Travis: To accompany the Fallen Angel Series - A Mafia Romance

by Tracie Podger

  She lay on the bed and beckoned for me. As I lay beside her she took my hand and placed it between her thighs. Her fingers guided mine, showing me what she wanted. She was so wet, her clitoris swollen and hot. I pushed my finger inside her as I leant over her body and kissed her. I tried to take my time, I listened to her breathing and when she moaned I smiled. I was obviously doing something right. Karen pulled my hand away and as I covered her with my body she guided my cock inside her. I leant up on my elbows as I fucked her. I tried to keep it slow, calm, but when she wrapped her legs around my waist, forcing me deeper, I lost it. I pumped faster and harder into her as her moans grew louder. When she cried out my name I came. Sweat ran down from my brow and I collapsed on top of her. She wrapped her arms around me and chuckled.

  “Better than your first time, huh?” she said.

  “How did you guess?” I asked.

  “It was fairly obvious.”

  I rolled to one side and stretched, feeling a little drowsy, that was until there was a knock on the front door.

  “Expecting anyone?” I asked.

  “No.” Karen climbed from the bed and pulled a robe around her.

  While she went to the front door, I dressed.

  “Can I help?” I heard her say.

  “Is Travis here?” came the reply, and I knew instantly it was Robert.

  I made my way to the door, still pulling my T-shirt over my head, with a huge grin on my face. Of course he did his sigh thing, with his eyebrows raised, unsmiling. I pecked Karen on the cheek and told her I would see her again before joining him.

  “I’ve done the whole fucking block, Trav,” he said.

  “Sorry, got a little distracted,” I replied.

  “I gather that. We need to go, we have a driving lesson.”

  With that, we made our way back to the office. Joe had decided we needed to learn to drive and I was pleased about that. I’d had enough of walking and since we were carrying more money, it felt safer to have a car. It would have been great to have a driver but we weren’t high enough in the pecking order for that.

  ****

  I found learning to drive easy. We spent most of the time in a car lot at night, and I’m not sure learning to spin away from a standing start was part of the test, but we mastered it. Robert was an aggressive driver and I was nervous when it was his turn behind the wheel. For me, roaring around at night was fantastic; but it was the freedom that I loved the most. It didn’t seem like we’d had too many lessons before we were taken for some photographs. It always amazed me the influence Joe had over people when I saw him hand over a stack of bills in return for our permits.

  Our first car was an old Mercedes, a classic according to Goon, beat up and uncomfortable according to Robert and me. It was about a week later that the car ended up wrecked after we spun it in a lot and hit a brick wall. We were lucky not to be seriously hurt; we only received a few cuts from the flying glass as the side window shattered. As we walked back to the office late that night both of us were nervous about what Joe would say.

  The following morning, Joe stomped, waved his hands around, cursed in Italian and then checked us over for cuts or bruises. Evelyn was frantically trying to keep up with the translation. He was annoyed about the car, naturally, but he was more concerned whether we had been hurt or not.

  “You’re not to have another car,” Evelyn said, translating.

  “Papa, they can’t do that,” she said in response to whatever it was Joe had said.

  “He’s upset because you could have been killed.” She was looking between Joe and us.

  “He’s not happy is he?” I whispered to Robert. He raised his eyebrows at me and shrugged his shoulders.

  Robert and I watched the exchange, Joe ranting in Italian and Evelyn in English.

  Evelyn sighed. “You’re to ride a motorbike from now on,” she said. She shook her head at her father.

  According to Joe riding a bike around DC would be enough to scare us into being more responsible drivers. Robert and I looked at each other with huge grins on our faces.

  Later that day we were back in the car lot roaring around on two small motorbikes, trying to figure out how to change gear and racing each other from one end to the other. Goon shook his head, Evelyn pleaded with her father to change his mind and Robert and I had the most fun we’d had in ages. We loved the bikes, much to Joe’s annoyance. If anything we were more reckless, weaving in and out of the traffic and racing each other through the streets at night. It took about a month for Joe to realise his mistake and we were given another car.

