Rascal (Edgewater Agency Book 2)

by Kyanna Skye

  Jamie felt a prickle of excitement surging in her heart that was rivaled by a tickle of fear. Her curiosity was running rampant now and the desire to speak and get some answers was growing stronger inside of her.

  “Very good, sir. When can we expect you back?” Desoto asked.

  Dominic looked at her, his eyes scanning the length of her body and she could almost feel him undressing her with his eyes. Part of her wished that he’d skip that part and go straight to using his hands. “A day or two,” he replied. “I want to enjoy myself a little before I settle in. Maybe unwind some knots.”

  “Sounds good, sir. Will there be anything else?”

  Dominic froze for a moment, his face looking slightly dour. “My agreement with the Bonnano’s?”

  “Still intact, sir. After something like this, how could they not honor the agreement?”

  Dominic nodded. “Alright, that’ll be all then, Jack. I’ll see you in a couple of days.” He clicked the phone off and the silence that filled the car was heavy enough to crush granite to gravel. But after the silence lingered only a moment, Dominic finally said, “Okay, you talk now.”

  “What the hell was that all about?”

  Dominic sighed. “Remember that deal I told you that I made?”

  She vaguely recalled hearing about it the other night on the roof. “Something about having to do things you don’t like to get what you wanted?”

  He nodded. “Those relatives that I told you about that helped me out after my mother died and my father went to prison? It was the Bonnano’s that helped me. My cousin was the one that owned that vineyard that I told you about. They were sympathetic to my dilemma. They had a bone to pick with Lester & Desoto and I offered them the means to level the playing field.”

  She digested that for a moment. “So, you do work for the Mafia?”

  “Like I said, I do now.”

  “You might want to explain.”

  He went right into it. “The client that Lester & Desoto represented that sent my father to prison was a, shall we say, adversary to the Bonnano family. They were none too happy when my father got sent away, it was bad for business and they were looking for a means to reconcile the damages. When I was old enough I agreed to get them control of the firm for what they did; since the Bonnanos they did like my father after all. I was motivated and I’d shown them what I could do and so they agreed. But in exchange, I have to turn control of the firm over to someone whom they know that they can trust.” He gestured to her.

  “Me?!” she asked, stepping on the gas harder than she meant to and revving the engine hard for a few seconds before calming down. “You want me to run the firm for the mob?”

  “No, you just to have run it in a way that they know you can’t be bought by someone with deep pockets like they were when my father was sent up. We had to test you, Jamie,” Dominic said apologetically. “The papers that you published in school… getting people to tell you what they know without directly asking them… they were enough to grab the attention of a lot of people who would happily put them to more selfish uses. We just wanted to make sure that we got them first. Those tricks of yours are skills that we can use, especially in a business like legal representation where the stakes can be high. We knew that you could do it, but what we weren’t sure of was how you would conduct your loyalty. That’s why I had you picked to counsel me.”

  “You?!” she asked, her heart beginning to rev faster than the engine of her car. “You picked me to be with you inside?”

  “If you chose to tell Desoto what you knew, we’d know that you couldn’t be trusted and we’d just send you on your way. Getting you to find out where I’d hid the money was never an issue; it was just the bait since Jack knew what I’d done with it all the time. But we did want to see how well your theories held up in the field. And from where I stood, someone that wasn’t as familiar with your work as I was wouldn’t stand a chance. I’m seriously considering putting you at the head of a seminar where you teach these little tricks to people that work for us… er, sorry, work for you now.”

  He held up a patient finger. “But you told Jack that you’d failed. You were willing to take the blow to your career for me.” He kissed her hand again. “I wasn’t expecting to fall in love with you over this whole thing, but I–”

  “Wait, wait, wait,” she said, trying to maintain control. “Love?”

  He kept his gaze fixed on her. “Yes. Love.”

  She was silent a moment, uncertain as to how to respond. She had never tried to define what they had before now and was thankful that he had beaten her to it.

  “Is that wrong?” he asked, his tone becoming frightful.

  She thought about it for a moment. No, it wasn’t wrong. She had a good man in her life now, and obviously, her future was secure. But working for the mob? Somehow she got the feeling that it wouldn’t be working for the mob so much as working for Dominic Rossi.

  She had no problems with that.

  “No,” she said, “not at all.”

  His look was pleasing. “I’m glad to hear it.”

  She licked her lips anxiously. “So, this was all just another magic trick, wasn’t it? Misdirection… sleight of hand… smoke and mirrors and all that?”

  He shrugged. “What can I say?”

  She felt a warm feeling pass over her heart, wondering what other tricks that he might have in store. And she was anxious to find out.

  They drove on.

  The End

  Confessions: A Secret Baby Football Romance

  Kelly slipped into the employee bathroom and soaked in the silence of the small haven. The room was lit with a failing fluorescent light that sputtered overhead, giving light to the outmoded and decaying tile that had been obsolete in the 50’s. Beyond the door the old jukebox could still be heard faintly but she savored the solitude that she had for a moment.

