by Hamel, B. B.
“Maybe you’re right,” I said. “I’ve just gone my whole life with my mom telling me how the mafia is evil, how you’re all just a bunch of selfish assholes and thieves and lowlifes. It’s really hard to turn all that off, you know?”
“I get it,” he said. “But you’re going to have to try. Because you need me now, little Clair. You need me to keep you safe, and you need something else, too.”
I opened my mouth to ask him what he meant, what he thought I needed, but I stopped myself.
I knew what he meant. I didn’t need to say the words.
We drove in silence the rest of the way out to my mother’s house in the Somerton neighborhood. It was situated in the far northeast corner of the city limits, just inside of Philadelphia County, but no longer urban. The houses were all detached, though of an older style, probably built in the thirties and forties and fifties. Somerton was a decent place, not an upscale suburb by any means, but better than most.
My mother lived in a small house off Rennard Street. She had a little Cape Cod with a brick facade and white vinyl siding. Five years ago, she put in a small porch out front and got it totally refinished. It was the nicest little porch in the neighborhood, but still tiny. A single car driveway sat on the right-hand side with my mother’s silver Camry parked in her normal space.
Luca pulled over in front of the house. It was late and everything was dark. There weren’t many streetlights, but I knew this place like the back of my hand. We moved out here when I was in high school, back when my mom got a new job doing paralegal stuff for a law firm. It was a stretch at the time, but it was our own little paradise, still within city limits but as far away from the city as we could afford.
I jumped out of the car and Luca followed at a leisurely pace. I kept thinking about what he had said as I hurried across the lawn, a little longer than normal, right on the edge of needing a cut. I walked up the concrete slab porch, opened the outer screen door, and knocked five times before ringing the bell twice.
The place was black and silent. My heart hammered in my chest. I tried the knob, but it was locked, and I didn’t have a key.
“Want me to break it in?” he asked.
“No,” I said, ringing the bell three more times. “Not yet. If she’s in there, I don’t want to scare her.”
He grunted in reply and leaned up against the white support beam that held up the porch’s roof.
I hit the doorbell again and a light popped on. My heart leapt up in my chest and I rang the doorbell five more times in quick succession.
“What’s going on?” I heard my mom shout from inside.
“Mom!” I knocked a few times. “Open the door!”
I heard her shuffle up close and look out the tiny peephole. “Clair? Is that you?”
“Yeah, Mom,” I said. “Can you please open up?”
I heard the door unlock and pull open to reveal my mother wearing her pajama bottoms, an old gray shirt, and a long pink bathrobe.
“Sweetie? What are you doing here? It’s so late.”
“We need to talk,” I said.
Her eyes moved past me, stopped on Luca. She took a step back and put her hands out.
“No,” she said. “No, you can’t bring him in here.”
“Mom,” I said. “Please, this is important.”
“These sons of bitches took you away from me,” she said. “Did you know I went to see your uncle? Yelled at him, the stupid bastard, yelled at him right on his own damn step. He took it like a man but I tell you, I think he was afraid. I bet he was, with all I know about them. There’s no way I’ll let that, that, that thing in this house.”
“Mom,” I said, getting angry. She was being too loud and I was afraid she’d wake up the neighbors. Someone might call the cops and that would only make things way more complicated. “Please listen. Luca is a friend. And right now, you’re in danger. We need to talk to you, please.”
Her eyes went wide. “I’m in danger?”
“It’s because of what Uncle Fazio did,” I said. “All the money he left me. Please, let’s just go inside and talk.”
My mom stared at me, eyes wide, the color draining from her face. She looked from me to Luca then back again, and shook her head.
“He takes his shoes off,” she said. “Understand?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Luca said.
She turned and stormed inside, heading back toward the kitchen.
I glanced at Luca and gave him an apologetic smile which he just shrugged off. I stepped inside and he followed. He closed the screen door, then the main door, and locked it, before bending over and taking off his shoes.
