“Fuck. See that blue car?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s my friend, Detective Jennings. We didn’t say where we were meeting on the phone.”
“He must have followed you.” Testa shook his head. “He thinks you’re a weak link. You’re not. But he’s going to hound you.”
“I told him I wouldn’t show him anything unless he gets a warrant.”
“Need a judge to sign for a warrant,” Testa said with a flicker of a grin.
“I don’t have a fucking idea if my phones are clean.”
“Boss is assuming no one’s is. That’s why no one is talking right now.”
“Can you let him know about the possible warrant?”
Testa nodded. “Yeah. I’m pretty sure no judge will sign. Besides, your car became a torch yesterday. It’s going to be the size of a box by tonight.”
I sighed. “We’ve been talking about Angelina getting a new car for a while now.”
“Yeah, sorry about the accident. Fucking roads.”
I nodded and propitiated our story. “Glad you weren’t hurt.” It was then I noticed the bruises and cuts on his knuckles.
“A little banged up,” Testa said, flexing his fingers, “but no worse for wear.”
“I’m headed home. I fucking hope something breaks soon.”
“It broke. We just have to wait for the floodwaters to recede.”
“Are you going to tell me what that means?”
“That’s up to you.”
I looked him in the eye. “Is my family safe?”
He nodded. “All of them. Vincent is doing what needs to be done. Sometimes it’s hard when you look at a face day after day, year after year. You hear it talk. You get used to the way it sounds. You never suspect it’s out to get you. Vincent saw it. He tried to say something before, but he wasn’t in the position. Now he is. The boss’s letting him. As long as he stays low—Vincent’s in charge. He needs that right now to get everyone on board. Once the news floods the channels and the water recedes, then Vincent will step back. It’s not his time yet.” Testa nodded. “But he’s sure as hell showing that when it is, he’s ready.”
“I saw a picture of that kid.”
Testa’s lips came together before he said, “Damn shame. Too young to take his own life, but sometimes it’s the easier option.”
I laid a ten-dollar bill on the table to pay for my and Testa’s eighty-cent coffees and my four-dollar sandwich. I couldn’t eat even with it in front of me. “Fuck, I need to buy diapers.”
With a smile, Testa reached into his pocket and pulled out a list. I recognized Angelina’s writing. “The missus said to give this to you. I offered to do it, but I think she likes the idea of you doing it.”
Reaching for the paper, I shook my head.
Fucking life-and-death things were happening, and I was buying diapers, baby wipes, and whole milk. My blood pressure climbed as I read. There were more items. I’d volunteered for the job, yet I felt like a sap when the real men were fighting a fight I wasn’t privy to. It wasn’t that real men didn’t shop. It was that I knew there were bigger things happening.
A little while later, as I turned my shopping cart at the end of an aisle in the grocery store near my home, I came face-to-face with Detective Jennings. I shook my head. “I hope you’re enjoying your babysitting mission.”
“You didn’t finish your sandwich.”
“You need a more exciting life.”
“You’re driving a different car.”
I looked from side to side. “Apparently, my lawyer missed the memo of this meeting. We’ll need to postpone.”
“The car you’re driving...?”
My eyes opened wide, more in annoyance than question.
“I know it’s yours. I pulled up the registration. Where’s the one you drove the other night?” When I didn’t answer, he looked down into my cart. “Looks like you have more than three to feed.”
“You’re welcome to discuss my family’s diet with my attorney.”
“It could be so easy, Mr. Demetri. Talk to me.”
I winked. “It already is easy. Good day, Detective.”
Chapter 26
Sunday came with word to miss church. The unusual message was secondhand, but it was the only way any news came. While the children made do, Angelina and Bella were visibly shaken. Their concern extended beyond Carmine to everyone connected to the Costellos: cousins and friends who were like family.
Blood relatives and those made by blood.