  She locked the deadbolt on the door, securing her privacy and stepped forward into the dimly lit room and stood before the mirror. The figure that looked back on her wasn’t a terrible looking thing… at least not completely. Her hair hung in thin blonde tendrils around her face, framing a visage of fair complexion and light brown eyes. Attached to those were a slender neck, a bosom that was ample, and a narrow waist. But all of it seemed ridiculous in the vintage 50’s waitress uniform that she wore, a thing of fading pink with a hideous hat crowned in lace and offset by a white apron.

  “Sexy,” she murmured to her reflection.

  She cringed at the word. Being sexy was exactly the problem.

  To prove it, she turned around and lifted up the slender skirt of her uniform and observed the damage that had been done there.

  On her left ass cheek there was the discernable impression of a forming bruise. A gift from a patron that believed the illusion that her appearance suggested: sexy. The pain that had come from the pinching fingers had been hard, almost as hard as the man that had given it to her.

  “Fucking Turk,” she grumbled, surveying the damage.

  Turk was a constant patron here at the diner. And like most of the other people who came in, he worked in the quarry pit. As a result, he was large, muscular, and he was accustomed to getting what he wanted.

  Touchy Turk, the others in the diner had called him. On her first day here, years before, the other waitresses had warned her about him. He was an older man, pushing sixty or seventy with a beard that made him look like Santa Claus in the off-season. She wasn’t the only waitress that he flirted with; she wasn’t even the only one that he got particularly touchy with. But there were days when he was worse than usual.

  With a sigh she lowered her skirt, covering the bruise. A couple of days on and it would be faded enough to where she wouldn’t even feel it. She had learned to deal with that; the touching, the teasing, the talking… it was all part of the job.

  She had always mused that the more humiliating facets of her job would be lessened if they could only do without the stupid uniforms.

 
“We’re a vintage diner,” her manager had told her on day one. “Participation is payment.” That had been all he’d said and for the sake of needing money in a town where traditions meant a lot, she had endured it.

  Holy Oaks wasn’t a city that could be found easily on any map. But if one looked closely enough in the historical records they would find that it once was famous for turning out fighter planes during World War II. It didn’t do much else. And that tradition was what it clung to.

  Convinced that the bruise was nothing large to worry about she sighed. She had a few minutes at least before she would be missed. She checked the front pocket of her waitressing apron and looked at the change that Turk had left for her tip.

  Two crumpled $1 bills sat there.

  “Fifteen percent of the bill my ass,” she muttered, stuffing the bills back into her pocket. Turk, even if he was an asshole, had been the only one to tip her today. And though the payment was meager, she would take it. Every little bit helped. That also had been a lesson that she’d learned on day one.

  Her phone chirped, shattering the brief silence of the restroom.

  She nearly jumped, wondering who was trying to get in touch with her now. She removed her phone from her other pocket and checked the screen. She had a new text message… from a number that she didn’t recognize.

  She frowned at the small screen.

  That made 19 new messages today and all from the same number. She’d gotten into the habit of ignoring texts from numbers she didn’t know. Too many scams and whatever were out there these days that it seemed like a prudent measure. But now, with 19 texts from the same number, she felt a stab of curiosity.

  “Fuck it,” she said and opened the text.

  She scrolled through them all. They were nothing fancy, there was nothing indicative of whom the sender was or that there was any kind of a scam to be had. They were simple things: “Hi”. “What’re you doing?” “I’ve got so much to tell you.” They went on and on like that. It wasn’t until she got to the bottom that she realized the identity of the sender… and her intentions.

  “I’m getting married!” … “Can’t wait to see you”… “We can hang out under South Bridge like we used to”… “I want you to be there!”…“Coming home in a couple days.”

  Kelly’s jaw nearly dropped when she realized what this meant. As if to answer the texts she nearly whispered, “Susie?”

  It had to be. Susie Cinch was her best friend in high school and Susie had been the only one – ever – that she had hung out with under South Bridge. It had been their little hideaway. A place where they did whatever they wanted… a place where they could tell each other anything… a place that was, well, theirs.

  The suddenness of it hit her like an invisible fist to her chest. Susie was coming home? She was getting married? She was going to get married here?

  “What the fuck for?” she murmured. Holy Oaks was the kind of place where any of the native-born residents all shared the same dream: to get out. Susie had been one of those that had managed this dream and she’d clung to it. But somewhere along the way they had lost touch. Susie was successful at her job, no real surprise there, but Kelly had always thought that she was too successful to stay in touch with a lowly urbanite like her. In truth, Kelly hadn’t really minded the silence that had formed between them. But now, spanning years since they had last spoken, Susie was reaching out to her as if they’d never lost touch. And though her text messages had gone unanswered, she had kept them coming as though she knew that Kelly had – or eventually would – read them.

  Just like Susie… she thought.

  More than nostalgia washed over her as she reread the texts. She had not input Susie’s number into her phone for years now, but it seemed that Susie never lost hers. Not surprising really, Kelly had never changed her number. There had never been any reason to.

  But still, the vastness of it all was surprising. Susie was coming home. She was getting married. And that was where the nostalgia faded and the worry set in. Weddings were happier times… times when relatives came together from wherever in the world they were to witness the happy occasion. At least, all of the close relatives would come home.

