My Life for Yours

by Margaret McHeyzer

  Marko’s in the limo waiting for me when I emerge from Jeremy's house, with no words or instructions to him he simply starts driving home. I don't ask Marko anything about the bombing because I suspect he wouldn't know.

  When we reach home, everything from the outside looks normal, other than the extra security G must have put in place.

  When I get to the front door, G swings it open and steps aside. He takes in my attire and lifts both his eyebrows at me.

  "Good night, Frankie?"

  "Let's just say the boy redeemed himself."

  "What happened with the mother?" G growls out the last two words.

  "She's a piece of shit, G, doesn't give a damn about Jeremy, she didn't hide the fact that she’s going to keep pursuing this until we pay her. But we're not giving her a damn cent." I look around the house and go towards my office. G follows intently as I look around. "What bombing are you talking about, G?"

  "Moonrise. Early this morning. Hit with Molotov cocktails."

  "The fuck?" My mouth falls open.

  "Three through the front windows. The Chef was out the back preparing for the day. She called it through to me. I called it through to you."

  "Have you got any suspicions, G?" I take a deep breath.

  "Now that you told me about the mother, I think it’s her."

  We both sit down, me in my office chair, G, in the chair opposite me, he swings one leg up over the other, resting his ankle on his knee and reclines back.

  "I doubt it, I think she'll come at us head on. The cocktails were a warning. Have we had any issues with other families that I may not know about?"

  "Frankie, we got nothing going on with anyone. Boston's ours, no word on anyone trying to force us out of anything."

  "Christine alright?"

  "Who the fuck’s Christine?"

  "The chef, G."

  "Yeah just shaken, she's not hurt."

  "Let’s go access the damage." We both stand and start walking out of my office.

  "Um, you may want to change out of that, Frankie."

  I look down and see I’m still in The Senator’s clothes.

  "I’ll be back in a minute." Running upstairs, I throw on jeans, a tee shirt and runners.

  Once we start heading towards the restaurant, G starts his speculations.

  "I think it’s someone out to hurt us, Frank."

  "Clearly, you sure there's no word on the street, no issues? I mean this shit doesn’t come out of nowhere?"

  "Fuck me, your ear is as close to the ground as mine. Have you heard anything?"

  I shake my head no and turn to look out the window. Marko pulls up near the restaurant, it’s taped off and there's no front to the restaurant. I mean, there’s a huge hole where there should be doors and windows. Just looking at it from outside I notice the buildings on either side have sustained little damage, this was definitely a deliberate attack on my restaurant and on me.

  "Step up security at the brothels and at all the refuges and make sure none of the runners do any work on their own." I instruct G as he’s already got his phone out giving very clear instructions.

  The police are here and the chief walks over to us as we make the necessary arrangements to protect everything else we have. Chief Robert Simmons is on my take and one of my best informants.

  "Frankie, what the hell’s going on here?" Robert asks in hushed tones.

  "If I had a damn idea, we wouldn't be standing here discussing it, I’d be taking care of it."

  "Look I need to warn you about something." Robert puts his hand to my lower back and leads me away from ears that may be listening. Robert’s in his late fifties, completely bald, wears glasses and is a little on the pudgy side. His third wife took him to the cleaners when they got divorced and his first wife took him for child support. His second wife died in a car accident and was the only decent one out of all three women. Robert now gives us information that we at times require, in exchange for a tidy amount of money that neither his first or third wife can extract from him. "Last night we had a few of the runners from the other side turn up dead. Not your crew, but Miloni's gang."

  Peter Miloni, another pain in the arse. His family and my family were tight growing up, until Peter's father, Peter Senior decided to screw my father over and try to take our business. A few words, some bullets, and a limp later, Peter Senior declared war on our family. He couldn’t just leave it alone. Dad killed Peter Senior soon after the declaration, but his son has always vowed to take what we've worked for.

  "Get me a sit down with Miloni," I whisper to G.

  "If his crew’s turning up dead, Frankie, he may not be the one who targeted you," G’s clearly worried about all this bullshit, too.

  "Miloni would take out his own flesh to get to me, you know he's fucking crazy. The drugs have screwed his brain up but it’s the power that he wants, that’s driving him."

  G walks away as he retrieves his phone. In hushed tones, I suspect he's organising a sit down with Miloni.

  Minutes later, as I'm standing outside the restaurant, G walks over and quietly informs me Miloni will meet with me in three hours.

  In three hours I’ll come prepared for war with a truly deranged man.

  Chapter 13

  Standing in the boatshed at the dock, I look around and know full well why Miloni picked this location. First it's quiet, second there's limited opportunities to escape and third, no one can hear you scream. But what Miloni doesn’t know is that the boatshed isn’t on mutual territory, I own it.

  I've bought my security and know I’ll be well looked after. G and I both await the tosser to arrive but I’m also under no illusion of how dangerous he can be. I've known for a while that Miloni likes his drugs, ice, to be exact and ice makes people completely irrational. So I know this meeting can go badly, but I’m hoping for the best.

