Retaliatory Justice

by Tawa M. Witko

  “If he had the place under surveillance then why’d he seem so surprised that you’d been out there?” Clayton asks.

  “I don’t know,” I tap my fingers nervously on the desk. “Something’s off with him.”

  “Something’s off about the whole damn case,” Zach replies.

  “What’s the plan?” Michelle asks and then motions with her thumb towards the door. “And please tell me we are not working with him.”

  “Do you know him, Michelle?” I ask.

  She shakes her head. “I didn’t work with any ATF agents while in New York. I was deep undercover. Hell, they had to kill me off so that I could leave.”

  I lean back and cross my arms. “Let’s keep everything to ourselves for now,” I say as I look at them all. “We can’t trust anyone that isn’t in this room. Agreed?”

  Agreed,” they all reply in unison.

  We need to be really careful. This Adams guy is lying, either about having the restaurant under surveillance or about not being aware I was there. I personally believe it is the surveillance piece as I was around that restaurant all day and didn’t see anyone and I would have. So what does he have to gain by lying about that?

  July 10th

  I wash my hands over my face as I wait. It’s been a little over a week since I left New Orleans. I feel like continuous roadblocks keep popping up in this investigation. No one is talking to us. We keep getting shut down left and right. It’s as if everyone is one step ahead of us. I need to get back to New Orleans. I need to get in that restaurant, I need to get to … Dominique.

  “What are you thinking about?” Kailee asks, sitting down and startling me.

  “Shit,” I blurt out surprised and see her arch her brow at me.

  “Who is she?”

  “Who is who?” I ask dumbly.

  “Don’t be a jerk, Valentino,” she says, placing her napkin on her lap and ordering a drink. Once the waitress is gone, she eyes me. “You have that confused look on your face, and since you would never call me to talk about work, it has to be a woman.”

  “This stays with us,” I say, leaning across the table and whispering.

  She rolls her eyes. “Who am I going to tell?”

  I sit up and frown. “Clayton, Joseph, Lynelle.”

  “All right, all right. I cross my heart.” She crosses her finger over her heart and I shake my head, not amused.

  I sigh and begin telling her all about Dominique. I go into detail about how I had bumped into her at the restaurant and then later on at the bar as well. She audibly gasps when I tell her Dominique had spent the night with me. I generally don’t talk to her about the women I have sex with, and I haven’t dated anyone since high school so this is all new to me, but I can’t seem to get Dominique out of my head. I see her everywhere and I thought, Kailee is a chick so she could probably help me deal with this scenario. When I’m finally done, she is covering her mouth and now I’m really confused because her eyes are wet.

  “What the hell. Kailee are you… crying?” I ask stupefied.

  “Shut up, I’m so happy for you.”

  “Happy about what? That I met someone? That karma bit me in the butt? What? Please tell me because I’m confused.”

  “Valentino, stop being dramatic,” she says coolly, dabbing her eyes. “Yes, this Dominique schooled you, but maybe you needed that. Why don’t you try to call her? It’s not like you can’t figure out how to find her.”

  “Wait, are you telling me that you want me to use government resources to spy on some girl I had a one night stand with?”

  She shrugs and takes a sip of her Cosmo. “Why not?”

  I stare at her perplexed. It’s not like I haven’t thought about that myself, but that would be somewhat stalkerish, I think. Plus, what am I supposed to say once I find her, ‘hey, ya wanna hook up again 'cause I can’t stop thinking about you?’ Yeah right, I would never do that. It’s better this way, no complications, for either of us.

  “Valentino, I have never seen you more out of sync than I do right now. This girl has gotten under your skin. That doesn’t go away with distance. And sure, you could go back to banging girls in bars, but that won’t make her go away either,” she frowns and smacks my hand on the table.

  “What’d you do that for?”

  “You haven’t already screwed someone else have you?” she whisper-shouts.

  “Lower your voice.” I look around and see someone looking our way and then they turn quickly. “No, I haven’t.”