  Tightness slipped into her belly that threatened to tie her stomach like a balloon animal. She took several deep breaths and shut her eyes, trying to calm herself down. Worry… memories… fatigue… all of it came over her at once and she had no desire to feel any of it. She was already tired and suddenly it felt like more weight was about to be heaped upon her shoulders.

  It doesn’t mean anything, she told herself. It doesn’t mean anything.

  There was a knock on the door that startled her and she nearly jumped.

  “Kelly? You okay in there?”

  She recognized the voice of Marci, one of the other waitresses.

  “Yeah,” she replied, stuffing her phone back into her apron. To complete her ruse she flushed the toilet. “I’ll be right out.”

  “Ok. New customers at table three,” Marci’s voice said.

  “Thanks,” she replied, turning on the sink as though she were washing her hands.

  The sound of receding footsteps outside told her that she had a few more precious seconds of solitude. She took a moment to actually splash some of the cold water on her face and the tingling sensation felt refreshing. She looked again at her reflected twin and the figure that stood there wasn’t the same as that which had been there a moment before.

  She looked aged, not like the twenty-something-year-old that had stood there a moment before, but more like one of those older girls that Susie and a younger version of herself used to make fun of. She looked like one of those girls that had tried to take on too much, too soon and paid the price for it.

  Looks like the joke’s on me now, she thought.

  She shut off the sink, dried her face, put on her best smile – though she didn’t really feel it – and stepped back out in her real life.

  By the time she made it home, the sun had set and the air was hot and dry as it usually was in Holy Oaks during the summer months at night. The wind’s breath was as dry as the prairie on the far side of town and it drew sweat that formed beads on her skin that made her feel sticky.

  She always looked forward to this part of the day: going home from work. Those few precious minutes between leaving the diner and getting to her front door felt like they were entirely her own. Brief, though they were they were precious. But at least returning to her front door she was returning to a part of her life that had been hard, but at least it was worth it.

  When she opened her door the soft sounds of the TV reached her ears and across the narrow living room of her apartment she saw her babysitter stir on the couch.

  The sitter, a young brunette girl that was only just fifteen, sat up on the couch. In a way, she reminded Kelly of herself in her younger days. She was full of spunk and had plans for the future and they included getting out of Holy Oaks. Perhaps that had been the reason Kelly liked her so much.

  “Hi, Kelly,” the young teen said in a near whisper.

  “Hi, Rachel,” Kelly replied, her voice matching. She looked around the apartment. All of the toys were put away when the floor should have been littered with them. Most of the lights were off, save for the kitchen and hall light. And the fading smell of something delicious wafted in from the kitchen. “Is she…?”

  “Out like a light,” Rachel confirmed. “She played hard and wore herself out today.” She pointed off towards the kitchen. “I made a couple of steaks. She ate her fill. I fixed a plate for you and put in the microwave.”

  Kelly smiled. Maybe that was the reason she liked Rachel so much. When summer ended and school started up again, she would miss the young girl’s capacity to keep her child company. “You’re a godsend.” She reached into her pocket and fished out her wallet. She removed a $20 and passed it to the eager teen. “Thanks again.”

  “No problem,” Rachel said, picking up her shoulder bag and slinging it over h
er shoulder. “Same time tomorrow?”

  Kelly nodded. “Same time.”

  The teen smiled, gathered up the few things that she had brought with her and quietly excused herself from the apartment.

  Alone for a moment, Kelly took the time to strip out of her waitresses uniform and dump her clothes into the washer, smelling the familiar odors of the restaurant on them as she did so. She slipped into a housecoat and tiptoed to the second bedroom of the apartment. The door was cracked open just enough for her to peer inside. She smiled at what she saw there.

  Lying in the bed, curled up under her sheets and wrapped in her favorite blue blanket was a vision of surpassing loveliness.

  A small head with dark brown curly hair lay pressed against the pillow. Her mouth was slightly open and drooling, her favorite teddy bear clutched under one arm smiled at her almost reassuringly.

  Kelly softly chuckled. Normally her daughter was up and wide awake by the time she got home. She must have played hard today.

  She smiled at her daughter and blew a gentle kiss across the room to the sleeping figure in the bed. “Goodnight, Ellie.”

  She found the plate in the microwave that Rachel had told her of and heated it up, silently thanking god that she didn’t have to cook for herself tonight. One of the drawbacks to being a waitress, she thought, was that she had to deal with food all day. And by the time she got home, she was so sick of the thought of food that she would rather go hungry herself. But tonight, she found Rachel’s steak beckoning her. It was a small and simple thing framed in what she was sure had been canned vegetables, but she it looked good enough.

  She poured herself a glass of wine, eager for some time to relax. For a brief moment she considered reaching into her closet and pulling out the old case that was there, containing one of the last elements from her more innocent days. But no… pulling that case out was a bad idea. Not just because it would make noise that could rouse Ellie from her rest, but because she didn’t really care to reattach herself to the memories inherent in the case’s contents.