Forbidden

by R. R. Banks

  Miguel holds the deed up, his expression no less confused than before.

  “That house – it's to help you take care of them,” I say. “It's to get them out of that neighborhood and somewhere nicer. Somewhere they don't have to worry about walking down the street at night. It's my gift to you and your family, Miguel. For everything you do.”

  He shakes his head and slides the deed back across the desk to me. “I appreciate it, boss,” he says. “But that's too much. I can't take that.”

  I slide it back to him. “Call it an early Christmas bonus,” I say. “Seriously, Miguel. I appreciate the fact that you're a proud man. I get it. But you work your ass off and put your life on the line for me every single day.”

  “I don't know about that –”

  “Trust me,” I cut him off. “You do. And this is the very least I can do to repay that. Having your family in a safe place is going to bring you a little peace of mind, right?”

  He reluctantly nods. “Yeah, probably so.”

  “Then, it works in my favor because you'll be a little more clear headed and focused,” I say. “So, see? Not such an altruistic gesture after all.”

  A small smile tugs at the corners of his mouth and as Miguel looks at the deed in his hands, I see tears welling in his eyes. He quickly wipes them away and then looks up at me.

  “Thank you, Mr. Rossi,” he says. “I – I don't know how to repay –”

  “Just keep being good at what you do,” I say.

  “Count on it.”

  We stand and shake hands. The smile on his face is wide and the tears of happiness roll down his cheeks unabashedly.

  “I - I don't even know how I'm going to tell her,” he says, his eyes fixed on the paper in his hand.

  “Take the day,” I say. “Figure it out.”

  He nods and then looks at me again for a moment before pulling me into a manly, bone-crushing embrace and pounds me on the back with joy.

  “Thank you, Mr. Rossi,” he says. “I can't thank you enough.”

  “You're welcome,” I reply. “Now, go take care of your family.”

  I smile watching Miguel practically sprint out the door. I like trying to do some good where I can. Makes me feel like I can undo some of the pain and suffering my father caused. And as the head of one of New York's most ruthless crime families, he caused a lot of pain and suffering. I like to think that it's not because he was a bad or an evil man. He wasn't a cold-blooded killer who liked watching people suffer. But, he was definitely a bare-knuckled brawler when it came to business.

  I loved my father, don't get me wrong. But, being his only son and heir to his empire, my relationship with him was always – complicated. In many ways, I'm the man I am today because of him. I'm grateful for the many lessons he taught me and for the things I learned from him. Always will be.

  But, as I look at the picture of my mom, sister, and me again, I know that in all the important ways – the ways that matter to me, at any rate – I'm the man I am today because of those two remarkable women. They were always my moral compass. Always encouraged me to do the right thing – even if it meant butting heads with my father over it.

  It was my mom and sister who encouraged – practically forced, truth be told – me to go to college. To pursue my dreams. It was my mom and my sister who I credit with making me a half-way decent person.

  And I know in my heart of hearts that they would both be very happy with me dismantling my father's criminal empire piece by piece and replacing it with a legitimate one.

  My only wish was that they could both be here to see it. To share in it with me. But they were taken away from me far too soon. And for that, I have my father to blame. And it's the one thing I'll never, ever forgive him for.

  Chapter Seven

  Harper

  Manhattan

  “Wait, are you serious?” I ask.

  Landon nods. “Very,” he says. “If we want to get you in front of the right people and take your music to the next level, it's the smart play, Harp.”

  I sit back in my seat and pick at the sandwich in front of me. We're sitting in Vito's Deli – which is one of our favorite places to have lunch. It's crowded, as usual, and we'd had to wait almost half an hour to get a table. But, it's worth it. Vito's is amazing and has so many unusual food options – it's totally unlike anything I'd ever had back in Blackburn.

  “What about the showcase at The Grind, though?” I ask.

  “I mean, that's cool and all,” he says, “but that's small time, Harp. And we need to think bigger here. A lot bigger.”

  I'm reluctant to uproot my world again – especially, now that things seem like they're starting to head in the right direction for me. I mean, to give up a regular gig at a popular place like The Grind before I have my first show? I hate to even think about it. Especially when I feel like I'm just starting to feel like I'm making connections with an audience – building a fanbase.

  But, if Landon thinks it's a good idea, maybe I should listen to him. After all, he's never steered me wrong before. And he knows this business a lot better than I do.

  “Do you really think it's the best move?” I ask.

  He nods. “Absolutely,” he says. “Think about it for a minute, Harp. Hollywood is the entertainment capital of the world, right?”

  I shrug. “I guess so.”

  “Definitely so,” he says. “It's the epicenter for movies and music.”

  “There's a lot of music in New York too, though.”

  “Yeah, kinda,” he presses. “But New York isn't where all the big labels do business, Harp. That's in LA. You want to get in front of people who can take you to the next level, it's gonna be there.”

  On the one hand, I hate the idea of leaving New York. It's such a vibrant city that's just so full of life. You can always find something to do at any hour, day or not. There's always something going on. It's about the polar opposite of Blackburn and I absolutely love it here. It's everything I could have possibly wanted when I left home, everything I'd dreamed of – and then some.