We all knew in the depths of our hearts that what had occurred at Evviva’s wasn’t strictly the case of a rogue kid. There was an ambush planned. What we didn’t know was how deep it went.
“What would’ve happened if things had turned out differently in the alley?” Angelina asked late Sunday night as we both lay awake staring at the ceiling of our bedroom. It had been over three full days since the shooting. Bella and Luisa were asleep in one of the guest rooms and Luca was with Lennox. Our home was filled with family as Angelina had wanted, but the circumstances were nothing like we could have predicted.
I reached across the cool expanse of our king-sized bed for her hand. Under the covers, our fingers intertwined as we each rolled toward one another. Outside our home, rain pelted the windows and doors, the dropping temperature adding ice to the wintry mixture. With the wind howling off the water, the pinging precipitation echoed like gunfire against the glass.
Answering Angelina’s question wasn’t a conversation I relished having; nevertheless, I’d never sleep with the rapid-fire assault from Mother Nature. Now, with a rare reprieve from listening ears, was as good a time as any to finally tell my wife everything that I could.
With Angelina turned my way and me hers and our hands clenched, she waited for my answer. I searched for her blue eyes; however, in the darkness everything was shadowed in shades of gray.
After letting out a long breath, I began. “I don’t know what I can say.”
“I won’t say anything to Bella. I just feel so helpless here. The lack of information is killing me.”
“No, baby, you’re not helpless. You’re helping Vincent by keeping Bella and the kids busy. He knows they’re safe. He wouldn’t have had them brought here if he doubted that.”
“I know that. But the fact that he did worries me too. I’m scared about Uncle Carmine. Vincent didn’t send Bella there. She and I both wonder if it’s because Uncle Carmine is more injured than we’ve been told, and Aunt Rose needs to concentrate on him.”
I shrugged, pulling her hands as I moved. “I don’t think that’s it. I saw him walk up the stairs. I heard him talk. He told me what to do: not to come home yet, to go to the office and work. He didn’t explain, but I think that it was because my phone calls are traceable. He was getting me away from the scene and having me establish an alibi.”
“Did he tell you to shower?” There were so many layers to her simple question.
I lifted her hand to my lips, leaving a soft, lingering kiss on her knuckles. “I did something else that night that I didn’t tell you about, something I’m not proud of.”
“Oren, don’t. I don’t want to hear...” She tried to pull her hands away from mine as she began to turn, and her words faded into the roar of the outside winds.
“No, listen...” My eyes were more adjusted to the darkness, allowing me to see her clearer; her face was illuminated with slivers of the night’s light shining through our blinds. Against the white of the pillows, I could make out the curves of her face, her cheekbones, and the pout of her lips. Letting go of her hand, I secured a loose strand of silky brown hair behind her ear. “...please.”
Her fight lessened and body relaxed as she nodded.
“Everything happened so fast,” I began. “I told you that I was there at Evviva’s when it happened. I don’t think I saw Carmine struck by the bullet or him fall, but I saw the kid.” I rolled to my back, no longer willing to watch her emotions play out in her expressi
ons. Yet instead of seeing the ceiling high above me, I was recalling the scene from seventy-five hours ago. “Mio angelo, he was so young.”
“The one who shot Uncle Carmine?”
“Yes. The policeman who questioned me said he was nineteen.” I fought the emotion that I shouldn’t have, that I couldn’t show to my wife—that real men didn’t display. “I couldn’t help but think about Lennox. Fuck, the last seven years have flown by. We’re going to blink, and he and Luca will be that old.”
Angelina scooted closer until her head was on my shoulder, her soft hair flowing over my pillow. “It scares me too,” she whispered. “What did you do?” One of her arms went over my torso, her warmth giving me the comfort that I didn’t deserve as her petite frame spooned against mine.
“I pulled my gun, ready to take the kid down.” The reality ate at my soul. Shaking my head, I went on. “I’ve been places before...places where I knew what was happening. A long time ago, before we were married, Vincent had me drive him to this house in a run-down area. I can still see it in my mind. The house was falling apart, the gutters hung down, and the building was in need of paint.” I shook my head. “But you know what I always see when I remember that?”