I looked around the living room as I waited for him to finish. There was the same old blue couch, the same leather armchair, the odd barnyard chic decorations my mother preferred. Rooster statues, vintage farm equipment, and a painting of cows hung on the walls and were perched on every conceivable surface.
When Luca finished, we headed back into the kitchen. It was small, vinyl floor, vinyl counters, blue cabinets with more roosters and chickens and barns. My mother had the lights on and was filling up the kettle, grumbling to herself. She put the kettle on, lit the burner, and turned to face us.
“Sit down,” she said, gesturing at the table. She cleared off some magazines, an empty Coke can, and a plate with crumbs on it, probably left out from dinner. Luca lingered near the counter, arms crossed over his chest, and I sat down across from my mom.
“I’m sorry we woke you up,” I said.
“Nearly gave me a heart attack,” she said. “I thought something was wrong.”
“Mom, something is wrong.” I shifted in my seat, not sure how to explain it.
I leaned out and reached for her hands. She took mine, her fingers thin and wrinkled. Her eyes were a dark brown, her hair was thick and curly, and there were lines around her eyes and forehead. She was beautiful once, and she still had some of that beauty, but I think years of stress and anger made her lose a lot of the glow she used to have, at least from what I’d seen in old pictures and family movies.
“Tell me you’re safe,” she said.
“She’s safe,” Luca said.
My mother cringed when he spoke and refused to look at him.
“It’s not me that’s in danger right now,” I said. “It’s actually you.”
“Me?” She blinked, leaned back, dropped my hands. “I thought you were just… scaring me. You really think I’m in trouble?”
“Mom, the men that want to hurt me, they want to use you to get to me,” I said. “They want Uncle Fazio’s money and his property. But I don’t want to give it to them. They’re bad men, Mom.”
“And this one’s better?” She jerked a hand at Luca. “You think they’re the good guys?”
“It’s complicated,” I said.
“It’s not,” she said. “It wasn’t complicated for your father at least. He thought he could play with these animals, and now he’s dead.”
“Mom, not everything is about Dad.”
“When it comes to the family, yes, it really is.” She shook her head and crossed her arms, her face frustrated. “How have you forgotten everything I’ve told you so fast?”
“Because you don’t know everything,” I said. “I know Dad died and that was really hard on you, and I know you’re angry at the family for that. But this isn’t the same situation. Really bad men want to hurt you, Mom.”
“How do you know?” she asked.
“We found a file on you,” Luca said. “In one of their safe houses. They’re going to target you sooner or later, I can guarantee that.”
“This is insane,” Mom said. “How is this happening to us?”
“Just come with us,” I said. “Go upstairs, pack a bag. We’ll keep you safe.”
“No,” Mom said.
I stared at her, mouth open. “Mom, this isn’t a game,” I said. “They’re going to hurt you. And they’re going to use you against me, which will be even worse for both of us.�
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“I won’t do it,” Mom said. “I’m not getting in bed with these men again, Clair. You can’t ask that of me.”
“Mom, you’re being unreasonable.”
“No, you’re being a selfish little brat,” she said angrily. Her tone was harsh and acid and she glared at me like I was some impetuous little teenager again. “I know what these men are and I know what’ll happen to me if I stay. But I also know what’ll happen if I go. I’m not about to sell myself out to them like you did.”
“I didn’t—” I started, but she interrupted me.
“You did,” she said, her voice low. “You want that money from Fazio, that’s fine, I can’t blame you. But you could just give it all away and save yourself all this misery. Instead, you get into bed with these bastards, and you expect me to do the same?” She looked half hysterical, like she was on the verge of something. “It’s horrible, it’s too much, and I won’t do it, Clair. I just won’t do it.”
“That’s enough,” Luca said, pushing himself off the counter. “Stop talking to your daughter that way.”
