“I can’t, but I promise you I’ll do something to fix it.”
Her tone changes as she switches tactics. I guess this is her good cop shtick. “Lily, you know I’m a cop, right? You can tell me anything. If Max is in trouble, you need to let the professionals handle this. If you do something on your own, you could get the both of you killed.”
I return to my bed and pull up the covers. “Sabrina, I would tell you if I could, but I can’t.”
“I’m losing my mind here, Lily. I love him. I’ve always loved him. There’s never been a doubt in my mind that we’ll get back together. I can’t just sit here knowing that something is wrong,” she pleads.
I fiddle with my cross while I think about what to say to her. “Max had you reach out to me for a reason. If you can’t trust me, trust him. I promise I’ll fix this.” I hang up on her.
Max would never reach out to Sabrina unless it was an emergency and he had no other options. I’ve got to get him out. Carlos knows where he is, but my only connection to Carlos is Lorenzo. Both men are impossible to reach.
I walk to the living room to get my laptop. After finding my briefcase, I return to the bedroom and power up the computer. Google doesn’t produce very much on Lorenzo, which shocks the hell out of me. The man runs an organized crime organization, and he’s like a ghost. The only thing I find is a newspaper article from ten years ago with a picture of him and a priest in front of a church in Manhattan that had been burnt down and rebuilt.
Then it hits me—I know exactly how to find him. It’s too early to call the States, but if I catch a plane this morning, I may have answers by dinner time. My bag’s already packed and there’s a flight that leaves in three hours. There’s no reason not to go.
I look at my phone. Do I call? After the way he walked out on me, I don’t think he deserves a call. He should be groveling to get me to even consider accepting his apology.
I scroll through my contacts until I find his name. My thumb hovers over the call button. Calling would be the right thing to do, but I can’t do it. I did nothing wrong, I shouldn’t have to make the first move. When he calls me, I’ll explain. If he doesn’t call, then I guess I have my answer. The ball’s in his court.
Now I have to decide what to do with my luggage. I have no idea where this trip could take me, and I’m not sure I want to be saddled with all this baggage. But I don’t want to leave it in London either. If Gavin and I don’t work things out, do I really want to fly all the way back here to collect my luggage? I’m sure Gavin would ship it to me, but I’d rather avoid that awkward situation all together.
Assuming the hotel provided Em with her driver, I call the concierge. I fib and say Em left two bags behind. She assures me she’ll have the bags delivered to Em before her flight tonight. I send off a quick text letting Em know her driver will have a few things I need her to bring back to the States for me. She’s teaching all day, so she won’t get the text until I’m already in the air, thus saving me from a lecture. I’ll call her tomorrow and explain.
I make it to Heathrow in time for my flight. After I board the crowded flight, I close my eyes. I hope I know what I’m doing.
******
New York in December is bitter cold. I never understood how so many people walk everywhere in this city. With the wind chill, it has to be below twenty degrees.
I rub my hands together and bounce while I wait for a cab. After being beaten out for a cab three times, it occurs to me that I better toughen up if I have any hope of being successful today.
I tell the driver to head to Hell’s Kitchen while I turn on my cell phone to get the address.
I hope coming here is the right move. Hopping on a plane without confirmation that I’m barking up the right tree is a big risk.
Once I find the address, the driver tells me we have at least forty minutes before we get there, plenty of time to call head. But I don’t. The element of surprise is the only thing I have going for me.
We cruise down the Van Wyck Expressway, and Manhattan comes into view. I love New York. I don’t think I could live here, but I love to visit. I’d hoped to come here with Gavin one day. I think we’d have a ball. Considering I haven’t heard a word from him since he walked out, the likelihood of future vacations is diminishing by the second.
The cab pulls up to an old five-story apartment building. Of course it’s a walk up and I have to go to the top floor. When I get to apartment 512, I take a deep breath and knock.
When the door opens, I say, “Hey, Darlene. I need your help.”
