by S. A. Wolfe
“All that matters is that I love you,” Robert says, kissing me.
He has me pushed against his car in the isolated, unlit parking lot.
I love our spontaneous sexual encounters, thinking it makes us a romantic couple. However, his sudden desire is unwanted, especially since he is trying to silence me from talking about the recent news story about his father and everything that worries him. His need to distract me with sex in public only dampens my arousal.
He pulls my dress up and pushes my underwear down before he whips out a condom and covers himself. He is aggressive, thrusting into me before I am ready, making love to me in a way that he never would have in the past—without feeling. It’s not love; it is a basic, desperate need to fill some void.
He climaxes in a matter of minutes as I hold on to him, hoping I am giving him some comfort. Yet, I don’t want to be the “void filler.”
As time moves on, our relationship turns in a direction I don’t like. Robert becomes more elusive and I become more resentful. He thinks he is keeping me safe by withholding information about his father’s criminal activity, but it only makes me angrier. He is still kind and loving, however the sparkle of humor and vitality of that eighteen-year-old Robert who was so enigmatic is gone. I am dealing with a different man all together, one who sometimes seems paranoid and is most definitely not telling me what is going on, and his neediness takes an ugly transformation into possessiveness.
He calls me several times a day while I am rushing to classes or study groups. He checks in to verify with whom I am hanging out with, and suggests that he come upstate to visit me during the weeknights, too. It is no longer a relationship headed towards my fairy tale marriage; it’s a young woman managing the fears of a young man.
I play nursemaid, therapist, nurturing friend, and regardless of how much I still care for Robert, I am no longer in love with him. I feel like I’ve become his comfortable safety net instead of his ardent lover. My passion to be with him has withered away to an undeniable pity for him, and a self-loathing for myself, believing I could change him or us.
“Robert, what exactly is your dad doing to you?”
“The feds are breathing down his neck, and I think he realizes that he’s not Teflon Vinnie any more. Some undercover agents and informants have plenty of tape on my dad’s guys, and even my dad, making incriminating statements. My father is getting scared, and when he gets scared, he becomes inventive.”
“In what way?” I ask, noticing the tremor in Robert’s hand.
“My father never leaves a paper trail, not in this business. He screwed up somewhere, and he’s ready to throw other people under the bus to spare himself.”
“You? He’d do that to you?”
“Not just me, but others.”
“How?” I don’t know the dynamics or the ins and outs of the Marchetto organization—I’ve never really wanted to.
“My fingerprints are on that drug bust,” he whispers shamefully.
I stare at him in disbelief. That was a huge news story. One weekend, in a hotel room, we watched the constant news coverage of people being arrested and doing the perp walk to various courthouses. Robert and I had felt relief to be out of that world, or so I thought.
Angry tears begin to blur my vision. “How is that possible?”
“I’m not going to make excuses for what I did, but my dad assured me that he just needed me on one job. It was a simple exchange of funds. No guns, no drugs. I mean no one was hurt.”
“Of course people were hurt,” I snap. “It was an enormous distribution of heroin that went to not only addicts, but kids, students, mothers, and anyone else they could sell to. How could you be involved in that?”
“I made a bad decision. A deal with my dad. If I did what he wanted, I would be cut loose, free and clear. I wanted that so I could leave here, and to maybe go across the country to be with just you. I should have known that the only one who wins in deals with my father is my father. He made sure to mark me with evidence as future protection for himself. His guy was wired and has me making a transaction during that time. It’s small, but it’s strong enough to bring me in. I knew I was picking up a cash payment, but I had no idea it was tied to the heroin shipment. You have to believe me. I thought it was one small, dirty deed, if that’s possible. Something insignificant.”
“And if they bring you in, they’ll cut you a deal to blow the whistle on the guys at the top—your dad.”
“My father would never let it come to that.” Robert looks down at his trembling hands. Strong hands that used to engage in street fights for kicks. Hands I used to kiss and hold.
“I don’t understand. Your parents kept you out of most of this crap, and when your dad became the boss and made the money, he sent you to the best schools. He wanted you to succeed in the real world. This doesn’t make sense. Are you saying he’d let you go to prison for him?”
“No, Emma. He didn’t want me to succeed in the real world; he wanted me to serve him. He wouldn’t let me make it to prison. He has leverage against me. If I squeal on him, I lose everything, too. He’s counting on me not talking.”
I can’t take in all this grisly information at once. He has shattered my perception of this dark world I didn’t want any part of, and he has made it worse.
“So, if you don’t divulge information to the Feds, they send you to prison, right?”
“In theory, but you need to think about the odds of me making it to prison or staying alive once I’m there. There will be a hit on me, no matter if I’m in or out.”
“Oh, God, Robert. I can’t believe this.” I drop my head and start tearing up again. When the waitress places water and some giant fried onion thing in front of us, Robert thanks her so she will leave then hands me some napkins to wipe my eyes.
My face must look puffy and blotchy from the tears because Carson looks at me and stands up. I shake my head and wave him back to his seat. He then looks over my head and shakes his head at Dylan, I assume. I glance over at Cooper who is leaning back on his bar stool, watching us full on. That is what I like about Cooper, he is not hiding like he’s on a stake out. He looks like he is ready to pounce into action if need be.
