My phone rings inside my pocket and I drive with one hand to retrieve it.
“Mike, now’s really not a good time,” I growl, trying to keep up with Riggs as he swerves in and out of traffic with his gun aimed at the warden. “Jesus,” I hiss. I got saddled with two pains in the ass brothers-in-law.
“Forget the dance,” he says quickly. “Get me a priest.”
I told Mike about my plan this morning and asked him if there was anything I should add to my list of demands. He only had one request; that his girl gets to dance with her dad one last time.
“Priest,” I mutter as Riggs pulls the sedan down a deserted ally. “Got it. Need to hang up now, Mike,” I rushed, ending the call and grabbing my piece from the glove box. I pull the safety back and get out of the truck. I leave the engine running so we can make a clean break.
For a split second I wonder why Mike gave a fuck if Vic was read his last rights, but as quickly as the thought crossed my mind it disappears. Riggs pulls the warden out of the car, dragging him by his feet onto the asphalt.
“Do you have any idea how much fucking trouble you’re going to be in?” The warden spits at Riggs.
“Do you have any idea how much trouble you’re going to be in when I grab the piece of ass you’ve been hiding and bring her straight to your unsuspecting wife?” Riggs fires back. “Now shut the fuck up before I put a bullet in your ass.”
“What do you want? I’ll give you whatever cash I have. Take my watch, it’s a presidential Rolex,” the warden cries.
Riggs lifts the warden’s wrist and inspects the expensive arm candy he was sporting.
“Pretty nice watch for a man on the state’s payroll,” Riggs comments, dropping his hand before slamming his boot against the man’s chest, keeping his gun aimed at the warden. “I bet I know how you can afford that sweet watch and how you pay the mortgage on the fancy house you keep your wife in or the dope apartment you stash your whore in on the Upper East Side.”
I step into the warden’s view, kneeling beside him so he can get a better look at my face, my blue eyes pierce him like daggers.
“Warden, you remember me don’t you?”
His eyes flicker before narrowing as he swallows hard.
“Bianci, inmate number two-six-eight-three-five-nine,” he recites.
The motherfucker had the memory of an elephant, reciting my inmate number without error. That’s right, me and warden Valez go way back. Back to the days when I was incarcerated.
Back in the day, Vic couldn’t afford to send someone inside with me, with Val murdered and his organization vulnerable he needed all his manpower on the streets alongside him. He may have thrown my ass in jail without regard for the life I was leaving behind but he kept me alive. He greased Valez’s palm to ensure my safety while I was locked up, a fact I didn’t discover until recently. I was untouchable while I was in jail and no rival organization stood a shot of getting close to me.
If he really wanted me out of his daughter’s life all he had to do was squash his deal with Valez and the G-Man’s men could’ve taken me down. Yet here I am, free and married to his daughter.
Vic did that for me.
Now this one was for him.
“That’s right,” I said. “Now, I want you to listen carefully. My man over here he’s got a slippery finger and some daddy issues he’s looking to unleash.”
“What the fuck man?” Riggs says, smacking me upside the head with the heel of his gun.
“See? He’s a loose fucking canon. It’d be a shame if he shot you before you had a chance to do as I say.”
“Look, I’ve done my best for Pastore while he’s been in my prison.”
“I know and the family appreciates all you’ve done this far but we have a few more requests we need you to make happen.”
“I can’t do shit about his transfer, the Bureau of Prisons controls where he goes and because he’s ill, they are carting him to a medical facility.”
I knew all about that. What Valez didn’t know was we took care of that too. The Bureau had changed the location of Vic’s transfer, dragging his ass further away from New York and not to the prison that the G-Man was in. Good ol’ Riggs came through again, tampering with G-Man’s medical records and diagnosing the motherfucker with testicular cancer, placing him in the same prison as the Vic.
“It’s not about the transfer,” I explain. “Vic will be in Otisville until the end of the week and we intend to get our money’s worth out of you.”
“Do as he says motherfucker. I’ve got a man sitting on your whore’s doorstep and another one hiding in the bushes of your home, spying on your wife as she showers,” Riggs threatens.
“What do you want?” Valez growls.
“For starters, you’re going to reinstate Vic’s phone privileges. He’ll be allowed to call his wife as much as he wants until he gets on that bus,” I begin.
“Fine,” he hisses.
“I’m not finished,” I sneer as Riggs bends down, inching the tip of his gun against Valez’s mouth.
“No more interruptions, asshole,” Riggs reprimands.
“As I was saying, his daughters will visit him, the last time they see their father won’t be in a crowded visitor’s room with every Tom, Dick and Harry doing time watching them say goodbye. You’ll provide a private room for their final visits. You can keep a CO in the room with them but they’ll be allowed to touch their father, hold his goddamn hand if they want to. Same goes for his wife, when Mrs. Pastore comes up to say goodbye to her husband she’ll get the same respect,” I instruct.
“Anything else?”
“A priest.”
“He’ll be given his final rights when he’s transferred,” Valez says.
“Get the man a priest or so help me God…,” Riggs grunts.