Chapter Fourteen
While Darlene typically looks confused, right now she looks really flabbergasted. “Lily, you’re about the last person I would’ve expected to see at my door. Come in, please.”
As I cross the threshold, my former mother-in-law gives me a tight squeeze. I hug her back, wishing this were just a social call. In the last five years, I’ve spoken to her twice. Once to tell her that Ash died and again to ask her to betray a mob boss. I’m winning daughter-in-law of the year, all right.
Her apartment is small but homey. The furniture is worn and practically threadbare but clean. I don’t see a speck of dust anywhere. She doesn’t have much, but she clearly does her best to take care of what she has. With the exception of the short time she was married to Franklin, she’s lived here her entire life. A rent-controlled apartment that has been in her family for seventy years—I can’t imagine how low her rent must be. She motions for me to sit on the sofa. “Can I take your coat?” she asks.
As I sit, one of the sofa’s buttons pops off and springs across the room. “Oh goodness. I thought I’d fixed that,” she says, embarrassed. She bends to pick up the button and tucks it in her pocket. “Your coat?” she asks sheepishly.
“No, thanks. I can’t stay long. So sorry about your couch. I drop in unannounced, then start trashing the joint,” I joke, trying to ease the tension.
She waves me off. “Don’t be silly, honey. Sewing it up will give me something to do later. The Lord knows, I have a shortage of things to keep me busy.” She sits on the sofa next to me. I can’t say how surprised I am to see you. Can I get you something to drink?”
I cross my legs and fold my hands in my lap. “No, thank you. I’m sorry to just drop in on you like this, but I’m in serious trouble and I think you may be the only person who can help me,” I say. “I need to find Lorenzo Grimaldi, and I’m hoping you know how to get in touch with him.”
She looks down and fiddles with the hem of her sweater. “Lorenzo? How do you know him, honey?” She’s trying to look casual, but I see fear in her eyes. Her posture has changed, and I can almost see her shrinking before my eyes.
“How well do you know Lorenzo, Darlene?” I ask
“I know enough,” she says with a tremble. “This is a tight-knit community. Lorenzo has always been like everyone’s grandfather. He doesn’t miss a baptism or first communion, wedding or funeral. He plays hopscotch with all the kids. Such a gentle old man, but we all know enough about him not to ask questions.”
She continues to look down, avoiding my gaze. “I wouldn’t change that policy,” I reply. “All I can tell you is that Ashton left me in some very big trouble that I’m doing my best to get out of, but I need to find Lorenzo. Do you know how I can find him?”
She walks to the window and is quiet for about five minutes. I know better than to push her, but I wish I could read her mind.
“Frankie always blurred the lines between right and wrong, but he managed to keep it balanced,” she says. “My son never learned that skill. I heard stories over the years about what he was into. When he died, I was devastated but not really surprised. I hoped that it would end there. I’m sorry you were dragged into it. Are you sure you need Lorenzo? If I tell you where he is and he doesn’t want you to find him, you know what that will mean for me, don’t you?”
I nod, even though she can’t see me. “He isn’t expecting me, but I don’t think he’ll be upset to see me. We
ll, not after I explain, anyway. And he’d never hurt you. You’re an innocent in all of this. Even more than I am. But I won’t tell him who told me.”
She laughs as she walks to the door. “He’ll know. He gets espresso every day at the bakery across the street from the school at three thirty. He likes to watch the kids leave school. You should hurry if you want to catch him.”
I follow her, kiss her cheek, then clasp her hands in mine. “Thank you, Darlene.”
“Come back and see me after this is resolved. I’d love to see you out from under this dark cloud. You’ve had enough darkness in your life. Time for some sunshine.” She smiles as she opens the door for me to leave.
I haul ass to the bakery. It’s so damn cold, but I don’t have time to wait for a cab. It’s already almost three, and I don’t want to miss him. He isn’t there when I arrive, so I find a table facing the door. Hopefully I won’t give him a heart attack when he sees me. He’s eighty-four, and something tells me I’m the last person he expects to find sitting here.