  “Find her, Valentino. What’s the worst that can happen? She tells you to screw off, well then at least you know. But, to be perfectly honest, I’m grateful for her because she did overnight what none of us have been able to do in six years.”

  “What’s that?” I ask but I’m almost afraid to hear the answer.

  She reaches over the table and grabs my hands in hers. “She showed you that you can still feel something in here,” she says reaching her hand out to touch my heart. “And she showed me that my best friend is not dead inside. Please, Valentino. Go for it. Do whatever it takes to continue to feel something. Anything is better than what you’re doing now.”

  “I have to go,” I say suddenly as I stand.

  She breathes in and nods. “I love you, Tino.”

  I cringe at first. She and Claire were the only ones that ever called me that, and after the accident six years ago, Kailee stopped using it all together because she knew it hurt me to hear it. I sigh slightly and walk over to her, kissing her on the forehead.

  “I love you, too, Kailee.”

  As I’m walking away, I can hear her crying again.

  14 Unsettled

  Dominique Walker

  July 10th

  I step into the restaurant a little after lunch, as I am feeling antsy. It’s been a week since I met Valentino, and I know it’s stupid, but I have dreamt about him every night and, unfortunately, he has invaded my waking thoughts as well. I needed to stop thinking about him so I decided that I would come in and play around in the kitchen. Do some experimenting and come up with a unique dish I can use in the feature later this week. I hear motion coming from the back so I decide to check it out. There is usually no one here on Mondays.

  “That’s the last of them,” I hear Whitney say.

  “Are there any questions about what you need to do?” Phillipe asks.

  “Is there any question about what you need to do?” Marshall counters.

  “I’m getting tired of your attitude,” Phillipe seethes. “Do you know what needs to happen or not?”

  “Yes, of course I do.”

  I turn quickly and my shoes squeak. I take a deep breath and start walking towards them since its obvious someone is in the hall I figure it’s probably better they see me coming then see me sneaking away. I jump as Marshall and Whitney meet me at the door.

  “Oh God! I’m sorry,” I say shocked, hoping they buy it. “Usually no one is here this early.”

  “What are you doing here?” Whitney hisses out.

  “The Bon Appetit feature is later this week. I was going to play with some ideas I had, see how they panned out.” I glance at Phillipe, hoping he will intervene, but he is looking at the ground, frowning.

  “Whitney, darling,” Marshall says, touching her back softly. “Can you make sure we have everything ready to go?”

  She eyes him for a moment and then nods, turning on her heels. He walks close to me, too close for my comfort and I immediately step back slightly as he grins.

  “You’re welcome to anything you want, Dominique,” he says in a low and husky voice.

  I glance towards Phillipe, whose head shoots up. “Marshall, you should leave soon if you are going to make it there on time.”

  Marshall smirks at me and, once again, my insides start doing backflips. He then turns and heads over to the crate that Phillipe is at. They exchange a look and Phillipe glances at me. He offers me a small smile before walking in my direction. Great, now what? He places h
is hand on my shoulder and turns me around as he leads me into the hallway, not taking his hand off my shoulder.

  “We were doing some inventory, Dominique. If you could give us a couple more minutes, then you will be free to get anything you like.”

  I nod.

  “Good,” he says with a smile and turns back around.

  I am so screwed. I need to get the hell out of here. I glance back and don’t see him anymore so I make a mad dash into the kitchen, grab my bag, and just as I get to the door, I hear footsteps approaching. A hand reaches out for me and I scream.

  “Dominique, I won’t hurt you,” Phillipe says softly.

  I am breathing hard and his hand is still gripping my shoulder.

  “Maybe we should talk,” he says kindly.

  I need answers but I don’t trust Marshall or Whitney. “Not here, somewhere else,” I pause for a moment. “Night Hawks, across the street.”

  “All right.”

  He comes to my side, still holding on to my shoulder. I don’t know why. Maybe he is worried I am going to run away. I almost laugh because that thought does cross my mind as we enter the intersection. Once inside Night Hawks, we head over to a small booth in the corner, away from the few people in the joint so early. They open at one in the afternoon and usually there aren’t very many people around but today there is a bartender, a waitresses and a few patrons milling about. That’s a good thing, at least I will have some witnesses.