“No...” Her voice was soft, an answer to my question without pulling me from the memory.
“There was a kid’s bike in the yard. I don’t know why I remember that, but I do.
“Vincent told me to stay in the car. That night, we’d been collecting family money. I hated doing it, mostly because it seemed to happen in the middle of the night when I wanted to be sleeping. I guess it was all part of letting me see more of the life. Anyway, I did as he said and stayed in the car. He never specifically said why we were there—I’d assumed collection, until I saw a flash through the window. I told myself later that it had been a TV or something.” My pulse increased as the memory became more vivid. “When Vincent came out, he looked exactly as he had when he went in. He was calm, like he’d just gone into a store and bought a pack of gum.
“His gun was concealed, but there was an odor. I smell it every time I go to the shooting range. It’s not strong, but it’s there, right after a gun fires.” They say sense of smell was the paramount one in the replaying of memories. I ran my fingers through Angelina’s hair. The aroma of hairspray, shampoo, and the faint sweetness of perfume reminded me that I was in bed with her, not sitting in my car in a driveway nearly ten years ago. “When I’m at the shooting range and I inhale that scent, my mind always goes back to that driveway, that flash, and Vincent getting back in the car.”
“You’ve never told me any of this.”
I shrugged, causing her head to bob. There were many things I’d never shared. “Anyway, I’m not unaware of what goes on, but seeing it all unfold and knowing that I could have pulled that trigger hit me hard.”
Angelina lifted her head, her gaze meeting mine. “Oren, did you shoot the kid?”
“No. The last time I saw him he was alive. He’d pissed himself because he was so scared, but he was alive. My thoughts weren’t really on the kid. I was too worried about Carmine—he’s the boss, but he’s more than that. I thought of you.”
“Me?”
“I didn’t want to tell you that your uncle was dead.” I took a deep breath. “Stefano and Jimmy were outside with those soldiers—fucking traitors. Vincent yelled for a car. That’s when I told Testa to go get mine. Carmine needed to get out of there. I think Vincent was also calling for Stefano or Jimmy. Like I told you, it was all happening at once.
“The alley. I don’t even know what happened except if those traitors had made it through Jimmy and Stefano, well, I’m not sure who would still be standing. Jimmy came back inside. He didn’t say a word about the ambush. He was only worried about Carmine. And then Testa came back with the car. We got Carmine out.” I shook my head recalling the scene. “Jimmy’s an ox. He lifted your uncle like he was Luisa.”
I rolled toward my wife. “After I learned about the bulletproof vest and after Carmine and Jimmy got out of the car...” I closed my eyes.
Angelina’s warm hand came to my cheek. “What happened?”
When my eyes opened, her face was blurry. I tried to blink her into focus, ignoring the moisture leaking from my eyes. “I told Testa to pull over...because...I lost it. I reacted like a fucking baby. I vomited in the damn gutter.”
Her lips came to mine. This time I pulled away. “Don’t you see? I’m not who they think. I’m not who you think I am.”
“You are who I think you are. You’re better than that.”
Turning away again, I faced the ceiling and lifted my free arm to cover my eyes. “My suit had blood on it. Jimmy touched my shoulder, and then I helped undo Carmine’s buttons, Jimmy’s and my hands working together. Blood from his hands got on my hands. I’m probably the reason there was more on my clothes. And then there was the fucking throw-up. Shit splattered against the cement. I brushed my teeth until my gums bled. I couldn’t get the damn taste out of my mouth.”
My wife sat over me, her hair a veil shielding us from the wintry storm. She lifted my arm away, forcing me to look at her, to show her my shame.
“Oren Demetri, if I’d wanted to marry a man who could walk out of a building without a care in the world after shooting someone, believe me, I had my choice. I wanted to marry you.”
