get in trouble if they had to come and find me. But then again, I was already gone, and I might as well make the best of it. So I turned right and walked on until I reached another major intersection and turned onto a road with gleaming steel trolley tracks running down the center.
Shops lined either side of the street and the shoulder was covered in old cobbles. There were coffee shops with handwritten signs in the windows, and green awnings in front of banks, and little antiques stores with junk piled near the door. More people walked past, a group of teenage kids in baggy jeans and carrying skateboards, more groups of white-haired boomers in casual clothes, and even a few young professionals, like one woman in a pants suit with a phone plastered to her skull.
I wandered for a while. I was hungry and wanted some coffee, but I had no money, so eventually I found a bench under a large shady oak tree and stretched my legs out to watch people go by.
I used to do that sometimes with my father. He’d bring me to a bench when I was little and sit me down. We’d watch people together, and sometimes he’d try to tell me their stories, like he could understand who they were based on their clothes and the way they walked. It was a funny skill and I liked his stories, but those afternoons were few and far between. Mostly, my father was drunk and high or missing entirely.
It was always the best when he disappeared for weeks on end. I’d have him in the back of my head, a worry nagging at my skull, but life would be simpler. I wouldn’t have to worry about him passing out in the living room, about him choking on his own vomit in bed. I was free to be a normal person for a little while at least, but he always came back, and always needed something.
This time though, he wasn’t ever coming back.
The thought should’ve made me sad. Instead, I felt a strange relief. Like that yoke around my neck was finally lifted. The anchor weighing me down was cut free. I could slip off that old, heavy, used, broken skin and become something new.
I couldn’t help but smile a little bit at the idea.
I was sad my father was dead. I was horrified that I had witnessed his death, even more horrified that I saw his body wrapped in plastic and shoved into the trunk of an SUV. But I knew, deep down on some primal gut level, that I was better off without him. That he would’ve traded my life for his own in a heartbeat if given the chance.
An hour or two passed, I wasn’t sure. I didn’t bother checking my phone. I sat on that bench and tried to act like I belonged there, like I had a future and a place to go instead of a huge hole and a question mark where my life should’ve been.
After a while, when my ass began to hurt from sitting on rough wooden slats, a familiar black SUV pulled up and parked in front of me. I sat there and waited patiently as the driver’s side door opened and shut.
Dante walked around the truck.
He wore a slim suit, white shirt, and no tie. He was muscular and fit, and the clothes covered him like a glove. His shoes were black and polished, though his hair was pushed back in a tousled wave, almost like he only had enough energy to put on nice clothes, but not enough to do anything else to his appearance. There was a thin covering of hair on his face, like he forgot to shave that morning. It made him look rugged and handsome, and I absently wondered how he’d look if he let it grow out more.
He sat down on the bench next to me and let out a sigh. He stretched his arms above his head then put one arm on the back of the bench, close to my shoulders.
“Nice day,” he remarked.
“Yeah.” I shifted uncomfortably. I wanted to get up and get some blood back in my behind, but I stayed put. “Look, I just—”
“You don’t have to explain,” he said, holding up a hand. He sighed and shut his eyes. “I get it. But poor Gino nearly shit himself.”
I frowned and looked away. “I didn’t think about that.”
“He thought you got kidnapped. He was running around looking for you. Called me in a panic.”
“Crap.” I sighed and looked at him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to freak him out.”
“Like I said, it’s fine. I get it. You can apologize to Gino if you want.”
I nodded once. “I will.”
“Good. Gino’s a good soldier, a good guy. Maybe not the brightest or the quickest, but he’s vicious and loyal. I like him a lot.”
“I can’t say I’ve gotten to know him very well.”
Dante snorted. “Did you even try?”
“No,” I admitted. “He feels too much like a jailor.”
“Yeah,” Dante said. “I got that.”
I sat there for a moment and studied his face. He was looking out down the street with a little frown on his lips. I curled my feet up against me and hugged my knees. “Look, I don’t know if I can stay cooped up in that house forever.”
He didn’t say anything for a long moment. I felt the silence wrap around me, heavy and oppressive. I wanted to break it and try to explain again, but I knew that wouldn’t be any use. He didn’t seem angry at all, even though I’m sure I pulled him from the city and from something important because of my little stunt. I felt stupid and selfish, and I knew I should’ve just told Gino I was going out for a walk and at least let him follow me around.
Instead, I screwed things up like an asshole.
“I still haven’t heard back from Vlas,” Dante said at last, almost as if we were picking up a conversation we’d left off just minutes before.
