Endings & Beginnings: Book Three of The New Mafia Trilogy

by E. J. Fechenda

  Miranda started to doze off so I released her hand and stepped to the opening in the curtain. She jerked awake. “I need to call Dante and let him know what happened. I’ll see if I can an update on Grant,” I told her.

  “Okay, thanks Nat.” Miranda’s eyes drifted closed again. She kept one hand resting on her abdomen and looked so small, like a child buried underneath a mountain of blankets the staff had piled up on top of her.

  Stepping out into the waiting area, I pulled my phone out of my purse and scrolled through my contacts, finding Dante’s number. I hoped it was still active and not a number for one of the many burner phones he and the family used. After the fourth ring I was beginning to fear that I wouldn’t be able to reach him. Finally Dante answered and there was a lot of noise in the background. People were yelling mixed in with metal clanging.

  “Natalie?” he asked and while I could barely hear him over the noise, I heard the surprise in his tone. I don’t think I ever called Dante before, but Grant had wanted me to have his number just in case. Well, this definitely qualified as one of those “just in case” moments and I think he knew that because he immediately asked, “what’s wrong.” So I told him, relieved to be able to share the burden with someone. “Are you fucking serious?”

  “I wouldn’t joke about this. Dom told me to call you. He said you’d know what to do.”

  “Right. Fuck. Okay, which hospital are you at and where are they holding Dom?”

  “South Jersey Medical Center and I have no idea about Dom. The local police arrested him.”

  “Alright. Hang tight, Nat, someone will be there soon.”

  After hanging up with Dante, I walked over to the registration desk. A woman looked up at me from behind a wall of Plexiglas. Sliding open a small window, she asked what I needed.

  “Is there an update on my brother, Grant Ross? He was taken into surgery over an hour ago.”

  “Hold on, let me see what I can found out. We’re busy today,” she said pointedly, like I had the audacity to ask for information, and snapped the window closed. I leaned against the wall and stared out at the waiting area. Not an empty seat could be seen and people were sitting on the floor. The majority had their eyes glued to a flat screen TV and the special news report on the shooting. I didn’t care to watch since I’d lived through it, but then they showed Dominic being walked into the police building. He was still handcuffed and had an officer on either side. Dominic didn’t keep his head down like most do under the same situation. Instead he met the media’s scrutiny with a nod and expressionless face. I moved closer to the television and a woman yelled at me. Glaring at her, I stepped out of her way.

  Another woman approached me. At first I thought she worked at the hospital because she was older, with graying hair and was wearing scrubs, but then I noticed her sneakers were covered with bloodstains. “You were at the mall,” she said, pointing at the television screen where the footage of Dom was being replayed, “with him.”

  “Yes, that’s right. Were you there too?”

  The woman nodded and swallowed, her eyes filling with tears. Holding out a trembling hand she introduced herself, “I’m Meg Chamberlain. That man saved my husband. The shooter had his gun aimed at Jim’s head.” I held onto Meg’s hand and then pulled her in for a hug. She broke down crying and I held her, rubbing her back in soothing circles.

  “Excuse me, Miss?” I looked over Meg’s shoulder and saw the woman from the reception desk. “Your brother is still in surgery. That’s all I know.”

  “Thank you,” I said. Meg straightened up and stepped away, wiping at her tears. Her eyes were red and swollen.

  “I’m sorry; you have your own burdens.”

  “It’s okay. Your husband, is he alright?”

  “Yes, he was shot once, but it went right through his shoulder. A few stitches and maybe some physical therapy is all he needs.” I nodded; personally familiar with that type of injury. The nerve endings in my scar tingled as if in sympathy.

  “Good, I wish you both the best.”

  “What about you dear? Why did they arrest that man when he killed the shooter?”

  “That’s Dominic and I don’t know. My brother was shot and almost died on the way here and his wife went into premature labor or something. Everything is so screwed up right now.” I blinked back the tears, refusing to give into them again. It was time to remain strong. Grant needed me for once and it was time I repaid him for all of the times he was there for me.