  On the other hand, though, I can't deny that Los Angeles and Southern California, in general, has an appeal to it. The glitz and glamour of Hollywood is intriguing and alluring. I know that if you do want to make it in the entertainment business, it's the place you want to start. That's where all the big record labels and movie studios call home.

  But, the idea of having to start all over again, work from the ground up, just when I feel like we're starting to get off the ground here – it's a daunting feeling. And I'm not gonna lie, a little bit depressing. There is a buzz about me in Chelsea. Yeah, it's a small section of New York, but it's a start. In LA, there's absolutely zero buzz about me and going out there is going to put me back at square one.

  “You have doubts,” Landon says.

  I shrug and look away. Yeah, I'm having doubts. A lot of them. But I'm torn, simply because Landon has been so good to me and has helped me get started on my career. And he's always looking out for me. How can I say no to him?

  “Not doubts,” I say. “I just – I don't know, Landon. It just feels like things are starting to take off here and –”

  “No, you're right,' he says. “Things are starting to move. It's a little too slow for my liking and I think it'd move a hell of a lot faster in LA, but if you want to stay and keep workin' here, that's cool, Harp. We can do that. I don't want to force you into anything. I was just thinkin' out loud.”

  I see the look of disappointment on his face and it automatically makes me feel bad. I know he wants to help me get to the next level – and I know he wants to take his own career to the next level too. I realize, more than he thinks, that our relationship is a lot more symbiotic and mutually beneficial than he acknowledges.

  I know I'm naive when it comes to a lot of things, but I'm not stupid.

  At the same time, I can't deny all he's done for me. I've had more paying gigs since Landon found me than I'd ever been able to find on my own. And thing
s only seemed to be getting better on that front. And for that, I'm really grateful to him.

  Which makes this decision so difficult. I know his instincts tell him we need to get to LA if we want to get to the next level of our careers. And I trust his instincts. But, with things starting to get moving here, it's difficult to just turn my back on it and head west.

  But the last thing I want to do is disappoint Landon or let him down. Not after all he's done for me.

  “Do you really think this is the smart move?” I ask.

  He nods. “Personally, yeah I do. You gotta go where the action is,” he says. “But, I know this is your career we're talkin' about and you have to make the decisions you think are best. I ain't gonna pressure you one way or the other.”

  I sit there, picking at my sandwich, my mind gripped with indecision. It's such a drastic about-face from his position just the night before. He'd seemed so excited about getting me a showcase at The Grind – and now, he wants to just walk away from it. And I don't know why.

  “What's changed?” I asked. “I mean, you were so up on doing the showcase at The Grind, and now – you're saying we should go to LA. What changed, Landon?”

  He gives me a small smile. “I have a buddy out there,” he says. “A guy who knows people. Real connected cat. Well, I talked to him and he thinks he can get you in front of some very important people, Harp.”

  I feel my eyes widen as a jolt of electricity shoots through me. The idea that Landon could possibly get me in front of producers or record label executives – that changes things. That changes things a lot.

  “Why didn't you say that up front?” I ask, unable to keep the smile off my face or the excitement out of my voice.

  He shrugs. “Because nothing is guaranteed, Harp,” he says. “And I'd really hate for you to walk away from a sure thing like your showcase for the possibility of getting into the room with some people who can really make your career. The Grind is a guaranteed deal. This other thing – it's not.”

  “But you still think it's the right move,” I say.

  “Like I said, I personally do,” he replies. “I think the possibility of getting in front of those people – it's a gamble, yeah, but it has the potential to take you a lot higher than the showcase at The Grind.”

  I sit back in my seat and let it all run through my mind. The icy fist of indecision grips my mind and my heart even tighter than before. I remember him telling me once – a hundred times, actually – that when things happen, they happen fast and that I have to be ready for them. Have to be ready to pounce on any opportunity that comes my way.

  And I know I'm staring at one of those opportunities right now, and I'm terrified to do anything.

  “Listen,” he says. “It's probably a bad idea. I mean, you've got the showcase goin' for you. I'd hate for you to lose it for something that's not guaranteed.”

  “Let's do it,” I say, still not believing what I'm saying even as the words come out of my mouth.

  His eyes brighten a bit. “Yeah?” he asks. “You sure?”

  I nod. “You said I have to be willing to roll the dice, right?” I ask. “That I have to be willing to bet on myself?”

  “That I did,” he says. “Because it's a pretty damn safe bet.”

  I squeal and bounce in my seat, still not believing that I'm going to do something this reckless. This crazy. Something that's so unlike me. But then, leaving Blackburn to pursue my music in the first place had been reckless and crazy. And that seems to be turning out okay.

  “I can't believe it,” I say. “We're going to Hollywood.”

  “That we are, Harp,” he says. “And we're going to take this world by storm. Mark my words.”

  Chapter Eight

  Landon

  Manhattan

  There's a small barb of guilt that buried itself in my heart seeing how excited and hopeful Harper is. I hate the fact that I have to lie to her. I hate the fact that I'm gonna lose out on the gold mine she can be even more. She was my ticket to easy street. She was my ticket to bigger things and the good life.