  “Do you want a drink, Dominique?” Phillipe asks as we sit down.

  I shake my head and he sighs. He waves the waitress over and orders a drink and as I look at the bar my body flushes from the memories of Valentino. I wonder what he’s doing. I blink and try to get him out of my head because I have bigger issues to deal with at the moment than daydreaming about a man I really know nothing about. The waitress sets Phillipe’s drink in front of him and walks away but I’m still not looking in his direction.

  “So, tell me, Dominique, what is it that has you so upset?” He asks with such casualness that it startles me. Is he serious?

  I turn to him and I know I am frowning. “What has me upset? That’s what you’re asking me?” I try not to sound angry but I know that I do.

  He smiles. “No need to raise your voice, Dominique. I can hear you just fine.”

  “I won’t be involved in any illegal activities,” I blurt out.

  His features change slightly and then he smiles wide. “What on earth are you talking about?”

  I lean back and my hand goes to my hair. I begin to fiddle with one of my braids. “The cash, the suspicious way that the three of you act, the fact that I’m not allowed ordering privileges for the restaurant. I have watched enough detective shows to know that something is not right.”

  He doesn’t even try to hide his amusement at my comments. He laughs heartedly and takes a sip of his drink, smiling and shaking his head as if he is talking to an insane person. I narrow my eyes at him and then rise from my seat.

  “I quit,” I state forcefully.

  He stops laughing and his hand goes on top of mine. “Sit, Dominique. Let’s talk about this,” he gives me a thoughtful look. “Please.”

  I hesitantly sit back down, crossing my arms over my chest. He takes a deep breath and looks at his drink as if the answers lie there. When his eyes meet mine, they are soft and caring. I relax my posture and try to soften my expression as well.

  “I want to know the truth about what’s going on.”

  He nods. “You’re entitled to it.”

  “Will you tell me what’s going on?”

  He takes a sip of his gin and places the glass on the table. “The money you saw was part of an inheritance I received from my late grandfather. We have used it as the startup capital for the restaurant. We generally keep money on hand just in case of emergencies but not usually that much. The day after you left my office I deposited most of that in the bank. That safe is almost empty. I could show you if you’d like.” I shake my head and he nods, continuing. “As far as Marshall and Whitney, they have always been suspicious of everyone. They lack trust in general and tend to be very paranoid.” He smirks slightly and before I can wonder further he chuckles softly as if he is remembering something. He then gives me a reassuring smile. “I do apologize for the ordering. I know that is a difficult line for you to tow but it is only because I need to keep strict control of the money and everything that goes in and out of the restaurant. It’s not you. It would be the case with anyone.”

  I stare at him, trying to absorb everything he has said. It makes sense to a certain degree but… if it’s so legit why am I still feeling nervous and anxious about the whole thing? And Marshall and Whitney are the epitome of crazy. I feel his hand touch my hand softly.

  “Dominique, I promise, you are not involved in anything illegal. Will you please stay on?” He asks with a warm smile. “You are the reason the restaurant is a success and that Bon Appetit is coming. I’d hate to lose you on the cusp of so many wonderful things.”

  I stare at him, trying to decide. My gut tells me to get the heck out of there as fast as I can, but the selfish and crazy part of my brain says he’s right. I would be stupid to leave before all these wonderful things happen. I nod hesitantly. He smiles happily and I notice that he is now fiddling with his unusual tie clip.

  “What does that mean?” I ask as I motion to his hand.

  He looks down at what he’s doing and grins. “It’s a symbol for my family. It is sort of a talisman, so to speak.” He leans over the table, looking both ways before smirking at me. “It keeps the bad guys away.”

  I scrunch my brows together. What the heck does that mean? He chuckles again as he sits back up, finishing off his drink. His phone buzzes and he reads the message, sobering up quickly. He lets out a frustrated sigh and closes his eyes momentarily. When they open again, they are dark and serious.