  Meg squeezed my hand. “It will all work out, honey. I’ll vouch for Dominic. If he hadn’t shot that man, it would have been a lot worse. I’ll say a prayer for your brother and sister-in-law.”

  The waiting room grew quiet and the volume went up on the television as breaking news flashed across the screen. The camera focused on a male reporter who was standing in front of the mall, the crime scene tape moving in the wind behind him. Police officers were walking in and out of the glass doors that led to the food court.

  “The identity of the shooter has been confirmed. Eduardo Reyes was a former security guard here and had recently been let go. Details are still emerging, but we do know Reyes aspired to be a police officer and had been unable to pass their physical requirements. The other shooter, the man who ended Reyes’ shooting spree, Dominic Grabano of Philadelphia, is being held for discharging a firearm that turns out to be unregistered. He also does not have a concealed weapons permit. Stay tuned for continued updates.”

  I breathed a sigh of relief knowing that the actual shooting had nothing to do with the mob. Reyes had acted on his own volition and we just happened to be there at the wrong time. Actually, if I thought about it from Meg Chamberlin’s perspective, we were there at the right time.

  Pushing off of the wall, I went over to the automatic doors that led to the Emergency Room. Someone buzzed me in and the doors opened. I made my way back to Miranda only to find she was asleep. Her mouth hung open slightly and any worry lines seen earlier had been erased in her relaxed state. Sitting in the one chair, I pulled my phone out and debated calling my mom, but decided to wait until Grant was out of surgery.

  A commotion outside of the ER doors carried down the hallway and I heard a swoosh as the doors opened, causing the noise to grow louder. Hurried footsteps, amplified by the click clack of heels on the linoleum were headed in my direction.

  “Where is she, where’s my daughter?” I recognized that voice and peered through the curtain to see Miranda’s mom rushing down the hallway with Uncle Al right behind her.

  “Paulina, in here,” I said in a loud whisper although she probably already woke up half of the patients, Miranda included. Pulling the curtain aside, I made room for Paulina, who dramatically knelt down at her daughter’s bedside; tearfully fussing and cooing.

  “Natalie, can I talk to you?” Uncle Al asked, jerking his head to the side, gesturing for me to leave with him. We walked down the corridor until we were in an unoccupied area. “Tell me what happened.” So I told him everything, managing to hold it together even when I explained how Grant had coded twice.

  “I met a woman in the waiting area who is willing to vouch for Dominic. He saved her husband’s life.”

  Uncle Al didn’t say anything at first, just pulled me into a hug. He smelled like spicy cologne and a faint trace of cigar smoke. Burrowing my face into his shirt, I drew comfort from his presence, just like when I lost my shit after learning Grant was an enforcer by witnessing the aftermath of three men being murdered.

  “Grant is tough and will pull through,” Al said when he released me. “Dante and Rico are at the police station with our attorney. Hopefully they can get Dom released tonight. Thanks for keeping things together.”

  “The shooter acted alone, right? This has nothing to do with…you know, the family?”

  “Right, just some fucking psycho decided to shoot up the mall. The world’s going to hell, if you ask me. Seems like these shootings are all you ever hear about anymore.”

  It
was true. There had been a string of them all over the country lately. Just as the media coverage died down from one, another happened. I was beginning to realize that violence can’t be avoided. It was everywhere and a part of society.

  “Did you call your mom yet and let her know what happened?” Al asked.

  “No, I’ve been waiting until I talk to a doctor.”

  “Call her, I sent someone to pick her up. Franco should be at her house in less than two hours. She needs to be here and will be too upset to drive once she finds out about Grant.”

  “Wait, Franco as in Franco’s Restaurant?” I didn’t think Franco and Gloria ever left their restaurant.

  “Yeah, you’re family now Nat, this is what we do.”

  “Okay,” I pulled my cell phone out of and called my mom. Al stayed by my side and I appreciated his support. Her cell phone went straight to voicemail. Since it was late afternoon during a week day, I called her office. The operator patched me through to her extension.

  “Anna Ross, how may I help you?” she answered.