  ****

  I saw Karen once a week; we never went out anywhere, just fucked on rent day. For me, it was the perfect relationship. Whether she knew or not, she wasn’t the only woman I fucked. It all came to an abrupt halt one day though. I had Karen bent over the sofa; my hands held her hips as I fucked her hard. I was determined to make her come, to scream out my name. As I was about to pump my load into her I heard the sound of the door opening and then a voice.

  “What the fuck…,” he said.

  Turning, I saw the not so ex-boyfriend and his face was blazing with anger. Karen had been a little economical with the truth when she’d told me he had just moved out.

  “What the fuck are you doing?” he said, wheezing a little with the effort.

  “Fucking, that what’s what the fuck I’m doing,” I replied as I pulled out of Karen.

  She grabbed her T-shirt from the sofa and hastily pulled it over her head. For a couple of seconds there was a silence and then he came at me. Well, when I say came, he staggered towards me as quick as his pot belly and short legs would allow. I laughed and darted to the other end of the sofa, grabbing my clothes as I did.

  “You fucking punk,” he shouted.

  I ran around the sofa laughing, then out the front door hopping on one leg to get into my jeans. I was half way down the stairs by the time I had gotten them on and passed Robert, who was standing just outside the apartment block.

  “Trav?” he said, as I shot past and into the car.

  I watched in the rearview mirror as I sped off. The boyfriend was doubled over trying to catch his breath; I flipped him the finger and laughed as I made my way to the gym.

  ****

  Robert and I had started to visit the club, a place that Joe owned. Each Friday we would get dressed up and go to a place reserved for us at the bar. They would hand us a bottle of bear and we’d watch a group of girls trying not to show us how much they wanted our attention. Robert would nurse two, maybe three bottles of beer a night; he would never get drunk, whereas I would down them like water. After a couple of weeks of seeing the girls sway their asses to the music, toss their hair and try to subtly glance over at us to make sure we were watching, Robert made his move. I watched in amazement as he strode over, grabbed a brunette by the arm, and with no conversation, lead her to the toilets. Half hour later he was back, straightening his clothes, and she was excitedly telling her friends all about it. Robert would then ignore her for the rest of the night.

  “Bro, you need to treat the ladies right,” I said.

  “Really? She just let me fuck her in a stinking toilet without even telling me her name,” he replied.

  “But if you want to fuck her again, you need to at least talk to her.”

  “Maybe I don’t want to fuck her again,” he said.

  We weren’t old enough to be in the club, let alone to drink alcohol, but since Joe owned the place and we had been in many times to collect the rent, we were welcome. A few of the locals knew us, some were tenants, some were just people who knew of Joe and therefore knew about us. Some would nod, offer a drink - which we always declined - and others would stay as far away as possible. The longer the evening wore on, the closer the girls got to us; especially the one Robert had fucked in the toilet. She didn’t look too bad and I fancied my chances with her myself. However, there was a blonde who looked a little shy that caught my eye. I gathered her name was Carly, a
s I’d heard her being called. When I finally caught her eye I gave her the full killer smile and watched the blush creep up her neck and cover her cheeks.

  “Carly, what can I get you to drink?” I asked. She looked a little shocked that I had addressed her by name.

  “Oh, a beer would be good, thanks,” she replied.

  I noticed her friends nudge her towards me a little. I called the bartender over and ordered another beer. By the time I had turned back to her, the group of girls had moved closer. I watched Robert tense; he hated anyone encroaching on his space. The brunette he had fucked earlier was practically hanging off his arm. She whispered in his ear, he put his bottle down on the bar before leading her back to the toilets, giving me a wink as he passed. I wondered how he did it, he hadn’t spoken a word to her and she was throwing herself at him.

  “So, tell me about yourself?” I asked. I leant one arm on the bar giving her my full attention.