  I hear the rumble of a large car approaching; Miloni’s an idiot, showing up with an entourage of idiots. Being a Mob Boss comes with its own set of crucible boiling points. Being escorted by followers who don't blend in, are loud and obnoxious just draws attention to yourself. To the point that anyone wanting to take you down can easily see your weak and disadvantaged areas, I travel with a very well trained group of security. Looking around you may see three or four of them but there're always more hiding and blending in so you'd have no idea who or how many were around.

  With Miloni, you can always see the usual defective pinheads who travel in packs to give the illusion of force. It'll only be a matter of time before I take him down, up until now I hadn't really bothered with him, thinking that drugs would eventually claim his life. I'll reassess that after this meeting and see where I stand and if it’s worth me taking him out or if he'll end up wiping himself out.

  The SUV roars along as it comes into sight, another two follow behind the lead car and the three park in a perfect straight-line formation. Another idiot move, boxing in the middle car and not turning the cars to face the way they came in order for a possible quick getaway. A few of my men are set up around the boat shed, if I go down, then Miloni will, too.

  G and I stand shoulder to shoulder as I wait for Miloni to exit the vehicle.

  The door to the middle SUV opens and out steps Miloni, his frame skinny, too skinny, his face sunken in, his hair greasy and straggly and his suit falling off him. As he approaches me and is only a few steps away, I notice his face is filled with pocks, his eyes have black circles around them and he's jumpy and darting his eyes around looking like a cornered wounded animal.

  "The fuck you want, DeLuca?" His voice broken and scratchy.

  "Miloni," I greet him extending my arm out to him for a handshake. He looks down at my hand and smirks but doesn't take it.

  "Why you called this?"

  "Tell me why you bombed my restaurant?"

  "Fuck off bitch, I didn't bomb no restaurant of yours. You’re the fucking cunt that took me men out."

  What the fuck?

  "Miloni, I haven't touched your
men. I'm not after you." Yet.

  "I know it was you, DeLuca, my people saw your people. That fucker standing next to ya took out my boys."

  "You really are a wanker." G says as he turns his back and walks a few steps away. I can tell by G's stance, he's finding it hard to control himself and not kill Miloni right now.

  "You fucks. You wanna fuck me over, you wanna do that? I'll fucking kill all of yous."

  "Stop inhaling your damn brain away, Miloni, it’s turning into pure mush. Try and retain the tiny sliver you have left." My arms come up and cross in front of me, a defensive yet assertive position as my legs stand hip width apart, I tilt my chin up and my shoulders back, giving Miloni the demeanour of total control and power of this situation.

  "Frankie this is bullshit, you've been trying to get me for years. Since your father carked it. Useless dick he was."

  My fists tighten and I catch a glimpse of G charging towards Miloni, but we need to keep our heads here and not kill him yet, because we need to find who's bombed us and trying to eradicate us. If we kill Peter now, that could start an unnecessary war; I look at G and flick a small shake of my head to him. G stops before he lands on Miloni, effectively going to kill him with his bare hands.

  "You say you didn't do this, Miloni, I'm telling you, if I find out you did I'm going..."

  "What the fuck’s a chick gonna do to me? You got a cunt, DeLuca, cunts are only good for fucking." He laughs.

  I let my hands drop by my side and slowly stroll over to Miloni, his eyes widen and he takes a small step back, obviously he's quite intimidated by me. With a small hand gesture, I keep all my security in place. As I approach Miloni I can smell the rotting and putrid odour radiating from his clothes and his paper-thin translucent drug soaked skin.

  "If I find out you're behind this or any other attack against me, Peter, I'm gonna fucking kill your mother. I'm gonna take her, and I’m gonna let every one of my boys to fuck the hell out of any hole they wanna stick their dicks or anything else they want in her, then I’m gonna let G and his hunting knife gut her from her cunt all the way up to her fucking navel. Just when she's begging me for mercy, I’ll fucking bathe her in gasoline and let the liquid start to eat at her skin, when there’s nothing but flesh left I’ll set fire to her. All as I'm fucking sitting back recording it. But don't worry, Peter, I’ll be sure to have it playing for you as I cuff you to a fucking chair, nail your eyes lids open to your head, so you can watch it on replay. Then I might just kill you, that's if you're lucky and only if I'm feeling generous," my voice not wavering, I've got a steady and deadly tone as I look him straight in the eyes.

  "Leave my mother out of it." His words low, his breath hitched and his chest rising and falling rapidly.

  "Cunts are only good for fucking. Try to fuck with me, Miloni and see what this cunt’s capable of doing."

  "I'll fucking kill you."

  "Damn well try, you washed up junkie."

  Miloni starts retreating in his steps. He licks his bottom lip as his face scowls towards me. He snaps his fingers and his ill formed hired help falls back into the SUV's. With a roar of the engines they came in, with a tail between their legs they leave.

  "Step up security, keep a tight eye on that piece of shit. He didn't do this but that now leaves us with the unknown, G."

  We head back to our cars and I slide into the back seat as G takes his place by my side.