  “Mom, its Natalie.”

  “Natalie? Is everything okay?

  “Have you heard about the shooting at that mall in New Jersey?”

  “Yes, we were just talking about it here. How awful! Why?”

  I took a steadying breath and gripped my phone tight. “Grant was there, Mom, and he’s been shot.” Al placed a hand on my shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

  “What?”

  “We were all there and Grant was protecting Miranda. He’s in surgery now.”

  “I’m on my way. Where are you?” I heard a desk drawer slam shut and paper shuffling.

  “Mom, wait, Uncle Al sent someone to drive you here.”

  She started to argue and Al must have heard her because he plucked the phone away from my ear and took over. He paced the length of the hallway and winked when he returned, handing the phone back to me. “I got her to agree she’s in no condition to drive and she agreed to let Franco bring her here.”

  “Thank you.”

  “One mother handled, let’s go see if Miranda needs rescuing from hers.” Al placed his hand on the small of my back as we walked back to her bay. A doctor was in there talking to her and Paulina. She was young and looked barely old enough to be out of med school. Her blonde hair was pulled back in a ponytail and she wore the requisite white lab coat.

  “A few days of rest should do the trick and drink plenty of water as staying hydrated helps. You’ve been through a traumatic event and it’s important to stay calm for the baby’s sake. I can refer you to someone for counseling?”

  “That won’t be necessary, thank you Dr. Wilson.”

  “You’re welcome Miranda and I’ll see if I can get an update on your husband.” Dr. Wilson acknowledged all of us before leaving.

  “Is everything okay with the baby?” I asked and Miranda smiled, but her eyes were still haunted with worry. She wasn’t there in the ambulance when his heart stopped and I sure as hell wasn’t going to tell her about it now.

  “They’re not admitting me. Apparently the stress triggered some Braxton Hicks contractions and I’m experiencing pain from my ligaments stretching. I just need to take it easy.”

  “Well that’s a relief!” I smiled down at her and squeezed her hand. I went to pull away, but Miranda wouldn’t let me go.

  “Please stay, Nat,” she said and one of the toughest women I knew started to cry again. Paulina took up residence on the other side of the hospital bed and smoothed her daughter’s hair. Al excused himself to make some phone calls and I stayed there, holding Miranda’s hand until her tears tapered off and she fell asleep. I tucked the coarse blanket up around her chin, careful not to bump her IV drip of saline.

  “The shock and stress is making her shut down,” Paulina whispered.

  “Sleep is what’s best for her and the baby right now.”

  “Yes, it is. How are you holding up?” Paulina asked. She looked over at me, her eye make-up, which she always wore a lot of, was smudged and the tear stains on her cheeks were tinted with mascara. Not quite Halloween mask, but close.

  “I’m trying to keep it together. It’s the not knowing that’s driving me crazy. I hope Grant is okay.”

  “Me too, honey. He’s a fighter though and has a lot to live for. Does your mom know?”

  I nodded, “She’s on her way.”

  It was an excruciating wait and we sat in silence until Al came to get Paulina. “A bunch of the family just showed up. Do you want to see them?”

  “Not just yet, I don’t want to leave Miranda.”

  I needed to go to the bathroom and take a break. What I really wanted to do was run and unload my mind. It was when I was washing my hands that I noticed the blood caked around my nails and in the creases of my knuckles. The front of my shirt was covered and specks dotted my neck. It had dried to a rusty brown. Scrubbing with paper towels and antibacterial soap, I managed to clean up most of it, except for my shirt.

  Stepping out of the bathroom, I made my way to the waiting room. I heard Miranda’s family before the emergency room door even opened and when they did, I knew why they were so loud. At least thirty family members spilled out of the waiting area: uncles, aunts, cousins and even Joey D. was there with his sister Cici.

  “Natalie!” The family moved forward in a swarm, crowding around me.

  “Oh honey, I came as soon as I heard,” Aunt Gloria said and pulled me into her arms for a hug.