  “Me and Christy, Christy is the one who has just gone off with your friend, share an apartment just around the block. We work together.”

  I liked the fact she had her own apartment. Although Robert had relented and we were spending more time staying with Joe, I couldn’t exactly invite a girl back there. I think Evelyn would throw a fit. While she talked, she twisted a strand of hair around her fingers. She told me about her work - an office of some sort - and I began to tune out a little. I found it hard to keep my eyes fixed on her face. She had removed her jacket and probably didn’t realise the top buttons on her blouse had popped loose. I could see the creamy white skin of her tits spilling over the top of a white lace bra.

  Robert returned with the brunette following in his wake, struggling on high heels to keep up with him. She didn’t look too pleased.

  “Carly, we need to leave,” she said, tugging her friend by the arm.

  “See you another time,” Carly said as she shrugged on her jacket.

  I mentally said goodbye to the tits and turned towards Robert.

  “What did you do? I was in there,” I said.

  “Fucked her.”

  “Can’t have been good if she’s rushed to leave,” I said.

  “Trav, she came, what more does she want?”

  “You could have bought her a beer or something, even told her your name.”

  “She knows who I am, they all know who we are,” he said.

  “How?”

  “Look around you, see how many people glance away, won’t catch our eye. It’s because we work for Joe.”

  I hadn’t noticed it before, but Robert was right. As I stared at the first guy next to us he immediately dipped his head, and the longer I stared the more he shuffled further away. Rob was an imposing character; he was over six feet tall built like a brick shithouse, and I guess I wasn’t that far behind. It was a far cry from the days when we were skinny kids on the street. Okay, Rob had never been a skinny kid but I’d spent many a night cowering, and seeing these older men intimidated by us gave me a sense of power, of importance. Damn, it felt good.

  ****

  It was one lunchtime that I got the full story of what happened to Robert’s aunt. Evelyn had come to the office with lunch. We headed off to a park and sat on the bench to eat.

  “Rob, I’ve never asked, but how did you get to be here?” Evelyn asked.

  He told us how he had burnt down the house, this we knew. Then he told us his aunt was still in the house when he’d done it, and he’d killed her. I guessed I should have been shocked, but deep down I already knew. However, it was the look on Evelyn’s face that had me worried. Robert didn’t do pity; he hated for anyone to feel sorry for him, and it was her look of sadness that had him standing, brushing the crumbs from his lap and insisting we make our way back.

  “You didn’t kill her; it was an accident, wasn’t it? I doubt you could have done anything to save her, you were so young,” she said.

  “No, that’s where you’re wrong. I watched the fire for a while, watched it take hold of the basement. I had plenty of chances to do something about it but I didn’t. I had plenty of time to get her out of the house, but I didn’t. I stood at the edge of the woods and watched until there was nothing left of the house or of her,” he replied.

  I didn’t know what to say, how to respond. I knew about his childhood, the beatings and the preaching he had endured, and whether it was right or wrong, I sympathised with him. Would I have done the same? I don’t know. I often wondered if I’d stuck that knife in my brother’s heart - if I had killed him - would I feel bad, and the honest answer would have been no. To grow up in a home full of conflict and anger, to suffer the beatings as we had, meant we became immune to pain, and immune to inflicting it. Like Robert, when we beat someone to get paid for the drugs we delivered, I felt no remorse. I felt nothing for the man lying at my feet, bleeding from the wounds I had inflicted on him. Robert was often troubled by his lack of empathy; I didn’t care one way or another.

  What came out of that conversation, though, was my understanding of Robert’s desire never to get pulled over by the cops. I was the one to drive normally, and I assumed he had more reason than me to stay out of the cells. He had murdered someone, and I wasn’t sure if he could still be charged with that.

  He had no one. There was not one person left on earth that he was related to - that he knew of - no one that he could call family other than us. He would always be my brother. He would always be the brother or the son of Evelyn - however you wanted to look at it - and the more we stayed at the house, the more he became Joe’s ‘other’ son.