“I didn’t want to drop this bomb on you, but it’s not just about me. It’s…”
I look up at him as he struggles to find the right words. He decides to say nothing and then my curiosity is more than piqued.
“It’s what? Tell me.”
“Nothing,” Robert says quietly.
“I don’t know why you’re here and what you think I can do. What can I do to help you? I have no power in this situation with your father. My own dad has already paid an enormous fortune to the organization, and I’m hoping he can sell his business to a bigger operation and get out. Get out of Jersey all together.”
Robert winces, and I sense he wants to say something important, something that he’s meant to tell me at this meeting, yet he is beginning to shut down again. Those familiar walls are going up—the barrier—so I won’t hear or see unbearable things, but what does he have to protect me from now after what he’s just told me?
“I had to see you,” he says, his face relaxes a bit, his beauty oozing out again; those alluring dark eyes matched with a fleeting grin. “I suppose I had a fantasy that you’d drop everything and come with me. We’d leave this place and go far away—forever.”
I don’t know what to say, and my heart breaks a little as I watch his long, dark lashes sweep down as he closes his eyes. I used to love this boy whose swoon worthy good looks and adoring attention were enough to sustain me, I thought, indefinitely. A part of me keeps Dylan’s image firmly at the front of my mind because my heart is falling for him, although I believe Dylan would understand my reluctance to walk away from Robert and leave him to bear this alone. I don’t know what I am supposed to do, however I do know that abandoning Robert isn’t an option.
“I can’t leave with you, and I don’
t know how to help you. I want to, though I can’t go on the run like we’re Bonnie and Clyde.”
“I don’t want you to live like that either.” He smiles and takes a gulp of his water.
I stare at the onion blossom, the fried monstrosity sitting between us.
“How can your mother stand by and watch this happen?”
I try to picture Robert’s mother with her pretty Italian features; her thick, black stylish hair and attractive figure. Would she be willing to let her son go to prison so her husband could keep the money stream coming in? Would she still look beautiful and stoic for news cameras, or would she break down at the thought of losing her eldest child?
“She’ll do whatever the family needs. Emma, I didn’t realize my parents were these kinds of people until recently. I tried to look at everything through rose-colored glasses in a way, like you.”
“What do you mean, like me? I’ve never had any illusions about the people in your business.”
“Right.” His tone is unconvincing.
There is more to this nightmare that he is hiding from me.
“Where are you staying? Who is helping you? What aren’t you telling me?” I want to reach out and hold his hand again, touch his face to reassure him. I am afraid my gestures could be misconstrued, though, therefore I keep my hands in my lap.
“The less I tell you, the better. I don’t want you to be a part of this. I’m okay, though. I have friends who are helping me and I’m figuring out what to do next. Please don’t tell your father or Sean that you spoke to me. Can you do that for me?”
“Of course. I won’t tell anyone.”
“Except for your three bodyguards.” He smiles weakly.
I want to cry and scream and shake him at the same time. How could he do this? Even if it was a mistake, nothing done for his father can be considered an innocent slip. If he has been threatened or coerced in the way my father has been subjected to extortion for years, Robert won’t divulge it.
“They aren’t out to get you. They’re my friends. They want to make sure I’m safe, that’s all.”
Robert gives a deep, warm chuckle. “I love that about you. If you could see the look on your boyfriend’s face right now, you’d know he doesn’t think of you as his friend. The way he’s been watching me since we sat down… Well, let’s just say, he’s made his point.”
At those words, I want to turn around and see Dylan’s reassuring, composed expression. Knowing he is behind me fills my chest with a new sensation, stronger and different than what I used to feel with Robert.
“Was there something else you wanted to tell me?”
“There are a lot of things I want to say to you, maybe things I wish I’d said sooner. It doesn’t matter now.”
He sounds so hopeless, like he is giving me an end-of-the-world send off. I will not accept that. We are intrinsically connected, defined by circumstances we never controlled, and ending our intimate relationship was not enough to sever my attachment to Robert. I am past the crush, the heart-stopping love, the lust, the hope, but I am very much connected to him by an undying fondness and concern. I can’t simply blot him from my memory, though it would make life easier if I could.
“Times up.” Dylan’s demand makes me pop my head up. “You saw her and now it’s time to leave,” he says to Robert.
“Yeah. It is.” Robert gazes at me as he throws cash on the table for the bill. He rises while Cooper and Carson come to stand behind Dylan.
I am flustered for a moment. I don’t have my answers. Robert came here to give me this horrific news, and I haven’t pledged any kind of help. I want to go back to my cozy makeshift home with Dylan, yet I don’t want to leave this unresolved. I haven’t done anything to help Robert, and now he faces a worse fate than I’ve previously thought.
As Dylan takes my hand again and leads us out of the restaurant, the others follow. Outside, Cooper is silent as he gives me a gentle tap across my chin with his fist. He then gets on his Harley and zooms out of the parking lot. Carson pats my shoulder before he gets in his truck. He waits for Robert to get back in his car and then follows him out onto the interstate.
