“It hurts more. If I remember the good and not the betrayal, I question myself about whether I made the right decision walking away. I think maybe I could love him again. I could love him more. Love him better. I remember he loved me once, and I returned that love. I may have fought it, but I sure as hell felt it. I was devastated when I found him that day. So much happened that year, so many changes, and yet he was my constant. He became someone I didn’t know.”
“You admitted you love him. No question. You love him. That’s okay. It doesn’t mean you have to forgive him, or return to him, but you have to admit to your feelings to be able to move on from them or embrace them. He changed, and you weren’t ready for that. You had experienced so much in such a short time; you couldn’t take one more evolution. That’s okay, Bianca. You are entitled to your needs, and you have every right to demand they are met, or you move on.”
“I didn’t evolve. I stayed in that moment.”
“You moved on, you haven’t admitted that yet. A part of you may always love him, and that’s okay. That’s a part of your past, and we all have many transformations in life. I believe it is a way to allow the new experiences and people that come into our life to penetrate. For instance, Callie and Lynsey. You are close to both of them, and there is room for both in your life. One doesn’t replace the other. It’s like that in love. One relationship doesn’t replace the other; each is irreplaceable and serves a different purpose. Some for a lifetime and others for moment. Only you can tell the difference.”
“That’s ominous.”
“No, that’s life. Do you still love Dakota? I know you use that word in the present tense, but is it in your past?”
“I think our time or what we were is in my past, but I do think I will always love him… just in a different way. I had so many experiences with him, and I don’t regret them. Not even the painful ones. I just don’t love him anymore.”
“It’s okay to feel that. You shouldn’t feel guilt about it. You don’t know if he will go on to meet the love of his life; one that changes him for the better.”
“But that should have been me.”
“It wasn’t. It isn’t. You need to admit that.”
“I have. Then I deny it, because if I couldn’t have been that for him, how could I have expected him to be that for me?”
“You have the answers to that question. Until you seek them and accept them, you will remain in this closed off place you’ve put yourself in.”
“That’s encouraging.”
“So, next week be prepared. We will delve into Heath. But this week, I need you to find out what it’s like to be yourself. Alone. Who is Bianca? What do you want from life?”
“I pay you for this every week, and you give me work. That doesn’t seem fair.”
“I’ll make sure to use some of that money to replace my candy dish.”
“See, I knew I was your favorite.” I shut the door with a smile on my face, feeling like I got just a little piece of myself back today.
Chapter Eight
Heath
I’ve spent two months trying to get out of bed with the Mob. I was stupid to climb in there in the first place. Crime, deceit, money, prestige . . . I grew up with it all, and the day my dad walked away was the day I felt our lives truly began. In a moment of weakness, I go and mix myself up with them. I have excuses at the ready for my reasons. Only one rings true . . . I was an idiot. I was spiraling downward, and instead of saving myself, fighting for what I wanted, I allowed myself a moment of weakness. That moment may cost me Bianca, if she ever comes back. Hell, it could cost me my life if I piss them off.
I’m trying to continue with the air of nonchalance as I talk to Gino. Leaning against the bar like I don’t have anything pressing to do, I force my hands to relax as I sip from the glass in front of me. I look all around while completely zoned in on the man across from me. He’s not one to cross; the entire Costa family is dangerous. They don’t operate by the same rules the Agosto family did; nothing is off limits, so before I go after Bianca, I need them out of my life.
“Heath, Mr. Costa doesn’t wish for our arrangement with you to end.”
“It’s my bar. My rules. He doesn’t have to like it, just accept it.”
“Mr. DeLuca,” he stares at me for a long moment. Intimidating his prey . . . only I know the Costas don’t want me dead, just on board with their plans. Without my business they’re screwed. “You seem to be under the impression you have a choice.”
“I do. I stop doing your laundering, and you find someone else. You could kill me, but the results would be the same. You will still be looking for somewhere to have your money cleaned.”
“And those close to you? Would they feel the same? The little singer in here . . . she may not appreciate Mr. Costa’s tactics to prove his point.” He settles back in his chair with his arms crossed, knowing he won.
The ringing in my ears and tunnel vision let me know I’m very close to losing my temper. “Fine,” I concede. He may have won this round, but I’ll find a way. I have too much at stake to surrender to them.
He stands and stretches his hand for me to shake. I refuse. “I’ll drop off more on Friday. This gives you three days to clean this.” He throws an envelope on the table. The amounts and demands get larger as time progresses.
I turn my back, the ultimate sign of disrespect, but it conveys my message: I don’t give a fuck what happens to me. He has me over a barrel because I do care what happens to those I love. Once I hear the door shut, I pick up the bottle I poured our drinks from and throw it across the bar. “FUCK!”