  But, I don't have a choice – not if I want to keep breathin' anyway. Rossi's guys made it real clear that I need to get their money to them – and get it quickly. The problem is that most of my hustles are pretty small time. Enough to get me by – pay the bills, put food in my belly, and shit like that. I don't have anything goin' that can put that kinda cash in my pocket. And no prospects for big-time hustle either.

  Except for Harper. If I don't want to catch a couple of bullets to the back of the head, she's the one and only card I have to play.

  A few days after my “meeting” with Frank and Jimmy the stone giant, I called Marco Rossi to see if there was any way we could come to some sort of an arrangement. An arrangement that doesn't end up with me floating in the river.

  I'm sitting in a booth at the back of a bar with my stomach in knots, nursing a beer. It's a seedy dive bar in a rough neighborhood, but it's nothin' I'm not used to. I grew up in a rough neighborhood. Made my bones hustlin' for some of the big boys who ran their game out of joints even seedier than this.

  It's not the location that's got me worried. It's the man walking through the door – Marco Rossi.

  Five-foot-eight, with a pot belly, slicked back dark hair, a neatly trimmed goatee, and an expensive, well-tailored suit, Marco looks like the stereotypical, old-school mobster. It's an image he seems to cultivate. One he seems to relish.

  Close behind him are two of his goons – a pair that makes Jimmy the stone giant look small by comparison. Spotting me sitting in the booth, Marco says something to his men and walks toward me. A hush falls over the bar and everybody seems to be holding their breath until Marco and his men pass them. I even see a couple of the old guys genuflect when Marco walks by without even giving them a glance. Everybody knows Marco Rossi. Knows what he's capable of.

  And they're all terrified of him – with good reason.

  The Rossi family has a well-earned reputation for brutality. They're not people to screw with. I never would have gotten into bed with them if I'd had any other way to raise the money to get my club open. It was literally, my last resort. The last thing I ever wanted to do.

  But, I'd been so sure it would go over like gangbusters, so I made my deal with the devil. And now, after it flamed out and my club went to shit, I'm left holding the damn bag.

  “Marco,” I say. “Good to –”

  “Shut up,” he snaps as he takes a seat in the booth across from me.

  I take a sip of my beer to quench my suddenly parched throat and try to settle nerves that are stretched tighter than a drum. Marco's goons take a seat at a table near the booth, their eyes never leaving me. I can see the butt of the guns in their shoulder holsters peeking out from their jackets – not that they're making much of an effort to hide them. They don't really care – nobody's going to hassle them in this neighborhood. Not to mention the fact that they want me to see them – intimidation factor.

  And if I'm being honest, it's working.

  A waitress comes over, silently setting down a shot of tequila and a beer in front of Marco and then scampers away like she's on fire. Never taking his eyes off me, Marco downs the shot of tequila – sans salt and lime. After that, he takes a long pull of his beer, letting the silence between us linger.

  “So, I assume since I'm sitting here,” he says, setting his mug down, “that you have some good news for me.”

  I clear my throat and give him a small nod, feeling the sharp lump in my throat. What I'm about to agree to do is wrong on so many levels. It's evil. I know it is. But, it's the only way I'm going to get out of the hole I'm in. It's the only way I'm going to survive.

  And in the end, that's what this is all about. Survivin'. Livin' to hustle another day.

  At least, that's what I keep tellin' myself. On some level, I know I'm just trying to rationalize and justify what it is I'm doing. I know that Harper doesn't deserve this, but there's nothing I can do. I'm cau
ght between a rock and a hard place.

  It's a dog-eat-dog world and you gotta do what you gotta do if you want to survive. She's a strong girl. A smart girl. If anybody can come out of this on their own two feet, I know it's her.

  “Yeah,” I finally say. “I think we can work that out.”

  “Excellent,” he says. “I'm very happy to hear you say that.”

  I clear my throat and sit back in the booth, taking a long drink of my beer, still trying to settle my nerves. Marco also takes a long drink, his eyes never leaving mine. He knows I'm scared and he's enjoying the hell out of it. He enjoys seeing people squirm.

  “I just want to go over the terms of the deal again,” I say, trying like hell to keep my voice from shaking.

  Marco sighs and rolls his eyes dramatically. “Fine. You get the girl to LA and turn her over to my guy,” he says. “You get one hundred grand – sixty of which will go to pay off your debt to the Rossi family.”

  I know damn well they're going to get a hell of a lot more than a hundred g's for Harper. A twenty-year-old virgin that looks like her? She'll probably go for five times that amount. Easily. But then, I'm not in much of a position to negotiate. I've got no leverage. Nothing to bargain with.

  I suppose I should consider myself lucky that I'm going to get anything out of this deal at all other than saving my skin. Forty grand is a tidy sum and will set me up in a good position. It's gonna suck to have to start from square one again. I don't know when or if I'll find another talent like Harper. But, at least I'll be alive to try. That's gotta count for something.

  “And after that,” Marco says, leaning forward, his voice low and menacing, “I don't ever want to see your goddamn face again. You're banned from New York –”

  “Come on, Marco,” I say. “You can't ban me from the city.”