  Questions were being fired at me about what happened and I felt like I repeated the story five hundred times. I glanced over at the television on the wall, hoping to catch an update on Dominic, but the news had started its usual over-analysis bouncing between debates on gun reform to the string of shootings plaguing our country then an image of Marco flashed up on the screen, making me flinch. It didn’t take long for the news to pick up on the organized crime angle.

  Then a nurse was talking to a doctor and pointing in my direction. The doctor started walking towards me, looking all serious and professional, and everything around me slowed.

  “Are you Natalie Ross?” he asked.

  “Yes,” I replied; my voice not much louder than a whisper. The doctor looked at the crowd gathering around me, like he was the ref and I was the coach questioning a call with my entire team at my back. “It’s okay, they’re family. Do you have an update on my brother?”

  “I do. I’m Dr. Hyashi.” He held out his hand and I shook it. He had a firm grip and his skin was warm and dry. “He’s out of surgery and in the CCU.”

  “CCU?”

  “The Critical Care Unit as he’s still in critical condition.”

  I gasped and held a hand over my heart that was beating hard against my chest. “What does that mean?”

  “Your brother was shot three times and one of the bullets was lodged next to his spine. One other nicked an artery near his heart and he had massive internal bleeding so we had to put him in a medically induced coma.”

  At this point my knees became spongy and Al put a reassuring arm around my waist, helping me to stay on my feet. “A coma? That can’t be good.”

  “It’s actually to protect him. We had a thoracic surgeon remove the bullet from his back, but there’s a lot of swelling around the T7 and T8 vertebrae. I stitched the damage to his artery, but the sutures are delicate. The less he moves around, the faster his body can heal. Also, he suffered another cardiac arrest on the table and it took almost three minutes to resuscitate him. I won’t know if suffered any permanent damage, especially since that was the third time he coded today.”

  I took a deep breath, processing the severity of Grant’s condition. “Is he going to be okay?”

  “I can’t make any guarantees, but if he hasn’t suffered any focal damage and we stay the course with his treatment, your brother could make a full recovery.”

  “Oh thank God,” Gloria said and squeezed my hand.

  The tightness around my chest loosened up and I
exhaled deeply with relief. Grant was going to fight his way back, this I knew. He was probably pissed off in his comatose state. “I need to tell Miranda.” I started to walk away, but stopped. “Can I see Grant first?” I asked Dr. Hyashi. Despite his professional demeanor, he had kind eyes, like his dark irises were soaked in compassion. He smiled at me.

  “Yes, briefly though and only immediate family,” he addressed the crowd without flinching.

  “Natalie, go see Grant, Cici and I will tell Miranda,” Aunt Gloria said, getting Miranda’s best friend’s attention and ushering her toward the automated emergency room doors.

  I followed Dr. Hyashi to the elevators and Uncle Al walked beside me and stayed by side until we approached Grant’s room. He hung back while I continued on with the doctor, who had me put on a surgical mask first and rub my hands and upper arms down with antibacterial gel.

  We stepped inside the dimly lit room and I wasn’t prepared to see Grant lying so still. He had more tubes sticking out of him than a character in a sci fi movie. Some machines beeped while another made a whoosh and hush sound. Other than those noises, the room was quiet.

  I hung back, apprehensive about getting closer, unsure whether it was safe or not. “Go ahead. It’s okay to touch him. I’ll give you a few minutes.” Dr. Hyashi left, the door closing with a click, leaving me alone with Grant.

  Crossing the room to his bed, I reached for his hand, which was still warm and vital. It was surreal looking down at my brother as I was used to him being so strong, not vulnerable like this. A breathing tube covered most of his face making him look more machine than human. His hospital gown wasn’t secured, just draped over his body revealing a stark white bandage taped to his chest. Pulling the gown down, I discovered that in addition to the bandage over his heart, there was another one near his abdomen. I noticed the areas where his chest was shaved. The lines weren’t neat; indicative of the hurry they were in to treat his wounds. His skin had a jaundiced tint from iodine or whatever they had used to disinfect. A tube was inserted into his left side, by his ribs, allowing bloody liquid to drain.