  “Can I walk you back to the restaurant?”

  I sigh and stand. “Sure.”

  I am still not completely comfortable with everything going on, but Phillipe’s explanation seems somewhat plausible. Maybe I am being paranoid, maybe nothing is going on and I have watched way too many episodes of CSI and Criminal Minds or maybe my father’s general paranoia of all things conspiracy has rubbed off more than I would like to admit. I will keep my distance and do my thing, making sure to stay clear of the creepy co-owners while I try to establish myself as one of the premiere chefs in New Orleans.

  July 24th

  The next few weeks seemed to be business as usual. The people from Bon Appetit came and interviewed Phillipe; thankfully Marshall and Whitney were gone. Then I cooked for them, making New Orleans crab cakes with Panko crusted crab, creole tomato olive relish, micro arugula, and smoked paprika tartar sauce. It’s one of my specialties that they inhaled on the spot. For their entrée, I served them my Pompano Napoleon. I love pompano. It’s such a full-bodied fish and when it’s served right it is simply exquisite. I seasoned it with my homemade creole seasoning and then pan seared it in a cast iron skillet with white shrimp, harvested scallops, and a creole mustard-caper sauce and then served it with quick steamed asparagus. For dessert they were treated to my Crepes Le Creole. I spend a great deal of time making my crepes and roll them with a cream cheese and brandy pecan stuffing and serve them in a fresh strawberry sauce with homemade whipped cream. They loved it all and took a lot of pictures. They interviewed me afterwards and seemed very impressed with the fact that I had no formal training but could manage my way around a kitchen as well as any other trained chef could. In the end, they said they would be giving us a rave review. I can’t wait to get the issue next month.

  I wish I could say that my dreams of Valentino have diminished, but they haven’t. If anything, they have become more vivid. I haven’t said anything to Santiago about this as I don’t want him to know that I have gone gaga over a man I had a one night stand with. I never even got his last name or anything. He told me very little about himself.
That should have been my first clue. But I guess my struggle was, while we were together he seemed so… normal and I figured I would have time to get to know him. My body still tingles whenever I think about how it felt to make love to him. God! He was perfect and the way he kissed me. I’ve never been kissed so passionately before. I gently trace my fingers over my lips as I remember his lips on mine. I am startled out of my memory when I hear a ruckus going on in the hall.

  “No, damn it!” I hear Phillipe yell and there is a loud thud.

  I look up and a few moments’ later Marshall and Phillipe are barreling through the kitchen with Whitney following close behind them. What the heck is going on now? And here I thought everything was better, but looking at their faces, I know that it isn’t.

  “Dominique, I need a word with you,” Phillipe says quickly, eyeing Marshall with such hostility that it frightens me.

  “Yes, we’d all like that,” Marshall insists without breaking eye contact with Phillipe.

  “Is there something wrong?” I feebly ask, afraid of the answer.

  Whitney slithers by both of them and leans against the counter in front of me. She gives me a smirk and glances back at Marshall before bringing her eyes back to me. I wrack my brain trying to figure out what I could have done to warrant the look on her face right now.

  “So tell me, Dominique, what gives you the right to pry into our lives?” she asks angrily.

  “What?” I ask confused as I look to Phillipe for help.

  “Dominique,” Marshall says stepping away from Phillipe. “It has come to our attention that you had the New Orleans police department look into our background.”

  My mouth drops. “I’m sorry. I, umm.”

  I look to Phillipe again but he is looking down, tapping his fingers angrily along the counter. I’m not sure if he is angry at me or them, maybe both. I swallow trying to coat my dry throat before glancing at Marshall again, who is eyeing me with disdain.

  “I asked a friend of mine to check on all three of you. I was confused about the money and the ordering and…” I breathe in trying to control my racing heart. “It was before Phillipe explained to me about the inheritance and how the money needed to be handled. I jumped to conclusions and I’m really sorry,” I say quickly, hoping that will appease them.