“We want the priest present when the daughters come to visit,” I say, not really sure where the fuck I was going with this since it was Mike’s idea. I can’t imagine any kind of good coming from the girls being there when Vic is read his last rights.
“Fine,” he agrees.
Reaching into Valez’s jacket, I pat him down, searching for his phone. I pull it out of his jacket pocket and hand it to him.
“Call the prison, Valez,” I order, pausing for a moment. “Now.” He stares at the phone in my hand momentarily.
“Well, he didn’t fucking stutter,” Riggs growls. I watch intently as Valez reaches for the phone.
‘Thatta boy.
I’ve still got it.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Adrianna and Anthony went through the metal detectors first. My sister was a pro, all the visits she paid Anthony had taught her well, she didn’t even flinch when the female correction officer patted her down. This morning she called me and reminded me to wear a sports bra, anything with an underwire would set the detectors off and I’d either be forced to remove my bra or denied my final visit with my dad.
Still, even with the helpful tips from my sister and the few visits I had under my belt I felt like a fish out of water. I was ashamed to say I wouldn’t miss this and only because no more visits meant not seeing my dad anymore.
I lift my hands, spread them wide to match the way my legs are parted and stare at my sister as the officer pats me down, checking for any weapons or contraband. I roll my eyes, chewing on my bottom lip as the bitch pats down my ass.
“These people don’t know Daddy, huh?” I question my sister, averting my eyes to the guard with lingering hands. Bitch, I don’t roll that way. “Newsflash, Officer Feel Me Up, if I was going to sneak anything to my dad it would be a Soppressata and you wouldn’t be able to find it unless you had an x-ray machine handy,” I sneer, dropping my hands before I smugly walk through the metal detector.
“Be sure to tell your dad that,” Anthony says, tugging my ponytail. “He’ll get a kick out of that,” he teases, winking his crystal blue eyes.
I grab my sister’s hand a
s Mikey makes his way through the metal detector, snatching his father’s watch they made him remove from the basket and fastening it back on his wrist.
Adrianna squeezes my hand reassuringly as we are ushered through a series of fire safe doors, handed off to one guard after another before a big burly man dressed in a suit that was clearly three sizes too small in the waist, greets us at the end of long narrow hallway.
“Where the fuck are they taking us?” I whisper to my sister as I stare at the man who is locking eyes with Anthony.
“Bianci,” he mutters.
“Warden,” Anthony replies, holding his gaze. The two men stare off for what seems like forever before the warden glances over his shoulder at the metal door. He turns around, rapping his knuckles three times against the small pane of glass. Another correction officer opens the door and steps to the side allowing us room to walk inside.
My stomach rolls as Mikey presses his hand against the small of my back and together we follow Anthony and Adrianna inside the private room. I breathe a sigh of relief when I glance around the empty room, not ready for the moment I’ll see my dad. There’s a table centered in the room and six chairs, two on one side of the table and four on the other. I don’t question the other chair, figuring it was for a guard or something.
“Why didn’t they bring us to the visitor’s room?” Adrianna asks, turning around to face Anthony with worried eyes. “Did something happen?”
“Relax, Reese’s,” Anthony soothes, placing his hands on her shoulders as he bends his knees, making himself eye level with her. “It’s all good, baby.”
The door opens as I spin around to face Mikey and my eyes glance over his shoulder to the guard stepping out of the way for my father. I watch with trepidation as my father strides through the door. His head is down, shielding his face from my view but I notice his hair is grayer than the last time, even thinner but still immaculate, not a strand out of place.
“Enjoy your visit, Pastore,” the guard says before closing the door behind him.
Slowly, like a scene in a movie, my dad lifts his head and whatever response he was about to give the guard becomes lost on his tongue as his eyes find mine and my sister’s.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” he whispers hoarsely.
Tears blur my vision as I smile widely and run to him, wrapping my arms tightly around him. He’s thin and another man may have been knocked down by the gusto behind my embrace but not my dad. Standing his ground, he wraps his brittle arms around me and hugs me back with everything he has left inside his worn body.
“My, girl,” he whispers against my hair. His voice is different, gone was the deep lethal voice that only warmed around his family and all that cancer has left behind is a raspy voice full of strangled breaths.
I was being selfish, holding on for dear life not willing to give my sister a chance at embracing our father but I couldn’t bring myself to unlock my arms from around him. He smelt like Old Spice cologne, the generic crap they let inmates buy with their commissary not the Yves St. Laurent he usually wore.
His aging face comes into my view as he slowly pulls back. His complexion is awful, his olive skin was now gray and the whiskers he had along his jaw blended into his skin. Aside from the dark circles shadowing them, his eyes are the only feature that still resembles traces of him. Eyes that are full of pride, love and smile at me just as his mouth does.
“You’re beautiful,” he rasps, taking my hand in both of his and bringing it to his pale lips. “How’d the doctor’s visit go?”
“I’ll be okay,” I choke out.
“I want all the details,” he demands in between breaths, releasing my hands and looking across the room at my sister. Reluctantly, I step out of the way and grant my sister her time with our dad.
I wasn’t sure what to expect from Adrianna, she always had a bumpy relationship with our dad. I knew she loved him as much as I did but this wasn’t only goodbye for her, this was the last chance she had at forgiving our father for all the mistakes he made.