I call Em, but I get voice mail. She’s probably on her flight to Boston. I leave her a voice mail thanking her for bringing my bags home and promise to explain more later.
I hang up just as Lorenzo walks in. He looks so sweet bundled up in his wool car coat and plaid scarf. I can see why people see him as the grandfather of the neighborhood. He doesn’t look like a mobster, but I suppose that’s how he’s pulled it off for so long.
He hasn’t looked at me, but I know he saw me. Even at his age, he doesn’t miss a beat. A waiter comes to his table and Lorenzo whispers something to him.
The waiter approaches me and says, “The gentleman has invited you to join his table.”
Always with the pomp and circumstance. He can’t just wave me over. It has to be a production.
As I walk to his table, I vet scenarios in my brain, trying to decide the best way to play this. No matter what, it’ll all come down to how he feels about me showing up. I hope he’s in a good mood.
I pull out the chair on the opposite side of his table and sit. “Fancy meeting you here,” I say with a smile. “I was in the neighborhood and heard this place has great espresso.”
He stirs his espresso with the tiny spoon. “Is that so? You just happened to be in the neighborhood?”
I rest my elbow on the table and prop my head up with my hand on my chin. “A problem landed in my lap this morning, and I realized that I needed to come to New York to solve it.”
“Oh?” he says, sipping his drink.
I point to the door with my thumb. “Would you fancy taking a walk on this blustery December day?”
He returns his cup to its saucer. “Fancy? You’ve been in London for too long. My car is coming around. We’ll go for a ride.”
I cock my head to the side. “Do I get to wear the bag this time? I sure hope you’ve washed it since the last time,” I say, intending to be funny. Judging from the daggers coming at me from across the table, he isn’t amused. I put my hands up. “Just kidding. A little humor to lighten the mood.”
“Save the comedy for the professionals.”
“I need to—”
He bangs his hand on the table.
“I’m sure whatever you need to discuss can be done elsewhere.”
It seems I’m not playing by the rules.
Lorenzo’s Mercedes pulls up to the curb. When we get to the car, Big Al steps out to open the door for us.
“This is about the last thing I was expecting to happen today,” he says as I approach.
I pat him on the back before entering the car. “Hello to you too, Al.”
After we sit and the car gets moving, Lorenzo says, “This is not our arrangement.”
“Yes, I realize that. There are extenuating circumstances, and you didn’t leave me much choice. Had you given me a phone number, email, or carrier pigeon, I wouldn’t have to drop by unannounced.”
He looks out the window, ignoring my remark. “You’re resourceful. I’ll give you that.”
“If this is the first time you’ve picked up on that, you haven’t been paying attention.”
He laughs. “How I’ve missed your arrogance. Tell me, what’s so dire that you had to break every rule I have?”
I tap my fingers on the armrest. “Max used some back channels to reach out to me. He’s in danger, and I need to get him out. The FBI won’t pull him, so I need you to tell me where he is.”
He stares at me blankly. “That’s asinine, you realize that.”
“When has that stopped me before?” I ask. “I need to get him out, or this will end poorly for him, for me, possibly for Carlos. Tell me where he is, and I’ll figure something out.”
The car pulls up to the Waldorf Astoria. Al opens my door and extends his hand to help me out.
“Get a room. I’ll call you,” he orders.
Big Al leans forward and roughly grabs my hand. “Time’s up, sweetheart.”
When I’m on my feet, I pull my hand away. “Al, you really know how to make a girl feel special. For future reference, I prefer the Plaza,” I say before I sulk off into the hotel. I’m not sure what I was expecting, but I feel like I have completely wasted my time.
Irritated, I register for a room. Between the flight and this room, I’m going to have to write ten articles just to break even. “Day of” accommodations in New York come with a high luxury tax. Max owes me big time.
It’s almost midnight in London, and my phone hasn’t made a peep. We wouldn’t be us if we didn’t have a bout of radio silence.