“Why?” I asked in earnest.
“Because I loved you. I do. I have since you were a tongue-tied boy in my English class.” Kisses peppered my cheeks. “I still love you,” she said.
“Boy?” I thought of Lorenzo. “Here I thought I was a man.”
Her head shook. “Now you’re a man. And no longer tongue-tied.”
This time I framed her face, my palms on each side until our eyes met. “No other woman has ever caused me to be tongue-tied.”
“And no other man has had my heart.”
As she continued to kiss me, her hands on my shoulders, her body against mine, a wave washed through me, giving my soul purpose. Whatever this flood was, it filled my bloodstream with a need to move beyond what had happened and a desire to show my wife that she’d married the right man. Reaching for her waist, I rolled until she was the one on her back, her blue eyes staring at me, her beautiful face surrounded by a halo of hair. My body covered hers. “You love me?”
She nodded.
“More than you hate me?” My body hardened as she wiggled beneath me.
“Right now.”
“I’ll take that.”
With the wind and ice roaring beyond our windows, Angelina and I came together in a way such as we hadn’t in a while. It wasn’t that our marriage was without sex. It was that sometimes it became mechanical. This was different. The tension of the last few days fueled our desire—our need—to connect. The heat of our union reignited a flame that life, snow, and death somehow hadn’t completely extinguished. Momentarily, the world beyond our bedroom was gone. I wasn’t the man who’d gotten ill at the sight of blood and bodies. She wasn’t the woman who reacted with constant suspicion and discontent. Together we were one fire, one flame, burning out of control, each of us finding release and pleasure in the one person we loved, needed, and trusted with our secrets and shame.
We both gave what we could, each accepting what was given.
Without the other, our fire would extinguish, but together we could keep it alive.
Chapter 27
The pieces made sense: the debt the kid Lorenzo had tried to pay was his father’s. However, I still wasn’t seeing the whole picture—or perhaps I didn’t want to see it. The story finally became clear a week later, after seven days of family togetherness. We’d feigned a nasty stomach bug with Lennox’s school. Angelina had gone to pick up his schoolwork. I wasn’t sure what important study a second grader needed to accomplish, nevertheless, she brought home books and notebooks. No matter what the nuns deemed crucial to his education, neither Angelina nor I wanted him out of the house even in Rye.
I didn
’t know what excuse Bella had given the parish school in Brooklyn. It didn’t matter. According to Vincent—through Testa—his family was not to be seen outside of our home. That was, until Testa arrived Thursday evening with a nice new minivan. In all the uproar, I’d forgotten about his assignment to purchase Angelina a new car. My old one was now reduced to rubble, hopefully buried and at the bottom of a trash heap.
However Angelina had not forgotten that she had a new car coming. Upon seeing the minivan in the driveway, she unequivocally stated her disapproval. “I will not drive that. You need at least three children to drive one of those ugly things.”
When Testa entered the house, I tried to break the news in a gentler way. “I thought we talked about sedans?”
Angelina’s stare relayed her discontent even though she’d only verbally shared it with me.
Testa grinned. “It’s just a test drive, ma’am.”
“A test drive?” I asked.
He nodded. “It seats seven. Room for all of us.”
Bella jumped up from the sitting room where she’d been pretending to read one of Angelina’s magazines. “All of us? Does that mean me too?”
“Yes, Mrs. Costello. Your husband and father-in-law are waiting.”
Her wide eyes met Angelina’s as they filled with tears, and the two women came together. “I’m going home.”
Angelina nodded as she hugged Bella.
Contemplating the idea of all seven of us in the same vehicle, I said, “I’m driving.”
My declaration was met with multiple sets of suspiciously narrowed eyes. I’d been responsible for Angelina for nearly nine years and Lennox since he was born. Vincent had entrusted Bella, Luca, and Luisa to me for a week. I trusted Testa, but nothing since the shooting felt right.
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