  “Now we’ve got a fucking problem on our hands. Miloni didn’t attack us, and we didn’t attack him, which means someone’s trying to get us to wipe each other out. We’ve got a new player on the streets.”

  “Yep, that we do.” G’s answers with a grumble.

  Chapter 14

  Arriving back home G and I head into my office. We aren’t there long when there’s a buzz from the front gates.

  “Miss DeLuca, there’s a flower delivery here for you. It’s the same florist as last time.”

  I look around my office that still has vases and vases of flowers strewn around. The flowers are still fragrant and in full bloom, so I hope that Jeremy hasn’t gone and emptied another florist to fill my office up again.

  “I’ll go, Frankie.” G stands and heads out to collect them. Moments later G returns with one bunch of black roses wrapped in black transparent cellophane.

  “What the hell’s that?” I ask as I sit back in my chair and steeple my hands together under my chin.

  “Looks like The Senator wasn’t that happy with your performance last night, Frankie.” G chuckles as he hands me the flowers that has an envelope pinned to the outside of it.

  “Something’s not right with this, G,” the hairs on my arms stand to attention, an icy chill snakes its way down my back and a heavy lump’s sitting in my throat. “Something feels off.”

  G snatches the flowers back before I have a chance to open the envelope.

  “What are you thinking, Frankie?”

  “This isn’t from Jeremy. I can feel it, G, this is fucked. One bunch of black roses straight after Moonrise was bombed? I mean that shit stinks to me.” I pick the phone up and dial Jeremy’s number.

  “Who’re you calling?”

  “Jeremy. I need to make sure he’s alright.”

  The phone rings.

  And rings.

  And rings.

  And goes through to voicemail. ‘Leave a message’ is all I hear of Jeremy’s voice.

  “Shit,” I breathe out. Automatically my mind starts to filter all the good and go directly to the bad and possibly even deadly scenarios that may be taking place. “Send security over to Jeremy’s, make sure he’s got a detail on him at all times.”

  G’s talking into his phone, shooting instructions out to security about getting over to Jeremy’s and the specifics of a protection detail.

  I try The Senator’s phone again.

  It rings.

  And rings.

  And like a few moments ago, it goes through to voicemail.

  “Fuck!” I yell and throw the phone, watching it hit the wall and smash into smithereens.

  G gets up, walks over to the cabinet, opens it and gets a new phone box out. He picks up the destroyed body and takes the sim card out. I’m pacing around my office as G prepares my new phone.

  “What’s the deal with you and this Senator? You were supposed to show his lecherous mother you could get to anyone, have your fun with him then fuck him off. What happened in the meantime, Frankie? You like him?”

  “He’s alright.” I casually shrug trying to down play any emotions I have for him.

  “Don’t even try and bullshit me, I’ve been here since the day you were born, I can read you like an unlocked fucking kindle. What’s going on with him and you?”

  “He’s alright, okay?!”

  “No it’s not okay, Frank. It’s not okay if he’s a potential threat to you and to us. It’s not fucking okay if you start chasing him around like a bitch on heat. So tell me now so we can prepare for whatever the fuck’s coming after us, so that he’s not gonna end up being used as bait, and so he doesn’t end up as collateral damage.” G’s angry but he continues preparing my new phone.

  “I like him, G, he’s different.”

  “Different how?”

  “He challenges me, he pushes me, he infuriates the hell out of me, he excites me and most of all he sees past all this bullshit and just sees me.” I wave my hand around the room, indicating all the Mob crap that’s attached to our lifestyle.

  “You’ve fucked him, Frankie, he should be out of you system by now.” G walks over and hands me the new phone.

  “Do you know what he said to me when we had that picnic the other night?”

  G shrugs his shoulders and shakes his head. “Tell me.”

  “He said at some stage he knows that either or both of us are going to have to sacrifice something for the other, and he pretty much made it clear that it’s likely going to be him. Who the hell says shit like that, G? I mean, I can destroy him so easily and he’s aware
of that, but he’s willing to see past all the crap just so he can be with me. So yeah, I like him. I think he’s amazing and damn gutsy and he’s got a back bone to keep resisting all the bitchiness that comes with me.”

  “Well if that’s the case, Frankie, that security team better get over there quick smart.”

  “Yep. Now let’s open this letter attached to these damn flowers.”

  “Wait, gloves. You don’t know what’s in there.”

  G leaves the room and comes back a few minutes later with two pairs of disposable gloves.

  Putting them on, we stand over the flowers looking at them like death’s in the envelope, waiting for us to open it so it can claim both our lives.

  My heart’s beating rapidly and I look over to G who’s picked the envelope up and puts it on the desk. We look at the front and my name’s written in black pen. It looks like it’s been written by a six year old, there’s a capital F but the rest is scrawled in almost illegible writing. G flips the envelope over, exposing the back of it. It’s not licked down, the flap’s left open and free. G opens the top, exposing a white piece of paper folded inside the standard white envelope. He slides the paper out and unfolds it and the writing’s exactly the same as the penmanship on the front.