The room is nothing special, especially for the price, but it has a shower, and that’s all I need right now. I turn the temperature to almost scalding and try to sear the day away. Gavin and I may be over, Max is in danger, Lorenzo is irritated with me, and I just blew three month’s pay on this impromptu trip. This won’t go down in history as one of my finer days.
An hour later, I decide I should leave some hot water for the rest of the hotel. The last time I engaged Carlos and his crew, I was kidnapped and didn’t eat or sleep for days. Climbing into bed and getting some sleep is probably a smart plan. It’s not even seven thirty, but it’s dark outside and I’m still on London time. Just as I drift off to sleep, my phone rings.
“Where the hell are you?” Gavin shouts before I can even say hello.
“Um—”
“‘Um?’ You leave me and fly to New York and all you have to say is, ‘Um?’”
I sit up against the headboard, trying to wake myself up. “How do you know where I am?”
“That’s beside the point, Lily, and you know it. You owe me an explanation.”
I pull the phone away from my ear and glare at it. “I don’t owe you anything. You walked out on me.”
“I needed a few hours to sober up and get my head on straight. That’s a far cry from packing up and moving to another bloody continent! Were you even going to clue me in that you left, or was I just supposed to sit here wondering if you might grace me with your presence?”
“I’m just playing by your rules. You can’t do this, remember?”
He releases a frustrated sigh. “I don’t even know what to say to you right now.”
“Good. The feeling is mutual.” My phone beeps, letting me know that the call was dropped. Bastard. I bury my head in my pillow and scream.
My phone rings again. I push talk and bark, “What?”
“What’s your problem?” a strange voice asks.
“Who is this?” I snap.
“It’s Al. Lorenzo says to be ready by eleven thirty. A car will come get you.”
“Where am I going?”
He laughs. “Don’t you know better than to ask questions like that? You opened this can of worms. Hope you’re happy with how it turns out.”
This day just gets better and better.
*******
After hours of fuming and cursing Gavin, O, Ash, and all the others I could think of to curse, my adrenaline is pumping. By the time eleven
thirty rolls around, I’m ready for whatever Lorenzo is about to throw at me. I pity the guy who tries anything with me tonight.
Big Al is waiting for me by the cab stand. “You look like a lady on a mission.”
“I am. Care to tell me where my mission is?”
“Nice try, sister. You get points for perseverance though.” He laughs as I get in the backseat.
My bravado carries me along for twenty minutes, but then it falters. I have no idea where I’m going or what to expect when I get there. I’ve pissed off one mob boss by asking him to put me in touch with another, breaking the criminal code of conduct. Probably not the smartest move. My night may end with me being fitted for a concrete coffin.
As we drive over the Tappen Zee Bridge, the reality of the situation sets in. I’m not wearing the bag. That either means they trust me, or Al’s driving me to my execution. I know Lorenzo’s been looking out for me, but I also know that if I’ve become a liability, he’ll have no choice but to eliminate me. My protection cannot supersede his own.
Despite how angry I am at Gavin, I wish I’d tried to talk to him before I went on this half-cocked adventure. In a typical situation, the onus should be on him to mend what’s broken between us. It’s his erratic behavior that got us here. But this isn’t a typical situation. As I walk into the lion’s den, I wish I had closure, even if I had to be the one to make the first move. I wish I knew what the hell happened that night. All our drama aside, I scared out of my mind and I miss him. I can’t shake the feeling that I’ve botched things up between us, but I can’t bring myself to call him.
Al merges onto the New York State Thruway. Looks like we’re going to upstate New York. My phone plays “I’m Too Sexy” by Right Said Fred. I don’t recognize the number. Who the hell programmed that? I hate this song.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Honey Bunny, what’re you wearing?”
Al has the heat cranked up, and I’m starting to sweat. I shrug out of my coat. “Honey Bunny? Really, Liam?”
“Have you forgotten our rendition of the Pulp Fiction dance scene at the club? You weren’t that hammered at the club, were you?”
When Fate Isn't Enough Page 16