  At first I was envious of the relationship Robert was developing with Joe. They would converse in Italian - I wasn’t educated enough to learn another language. They would spend time alone together, sitting in Joe’s garden room and chatting, drinking coffee and planning. I wasn’t sure what they were planning, but I knew it was our future, and I would be eternally grateful to Robert for taking me on that journey with him.

  ****

  It was with a lot of reluctance that I started working with Jonathan. Accounts were not my thing; I would look at a list of numbers and it meant nothing to me. I understood basically what went on - the rents were reported much higher than they actually were so that the drug money we made could be filtered in and ‘laundered’.

  “Rob, what the fuck does this mean?” I asked.

  We were sitting in the office with paperwork spread over the desk. I had no clue what most of it was, and watched as Robert scribbled constantly in a large accounting book.

  “Look, this is the rent we’ve collected this week. If we leave it like that, Joe will pay tax. So we have to find receipts to make sure we lower the amount of tax he pays,” he replied.

  “Okay, so how do we do that?”

  “Go find Paul, we need receipts for materials that could have been used for repairs. Don’t come back with a receipt for a stack of bricks, though. I want invoices for taps, paint, door locks, that kind of thing.”

  I would then spend the day chasing after Paul for invoices, and Robert would sit in the office with Jonathan learning how to manipulate the books. It amazed me and Jonathan how creative he could be with the figures, even early on. His suggestions, the ones that were accepted, had started to move Joe’s businesses towards a more legitimate state, while still making him the maximum amount of money. Paul was the one who seemed the most troubled by that. I sensed reluctance from Paul when he was questioned about what building materials had been paid for, and whether the missing stacks of bricks were found. It was clear to Robert and me that he was skimming off payments, and perhaps selling off materials then pocketing the money. We never mentioned it to Joe, but as Robert became more involved in the accounting, Paul was reined in.

  Joey was still Joey - lazy, always keeping a small portion of the money he collected, and he spent most of his time sneering at us. Everyone felt his resentment. He looked down at us, something Robert hated; and the more he did, the more Joe conferred with Robert. Joe drew Ro
bert closer and involved him more in the business while pushing his own son, his flesh and blood, to one side. Little were we to know the consequence of that choice.

  Chapter Seven

  Boxing was becoming important to Robert and I; it was the only legal outlet we had for the aggression we both seemed to harbour. It felt good to work out, to see my body change and bulk up. I loved when the guys at the gym challenged me and I held my own against them.

  Robert was the first one to get a fight. We had known for some time the guys fought for Joe, making money for him if they won, standing the chance of being dispatched if they didn’t. To Joe, the gym, the fighters, were all a business. I was excited for Robert, but underneath there was a small amount of anxiety. For Robert to unleash the aggression inside him, the aggression he kept contained, might be dangerous for him and for his opponent.

  We arrived late one night at an abandoned warehouse similar to the ones we used when we unloaded the trucks. Robert, Ted and I went directly to the changing rooms. He was quiet, calmly taking in his surroundings.

  “Are you sure about this?” I asked him. “Are you nervous?”

  He looked at me and shook his head. “No,” he said. However, I did notice his eyes darker than usual, a sure sign he was fired up.

  In the first round, Robert wouldn’t allow his opponent to get close. People were calling out his name, and Ted was getting agitated.

  “Fuck, Rob, step it up a bit. People have come to see a fight,” he called over the ropes.

  I was positioned in the corner while Ted stood on the platform, leaning over the ropes and shouting instructions. Whether Robert heard him was another matter, because he certainly never acknowledged him. Watching Robert fight was like seeing an animal about to be unleashed from its cage. His anger had been pent up for so many years, and boxing gave him a way to release that. When he decided he’d had enough of his opponent he opened his cage and all hell broke loose. Something changed in him; a flash of recognition seemed to cross his face. The man in the ring wasn’t the Robert I knew. He was relentless, his opponent half dead by the time Robert finally let him fall the floor, ending the match.