“What the hell, Heath?”
“When did you get here?”
“I came in at the same time that Gino guy was leaving. We open in an hour,” Lynsey replies, obviously muddled.
“Did he say anything to you?”
“Just hello. He gives me the creeps the way he looks at me. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, Lyns. I’m handling it.”
“Who is he?” She tilts her head, studying me.
“Nobody.”
“Bullshit. What have you done?”
I don’t have anything to lose at this point, and I need her to be aware, be careful. “Mob.”
“So a friend?”
“No,” I choke back the bitterness. “I wasn’t in the Mob, Lyns. My dad was. Bianca’s father was the head of the organization, then Callie’s dad. You know this. That guy, the family he represents, is bad news.”
“Then why was he here?”
“Long story. Just be careful. Avoid him at all costs.”
“You’re scaring me, Heath.”
“Don’t worry. I’ve got this covered. Nothing will happen.”
“I don’t believe you, and I can’t believe you’re somehow involved. What happened to getting Bianca back? Is this what’s been holding you back?”
“I wanted to give her time to get on her feet.”
“It’s been almost six months. How much time are you going to give her? I’ve told you she’s stronger. Therapy agrees with her. She’s got some spunk in her again, but she’s sad. She misses you.”
“Has she told you that?”
“She doesn’t have to. We all know.”
“Nobody knows jack shit about that girl or what she’s thinking.”
“One thing I do know is, the Mob, you, her . . . that is a slew of ingredients that will not mix. Ever.”
“I know, Lyns. I know. I’m handling it.”
“What did you do, Heath?” Her voice is laced with disappointment, disbelief. She gives me a blank stare before dropping her chin to her chest, shaking her head. Her shame isn’t anything I have experienced myself. Not even a tenth of how Bianca will react.
With the envelope in hand, I head to my office to grab some detergent and start the laundry. In laymen’s term . . . filtering it into circulation through my bar. Distance from my staff is what I need. I can’t focus on the task at hand, sick to my stomach, and tryin
g to pinpoint the exact moment I became a man I’m ashamed of, one I don’t know anymore. I could place the blame on Bianca, but I went into that relationship with open eyes. I knew it would be a fight for her heart, I just didn’t know it was completely unavailable.
I reminisce, and I had glimpses of happiness with her. The way she’d allow her quick wit to escape and be herself with me. She was always honest with me. I hope she’s been able to put things in perspective and is starting her journey of healing.
I’m not getting anything done in here and know I have a long night in front of me. I get up to go out front to check things. Lynsey sees me but is avoiding my presence, opting to fiddle with her guitar and microphone. I hope she doesn’t tell Bianca before I can figure out how to end this association.
The squeal from the amp reverts my attention to the stage, and I see Lynsey staring at me. Shaking her head, she dives into her rendition of ‘Fix You’ by Coldplay.
Each lyric punches me in the chest. I had everything in the palm of my hands, and my actions are crushing it. I listen to her, lost in remorse, and try to find a solution to end this. Before she can finish the song, I trudge back to my office to do the one thing I’ve never wanted to do.
Admit I need help.
Admit I’ve fucked up.
Admit I’ll do anything to end this charade.
It rings once. I hear the familiar voice. I swallow my pride, fear, and regret and take a deep breath, “Dad. I need help.”
Those words destroy me. He had such high hopes for me. He placed all his faith and pride in me, and I let him down. I’ll somehow earn back his respect, but right now I need out of this mess, and I need Bianca.
“What’s wrong, son?”
“I’ve gotten involved with something, and I need to know how to get out. If I can.”
There’s a brief silence as my hands continue trembling, trying to hold the receiver to my ear. I’m wondering why I called him; he’s out of the business and can’t help. “Heath, please tell me it’s not what I think it is.”
“Costa family.”
“Fuck.” The weight of that one word crashes down on me. The disgust, the fear. I sink into the chair, dizziness keeping me from standing upright. I physically hurt all over. Not a limb on my body isn’t shaded by humiliation.
“Money laundering.”
“How long?”
“A few months.”
“Who are you dealing with?”
“Gino Rossi.”
“Damn it, son.”
“I know, Dad. I fucked up.”
“Close up the club. Get down here, and we’ll deal with it.” He’s gone into protector mode and isn’t saying more than necessary. I don’t think I’m wired or being followed because I’m still an asset and haven’t double-crossed them. After tonight’s conversation that could change.
“I’ll get the first flight.”
“Let me know when you’ll get here. I’ll pick you up.”
“Sorry, Dad.”