“There’s my other beauty,” Dad says, shuffling his feet closer to Adrianna.
She didn’t try to meet him half way instead, she bowed her head and her body writhed with sobs. Anthony wrapped an arm around her waist and bent his head to whisper something only she could hear.
Dad’s pace quickened as he continued toward Adrianna. Her husband continued to whisper words into her ear and she nodded in understanding. She lifted her head just as our dad reached her and Anthony took a step back, giving him room to take his daughter into his arms and comfort her just as he used to when we were kids.
“Dry your eyes,” he whispers, swaying slightly with his arms tightly wound around her tiny frame. “You’ve cried enough over me,” he adds.
Big fat tears ran down my father’s cheeks causing my heart to break a little more with each one released.
Adrianna pulls back, taking his face into her hands and smiles, giving him the brightest smile she had. When we were kids, she used to look up at him as she is now, like he was her favorite person in the entire world. Like he was her hero.
He smiled sadly as she stared at him, memorizing every feature of his face.
“I love you,” she whispers. “I’m sorry if I sometimes didn’t show it, so sorry I ever made you doubt it.”
He shakes his head, wiping away the tears cascading down her cheeks with his thumbs as he cocks his head to the side.
“I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life but my biggest regret will always be failing you,” he confesses.
“You didn’t fail me, Daddy,” she cries. “I know that now,” she whispers.
“I couldn’t let you go,” he explains. “I didn’t know how to, I couldn’t accept you weren’t my little girl anymore.”
He tucks her hair behind her ear and grants her a bittersweet smile.
“But that isn’t so now, is it? You’ll always be my little girl, won’t you?”
“Always,” she assures.
He pulls back and glances over his shoulder toward me, extending his hand and willing me with his gaze to join them. I close the distance between us as Adrianna drops her hands from his face and my dad grabs a hold of my hand and pulls me into the crook of his arm. With both me and my sister stuck to him like glue, he showered the top of our heads with kisses before choking out the words I’ll always remember.
“You’re both Daddy’s little girls and always will be even in eternity,” he utters. His thin arms squeezing us tightly against his sides. “I love you both with my whole heart and all I ask is that you never forget that.”
Anthony and Mikey move to the back of the room as Dad guides us to the table, pulling out our chairs and tucking our legs beneath the table before he walks around and takes a seat on the opposite end. He reaches across and takes one hand from each of us and holds onto our hands for dear life.
He insists we have all done enough crying and wants us to make the most of our time together. He starts with me, giving me his undivided attention as he sets his intent gaze on me and makes me recall every detail of my doctor’s visit. I tell him about my diagnosis and my plan of action. I explain the surgery to him and tell him I will most likely have difficulty having children.
I see the unmistakable forlorn look in his eyes and I smile back at him.
“I’m okay, Dad. Mikey and I discussed it and we’re not even sure we want kids but if we decide we do, well, he’d move Heaven and Earth to give me whatever I want. I’m going to have a great life.” I promise him, my voice cracking as I say the words.
“That you are,” he agrees, leaning back in his chair as he glances over our shoulders at the two men who claimed our hearts. “I don’t think I could’ve picked two better men for the two of you,” he says thoughtfully, returning his warm eyes back to us. “I remember your First Holy Communion,” he recalls, speaking to my sister. “Val and I joked that you and Michael would one day end up married,” he laughs, turn
ing his gaze to me. “Yet you’re the one who will become a Valente.”
“Pastore-Valente,” I correct.
“That makes me proud and I’m sure wherever Val and Maryann are they’re smiling down too,” he says with a wink.
He turns back to Adrianna.
“Anymore grandbabies in the future?”
“Probably one more,” she says. “If it’s a girl her name will be Frankie and if it’s a boy Anthony Jr.,” she informs him so grandpa knows the names of any future Bianci children.
“Paint me a picture, girls,” he requests. It was one of his favorite sayings, a staple in our childhood memories. He closes his eyes, as he did so many times throughout the years, and asks us to show him the future, one he won’t be a part of.
We tell him our dreams, our hopes for what may come. We vow to always take care of our mom and keep the traditions they instilled in us alive. There was no shortage of tears and the love between a father and his daughters was very much alive and always would be.
With life comes death. Sometimes you don’t see it coming, sometimes you have time to prepare for it but either way it leaves you raw and wondering how your life will go on without those who made your life have meaning. It will be hard, they’ll be days I’ll cry, days I’ll sit at the cemetery and talk to a stone, days I’ll look up to the heavens and wish for a sign. But, life will go on for me and my sister and sometimes we’ll feel guilty or wish he was here. The world will still turn with our father’s love forever alive in our hearts.
“Use the Long Island house,” Dad says in-between coughing and struggling for breath. “Create memories just like we used to when you were kids.”
“We will, Dad,” Adrianna promises. Reaching into her pocket she pulls out several folded pieces of paper. She unfolds them, splays them on the table and mentally checks off the things listed on the pages. The last page remains folded, and she places her hand over it, pushing it toward dad.
Eternal Temptations (The Tempted Series Book 6) Page 19