“Your Russian counterpart, right?”
“Right. I tried to reach out to him again, to check on the status of my little apology, but nothing. His men told mine to fuck off, and I haven’t heard a peep since.” He shook his head. “It’s disconcerting, Aida. Very disconcerting.”
“What can I do?” I asked and immediately felt stupid for saying it.
But he just looked at me. “Nothing,” he said. “I appreciate the offer, though.”
“I feel like this is somehow my fault. Like my father started this war, and I’m the one that should pay the price.”
He let out a sigh. “Truth is, I think your father was just a conveni
ent excuse. I should’ve seen it sooner, but I think Vlas has been looking for any reason to war with me for months now.”
“What makes you think that?” I asked.
“Little things. His guys slinging drugs on the edges of my territory, for example. A little bodega owner I had on the take flipped sides and began paying Vlas for protection instead. Rumors about night-time shipments of cargo, although nobody ever specified what that cargo was. Little things, but it all should’ve added up.”
“You’re a busy man,” I said. “You’re a Capo.”
He nodded. “All the more reason.”
“How did you become a Capo?” I asked, leaning toward him. I hugged my knees tighter then let them go. “You’re… young, right?”
He smiled and shrugged. “I made soldier at twenty. Worked for a man named Sergio, did whatever he needed and then some. I was loyal and I was smart. I found some new ways to make money, you know, some digital things. Things were good for a few years, but then…” He stopped and stared off into space for a second.
“Then?” I prodded, my heart beating fast.
“Sergio’s family was killed,” he said. “Not by the Russians. Some small-time Chinese crew that was pushing in through our territory. They aimed for him but missed and got his wife and daughter instead. Nice people, very nice people, didn’t deserve what they got. Sergio lost it, we went to war against the Chinese, a lot of people died. But in the end, I won a lot of good will with the boss for my role in that war, and when it was over and we were victorious, Sergio was allowed to retire. I was given his position and his territory.”
I stared at him for a long time. It was hard to picture him as this deadly, ruthless gangster, even though he murdered my father, even though I knew it was true. He was so handsome, and seemed so kind. And he wore an apron when he cooked pasta. I couldn’t see him winning a war, let alone fighting one.
“And now here you are, on the verge of another war,” I said.
He shrugged. “This is what happens in this business.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Stop apologizing, little Aida,” he said, looking at me.
“I’m—” I caught myself. “Right. I will.”
“Good.” He stood up and offered me his hand. “Come on. Come back to the house.”
I hesitated then took his hand. He helped me up, opened the passenger side door for me, then shut it once I was in. He went around, got in behind the wheel, and turned the SUV around. I watched him as he drove us a few minutes back to the house, and I wondered what kind of man could win a war with murderous gangsters and walk away with more power than before.
A man like Dante, as terrifying as that was.
He parked out front of his house. Gino sat on the front porch and perked up as soon as I stepped foot on the sidewalk. He came to the stairs and looked down at me, relief all over his face.
“Hi, Gino,” I said.
He waved and tilted his head. “You’re back.”
“I’m sorry I ran off. I just… I went for a walk. I should’ve told you. I’m sorry.”
He nodded once and smiled. “I’m just happy you’re here.”
Dante appeared behind me, a hand on my lower back. “Come on,” he said, steering me up the steps.
Gino went inside and we followed. Dante took me into the kitchen, sat me down, and began to make coffee.
“Here’s the deal,” he said. “I can’t keep you locked up in here forever, not if I can’t come visit all that often. Which right now, unfortunately, I can’t.” I said nothing, just watched him as he filled the filter up, poured in the water, and hit the power button. The machine gurgled to life and began to fill up. He turned to me and crossed his arms over his chest. “How would you like to come with me into the city? Not every day, but maybe three times a week, at least until this all blows over.”
I bit my lip and tilted my head. “Would that be safe?”
“Safest you could be,” he said with a grin. “You’d be with me.”
I stood up from my stool when the coffee finished and came around the island. I took down two mugs, one for me and one for him. I moved close to him as I poured my coffee, but he didn’t step out of the way. I turned to go back to my seat, leaving his mug on the counter, but he caught me by the wrist.
He pulled me against him. I staggered, nearly spilled the coffee, but he caught it before it could run over. He gently took it from my hand and put it down next to his empty mug, as his other hand moved up along my back again, into my hair.
I stared into his eyes as a little smile broke across his face.