“Who do you think you are?” Mom asked Luca, staring at him, her face screwed up in a mask of outrage. “What do you know about me and my daughter?”
“I know your daughter’s trying her best to keep you safe,” Luca said. “She’s done nothing but try to keep her morals intact while trying to stay sane. And now you act like she’s selling herself out and you’re treating her like garbage. We want to protect you, and you’re throwing it back in our faces. I don’t care if you treat me like that, but you can’t treat your daughter like she’s some animal.”
Mom’s mouth worked for a second and I turned to Luca, holding up a hand.
“That’s enough,” I said, looking up into his eyes. “I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but let me talk to my mother alone, please.”
“Fine,” he said. “Two minutes and we’re leaving. I’m putting my shoes back on.” He turned and left the kitchen.
I turned back to my mother. “Luca’s right,” I said. “And you’re so far over your head, you have no clue.”
“I can’t do this, Clair,” she said. “I told Luciano he can go to hell. He won’t ever help me now.”
“Uncle Luciano will do whatever he has to,” I said. “He’s not so stupid that he thinks he can just let you get hurt. I promise, you’ll be okay, just come with us.”
She stared at me for a long moment then leaned back in her chair. “Do we have to leave now?”
“Yes,” I said. “Please, Mom. I’m begging you.”
“I won’t just do whatever they tell me,” she said. “And the minute this is over, I’m leaving. I’m not getting sucked into that world again.”
“That’s fine, Mom. Just go get packed.”
She stood up, stared at me, opened her mouth like she wanted to say something, then just shook her head instead. She walked out of the kitchen and I heard her go up the stairs to her bedroom and shut the door.
I rubbed my face as the teakettle began to whistle.
I got up, took it off the heat, turned the burner off. When I turned around, Luca was there, leaning in the doorway.
“Is she coming?” he asked.
“Yeah,” I said. “Reluctantly. You thought I was bad, but she’ll be worse.”
“Don’t worry,” he said. “We’re not going back to that safe house.”
“What?” I asked, head cocked and confused.
“Too small,” he said. “Not enough space for the three of us. And besides, now we know the Jalisco are serious about you, serious enough to go after your family. So we’re going to stay with the boss.”
“The… boss?” I blinked in confusion.
“Don Leone’s place,” he said. “Safest house in the whole damn city. So go make sure your mom’s on her best behavior.”
“I can’t promise that,” I said.
“Fair enough.” He smiled a little. “You’re about to get a big upgrade, you know that?”
“Sure,” I said, my voice a soft whisper. “Great, just what I wanted.”
He laughed and walked toward me. I looked up at him and felt so tired, so, so heavy and exhausted. I wanted to fall over and pass out right there in the kitchen, but I held myself together as he pushed me back up against the counter and looked into my eyes.
“I’m going to keep you safe,” he said. “I promise. I’ll keep you safe, and your mother, even if she doesn’t want my help.”
“I know,” I said. “It’s stupid and crazy but I believe you.”
“Good.” He leaned down, kissed my cheek. I felt a spike of fear and need rush through me. “You’re starting to learn that.”
He slid a hand through my hair, gentle at first, then gripped hard and kissed my lips.
I groaned into that kiss, wild with lust and crazy on his lips. I returned it, let his tongue glide against mine, took his taste between my lips. It was heaven and hell and I knew I was losing something every time he touched me, but I also knew I couldn’t stop myself, even if I wanted to.
I broke off the kiss and shook my head, pushing him away.
He chuckled, low and throaty.
“Go make sure your mom’s getting packed,” he said. “We’re leaving in five.”
“Yeah, sure,” I said. “Just... give me a minute.”
He left the kitchen again and I stood there alone, staring at the floor, my body a mess of conflicting needs and emotions.
But one thing remained true, one thing pulsed solid and real.
When Luca touched me, my whole world ignited.
I hated it, loathed myself for it, but god, I couldn’t deny it.