“We’ll handle it. It will all be fine.” For the first time in my life, I don’t believe my father. But, I know if I have any chance of a life, it has to be without the Mob, without the grave I dug myself.
Chapter Nine
Bianca
I’m going stir crazy. A tiny two bedroom apartment one building over from Bronson and Callie, my mom a short twenty minutes away, and all of them keeping a vigilant watch over me is enough to make a sane person crazy, and I’m far from sane.
“Callie, I’ll be fine. I can drive myself to Dr. Adams.”
“Let me drop Angelo off at your mom’s, and I’ll go with you.”
“Fuck, I don’t drive over any bridges, and I haven’t seen a building tall enough for me to leap from . . . gas is on the right, brake is on the left. I’ve got this.”
“Not funny, Binks.”
“I know it’s not, but y’all are killing me. I mean it. I can’t shit without someone trying to wipe my ass for me. I’ve got to venture out on my own sometime, and I think therapy is a good place to start.”
“You scared me.” Her eyes pool with tears, and I start to feel like shit. I stop myself. No guilt. I’ve apologized and owned what I did. I fight the urge daily to curl up in a ball and allow life to pass me by. I persevere. Everyone in my life needs to recognize my progress and back the fuck off.
“I scared myself, but Callie, I’m done apologizing. I can’t say anything to make you listen to me, to really hear what I’m saying. All I can do is prove it. I love you. I’m thankful you’ve been here for me, but I have to live. You may think you’re keeping me alive, but you’re suffocating me.”
“That’s not fair, Bianca. We’re all worried.”
“It’s been six months, Callie. Six long months of therapy and working through my issues. Six long months of y’all being underfoot, and I haven’t had a moment to myself. I’m not telling you I’m fine, but I think I’m over the hurdle. If it makes you feel better, confiscate my razors, and when I need to shave I’ll come clog your drain.”
“Clog our drain?”
“It’s winter, I only shave once a month.”
“That’s nasty.”
“I don’t have someone rubbing up on my legs, so it works perfectly. I’ve been thinking once a month is too much. I could probably stretch it to six or eight weeks.”
“You have issues.”
“I know. That’s what therapy is for, and that’s where I’m trying to fucking go, but someone is holding me hostage.”
“Promise you’ll call when you get there and when you’re leaving.”
“Holy shit, you want to check the mileage on my car and bank balance before I go? Am I allowed to stop for a coffee?”
“Just don’t bring back that pumpkin shit . . . I want to hurl every time I smell it.”
“You pregnant again?”
“NO! Pumpkin flavored shit is just foul.”
“Mommy, you said shit.” My cheeks hurt from holding in my laughter. “I tell Daddy, and he make you put a quarter in my piggy bank.”
“I’m sorry, baby. I’ll put a dollar in if you don’t tell Daddy.” I lose the battle, and laughter spills from my mouth. “Seriously Bianca, at this rate he will have college paid for before kindergarten.”
“Do you pay him a dollar each time you cuss?”
“Yes, because if Bronson knew I slipped up, he’d never let me hear the end of it. And my words are shit or damn, not fuck or fuck.”
“Mommy . . .”
She quickly cuts him off, “Ten dollars and an ice cream.”
“Stellar parenting. Now what can I blackmail you with?” I squint my eyes at her to study her reaction.
“I swear, Binks, it’s your fault we had to start the deposit system in his piggy bank. You filled up two vases on your own.”
“I’ll file this evidence for a later date. Want anything on my way back?”
“If you stop at Starbucks, I’ll take a graham latte.”
“Now that’s revolting.” She takes a quick look over her shoulder before flipping me off when she sees Angelo is engrossed in cartoons. “Lock up when you leave, and if you want a night out, I’ll keep him tonight.”
“Really?”
“Yes, you can wine and dine my brother. If you’re lucky you can end with sixty-nine.”
“I’ve missed you.”
“I’ve missed me. I’m getting my legs underneath me, and it feels fucking great.”
“Aunt Binks, you said a word.”
“Yep, Aunt Binks should probably just write you a check at the end of each month, I don’t carry that much cash on me.”
I walk out of my apartment feeling like I was just released from prison. Dramatic analogy maybe, but my family has taken their role as my handler seriously. I make the short drive to Dr. Adams’ office blaring ‘Secondhand Smoke’ by Kelsea Ballerini. Lynsey left her CD at my apartment last time she was here, and I’ve been hooked ever since. I take my seat in the reception area and wait for him
to call me back.
“Bianca, you ready?”
“What’s up, Doc?”
“Are you going to ask me that every appointment?”
“Are you always going to avoid answering?”
“When I start paying for your services, you can ask the questions.”
Bellissimo Rilascio (Beautiful Release): The Family Series #3 Page 5