“But I’ll warn you,” he said softly. “It won’t be entirely safe. There will be risks. You’d be better off hiding here in this house.”
“Or maybe running away on my own,” I whispered.
He laughed and tightened his grip in my hair. “Maybe. But I don’t think you’re going to do that. No, I don’t think you want to go anywhere.”
I stared at him and felt the anger that had been rolling through me since he killed my father, but it was dulled somehow, no longer that white-hot flame that threatened to consume me. Instead, a big part of that anger was replaced by something else.
It made my hands clammy, my back sweat. It made my heart beat faster as my eyes roamed across his muscular frame before they stopped on his lips, full and slightly parted, yet rough and masculine. I knew what it was that drove me to stay close to him, but I refused to name it, refused to make it real.
“What do you say?” he whispered. “I’ll show you the ropes. Introduce you to the boys. You’ll like it.”
I nodded once and his grip tightened in my hair again, pulling my chin up. I let out a little gasp as he moved closer, and I swear my heart almost stopped.
“Okay,” I managed to choke out.
“Good girl.” He lingered for a moment, a little smile on his lips before he kissed me.
I stayed in that kiss, my body flooded with desire, that desire I’d been trying to ignore. I leaned closer, pressed my body tighter, felt his powerful frame and knew I couldn’t pull away.
His taste was like leather and candy, both hard and soft. I pressed my hands against his hard chest and let out a soft moan as his tongue pressed against mine. I let him kiss me like that, let him take me, his fist hard in my hair, before I managed to wriggle myself free.
I stared at him and took a step back. A smile came to his lips as he tilted his head to the side.
“Don’t look surprised,” he said. “I told you what I wanted. I’m not going to lie to you, little Aida.”
“I just—”
He pushed himself off the counter. “Be ready tomorrow morning,” he said. “Bright and early. We’re going to help open the bakery.”
“Wait,” I said as he moved past me toward the hallway. “How early?”
“Five should be good,” he said. “Actually, make it four thirty.”
“Four… thirty?” I gagged. “That’s so early.”
“It’s a bakery. Or do you want to be here alone all day again? I could tell Gino to play cards with you, I bet that’d be fun.”
I glared at him and crossed my arms over my chest. “I’ll be ready,” I said.
“Good.” He looked at me for a moment longer before disappearing from the kitchen and down the hallway.
I collapsed back against the counter and touched my fingers to my lips. The hard granite on my back felt good, but not as good as his arms, his lips, his tongue.
Shit.
That man’s a killer. I knew it, couldn’t deny it. I saw it with my own eyes.
And yet I felt myself falling deeper into something I wasn’t sure I wanted to understand. He killed my father, but he also freed me from that same prison. He locked me up in this house, but he also gave me safety and protection.
I hated him. And I wanted him just as much.
I knew I’d be ready, bright and early.
5
Dante
I stood at the base of t
he steps, the front door still open, the morning still halfway night. The sun hadn’t risen yet, and the world remained still.
I barely slept the night before. Then again, I barely ever slept.
“Aida,” I called out. “Little Aida. Time to come down.”
She appeared at the top of the steps, her hair pulled back in a messy bun, her eyes puffy, a frown on her lips. She stomped down the steps in light black jeans and a button-down black top. She wore heavy brown boots and an annoyed look on her face. I loved it, she looked like she was ready for combat, except her soft body was built for better things than fighting.
“This is cruel,” she grunted. “This is just cruel.”
“Come on. You’re going to love it.”
“No. I don’t think I can love anything this early. What are we doing awake?”
I laughed and turned away. I stepped out into the morning and took a deep breath, grinning up at the stars. The sun would start rising soon enough, but for now, it was still the night.
She came out behind me and shut the door. “You’re a monster,” she grumbled.
“More than you even know,” I said and headed down the steps. I felt light and happy, which was strange. I expected to be afraid of this, to feel anxious for her safety. It was a bad idea to take her into the city, but I knew I couldn’t expect her to wait around in my house for much longer.
She ran away once. Oh, sure, she said she went for a walk just to stretch her legs, but she ran away even if she didn’t realize it. She got a taste of it, and she was going to do it again sooner or later. I couldn’t be sure she’d be safe the next time she decided to skip out on poor Gino, and if she was going to take stupid risks, at least I could be there with her to make sure she kept her head on her shoulders.
I helped her into the car, went around to the driver’s side, and pulled out. She leaned her head back on the headrest and closed her eyes. I smiled a little bit, but we had a twenty-minute drive to the Sergio’s, and I might as well let her get a little more sleep.