And soon it was going to get me into trouble.
15
Clair
Mom sat in the back seat and didn’t speak as Luca drove back into the city proper, away from the little suburb I used to think of as home, but now seemed too small and too fake to be anything but a memory. He stopped at the safe house, let me run inside to get my stuff, then he drove us over to Don Leone’s place. Roberto was waiting outside to usher us inside, looking around the block like we might get ambushed at any moment.
“There are rules here in this house,” Roberto said as he stood in the ornate entryway. A chandelier hung above our heads, glittering cut crystal, diamonds and glass, sending tiny rainbows all over the marble floor.
“I’m sure there are,” Mom grumbled.
Roberto ignored her. “You stay in your wing,” he said. “You will each have a room. There is room service, if you are hungry. There is a game room, a lounge. You will not wander the hallways, you will not leave your designated area. Do you all understand?”
“Yes,” Luca said, his face serous. I nodded quickly, and Mom just crossed her arms and made an annoyed face.
“Good,” Roberto said. “Come.”
He led us upstairs, through a side door, down a short hallway, and through another door. I guessed we were somewhere in the center of the block, right in the middle of the great house.
The place was dizzying. Uncle Luciano clearly bought up a bunch of houses all in a row, maybe owned the entire block, and gutted their insides. He turned the block into one incredible mansion, which was probably way against code and very illegal, but he did it anyway. The place seemed like a twisting labyrinth, and I had no clue how someone could live in it full-time.
“This hall will be for you,” Roberto said. “Mrs. Riva, your room is here. Clair, you’re in the middle. And Luca, you’re at the far end. Lounge is through the red door, pick up your phone for anything you need, it will connect automatically.” He crossed his arms. “Any questions?”
Nobody spoke. I looked around the hall, at the plush carpet, the paintings on the walls, the hand-carved molding, and wondered if I would ever stay in a place so obscenely wealthy again in my life.
“Good,” Roberto said. “Have a nice stay.” He turned and left through the door, slamming it behind him.
The hallway was relatively
long, maybe the length of two or three rowhomes, with several doors along its length. I turned to Luca, about to say something, but Mom didn’t wait and didn’t bother with pleasantries.
“I’m tired,” she said. “Might as well get this over with. Good night.” She walked to her door, threw it open, and slammed it shut behind her.
I stared at the closed door and shook my head. It was so frustrating that my mother was acting like this, like she had any say in this, like there was any other choice. She couldn’t just grin and bear it like I had been this whole time. Instead, she needed to throw a tantrum.
But as I stared at that door, I began to see how maybe, just maybe I’d been doing that same thing to Luca.
“Come on,” he said, pulling me from my thoughts. “Let’s go see where you’re staying.”
I looked at him and wanted to argue, but his smile made me reconsider. He turned and walked to my door, pulled it open, and flipped on the light. I followed him inside and stared around, my eyes wide with surprise.
It looked like a room in an upscale boutique hotel. There was a huge velvet couch with a couple chairs around a glass coffee table set in front of a tiled fireplace, probably fake, pressed up against the far right side. On the left was huge bed, flanked by nightstands. Four posts held up gauzy tulle curtains and looked like they could cover the bed in a mosquito net. A sideboard held alcohol bottles, and there was no television in sight, but there was a statue that looked like it might be worth more than my entire life sitting on a table against the far wall. A door cut into a marble-covered bathroom with gleaming fixtures, and a walk-in closet sat utterly empty except for two clothes hanger dangling at the far corner and an empty shoebox on the top shelf.
“Nice,” Luca said. He walked over to a sideboard covered in alcohol bottles and opened a bottle of something brown. He sniffed it, poured some into a glass, took a long sip. “Want some?”
“Please.”
He poured a second glass and handed it to me. I walked around the room, looking at the vases, the fake flowers, the leather-bound books lined up on a shelf.
“Do you think anyone ever uses this room?” I asked.