Dylan opens the passenger door of the Jeep, and I climb in. I sit there for a moment, replaying the dialogue in my head while Dylan reaches across me and buckles my seat belt and then kisses me gently on the cheek. Sometimes people feed off each other’s sadness, and Dylan seems to be in tune with mine. His lips linger against my skin as if he knows that we can’t always release people who have been under our skin for so many years, and that escaping disappointment is next to impossible. I seek out his lips and kiss him back as he wraps his arms around me so tightly it triggers a faucet of tears until I am gushing.
I don’t know how long he stands there holding my sagging, crying body. By the time he gets in the Jeep to drive us home, it is dark and I wonder if I will ever see Robert again, if he even has a chance at living.
Seventeen
Dylan
It took all my will power not to drag that guy out to the parking lot and beat the shit out of him. I don’t know if I am feeling more anger than jealousy. I shouldn’t be angry about someone Emma was involved with before she knew me, but I can be pissed as hell that he is making her feel sorry for him. He’s a sleazy piece of shit, and Emma’s heart is too big. I could see the pain on her face. She can’t help a dangerous guy like that, and the sooner I get that through her head, the better.
When we get home, she goes upstairs and lies on her bed, fully dressed with her shoes on. I heat up some leftover vegetable stew and rip a chunk of bread off a baguette and then take up a tray to her. Her eyes are open, staring at the ceiling.
What is so special about this guy that he could leave her in this state? I pull off her shoes and then she sits up and leans back against the big decorative pillows while I set the dinner tray over her lap.
“Eat something, you’ll feel better,” I tell her.
I climb in on the other side of the bed and sidle up to her, putting a straw in the iced tea she loves. I brew it every day for her. Seriously, I am ready to spoon feed this girl until she comes out of this ex-boyfriend coma. He doesn’t get to do this to her, and she doesn’t get to mope and feel sorry for him.
“Emma, stop it.”
She glances at her food and then meets my insistent gaze.
“I’m sorry. Thank you for dinner. I don’t know if I have an appetite, though.” Her mouth turns down into a pouty frown, and she looks like she’s about twelve.
“He’s got serious problems, and you can’t fix them for him. You know his family and their line of work.” I scoff for referring to it as work. “He wanted to meet. You met him. It’s done.”
I rip off a smaller piece of bread and hand it to her. She holds it tentatively over the stew.
“Why was Cooper there? And Carson? I didn’t see you call them before we left the office.”
“We had an understanding, that if this guy… if Robert showed up, they’d watch out for you, too.”
“Cooper seemed different, like he’s done this before,” she says in a soft, tired voice.
“I don’t know about that. I just know Carson had mentioned that he would be watching out for Robert, so he must have enlisted Cooper.”
“I’m surprised you didn’t frisk Robert first.” She dips the bread into the stew.
“Believe me, I thought about it. Then I saw his face. He wasn’t there to hurt you. Whatever he needed from you—to see you one last time—”
“Why do you say that?” she asks, suddenly alert. “Do you know something I don’t? Even Robert was fairly cryptic.”
“I only know what your friend Sean told us. I assume he’s in a situation that will bury him deep.”
“If you believe he’s guilty, why didn’t you and Carson call the Feds yourself?”
She begins eating the stew, and I’m relieved to have that at least.
“I don’t know if he’s g
uilty of anything. I don’t have any facts, so I’m not about to get us, or him, entangled with law enforcement when I don’t have the information in front of me. What did he say to you?”
“His father is probably going to be able to pin a huge drug bust on him. Robert thinks he’s being set-up by his father. He was involved in a transaction that he had no idea was associated with a major heroin bust two years ago.”
“Ah, Emma. You believe that he couldn’t know what he was doing? Babe, this is all he knows. His father is running the show. How is it possible for him to not be aware of what he was doing?”
She puts her spoon down. Shit, I just turned her off from eating. I couldn’t keep my mouth shut?
“He’s not naïve, but he did believe his father loved him. I don’t think he ever anticipated that this could happen. Neither did I, for that matter.”
She moves the tray to the floor. “Thanks for dinner. I’m just not hungry.”
She then stretches out on the bed and I pull her close to me. She leans against my body, and I take in long, slow, deep breaths to calm my overly-excited nerves at having her so close.
“Why are you so worried about him? You were pretty upset that he was trying to see you, so what’s changed your tune?”
I try to mask my frustration and anger over this guy with a softer tone. I kiss her temple, tempted to take it further. I want to fuck her until she’s coming and moaning my name, wiping any trace of this guy along with any residual feelings she has for him.
“When Robert left that note at my house, I thought he was coming back to get me, to push me back into our old relationship. Today, I saw a different Robert. He’s scared and sad… and, I guess it brought back memories—some good, some not.”
“You don’t have any power to help him. Besides, he can call it a mistake, but he has to pay the price like the rest of us.”
“Like the rest of us?” she asks, pulling back from my chest so she can see my face.
“A lot of us have had tough breaks and we have to live with it.”