The Beautiful People (The New Mafia Trilogy)

by Fechenda, E. J.

  I grabbed a notebook out of the drawer and started jotting down my escape plan:

  1) Close out bank account

  2) Get oil change and tune-up on car

  3) Buy a GPS

  4) Get a new cell phone number

  5) Set up PO Box and have mail forwarded

  6) Pack

  7) Write mom and Grant letters so they won’t worry about me

  8) Ensure that bridges aren’t burned and Marco won’t kill Grant for my departure and won’t put a hit out on me.

  9) Write a letter for Dominic, explaining why I had to leave.

  10) Do all of the above and leave.

  Items one through six were easy, but the last three were a hell of a lot more complicated and my window of opportunity was closing. By now I was completely exhausted. My shoulder screamed at me and I knew I needed to rest. I set the notebook on the table and tried to sleep, but the pain kept me awake. Finally, I gave up and went to take another pill. Before drifting off to sleep, I tried to think happy thoughts, hoping to keep the nightmares at bay.

  I woke up refreshed. By some miracle I slept a deep, dreamless sleep. Besides feeling stiff and experiencing a little twinge of pain every now and again, my shoulder felt pretty good.

  It was close to noon and I didn’t have much time to get things in order. I called down to the concierge and asked them to call me a cab. I quickly brushed my teeth, brushed the tangles out of my hair and freshened up. I didn’t look fantastic, but I wasn’t looking to impress anyone. I called Grant and told him I was going to nap and that he didn’t need to stop by until he was on his way to work. Fortunately, he sounded relieved and I didn’t have to worry about him discovering my absence.

  My first stop was the nearest branch of the Philadelphia Credit Union. I closed out my checking and savings account. After I left, I wished I had made it my last stop because walking around with close to twelve grand in cash on me was stressful. I went and picked out a new cell phone and number. I would cancel my old contract once I left the city. Radio Shack also sold Garmin, so three items on my list were eliminated in one afternoon. Once I was able to drive my car, I could cross item number two off. With the easy stuff taken care of, I would be able to focus on the more challenging tasks.

  I made it back to the apartment in time to change back into my lounging clothes and hide my new purchases before Grant stopped in. I was tired from the exertion of shopping and didn’t have to put on an act for him.

  He helped to clean my wound which had scabbed over on both sides of my shoulder. Another day and still no infection - that was a good sign. I was more tolerant of the cleaning process this time around and only hissed a few times.

  “Ouch!” I blurted out.

  “Sorry, I’m almost done. Hold still.” He had a firm grasp on my elbow to prevent me from moving. “This isn’t right Nat. I shouldn’t be cleaning your bullet wound. You shouldn’t even have to know what it’s like to be shot,” he shook his head in disapproval.

  “I shouldn’t know what it’s like to kill a man and neither should you, yet here we are.” I shuddered at the memory and this caused my shoulder to bump harder against Grant’s hand. I winced at the contact.

  “Hold still,” he reminded me, tightening his grip. He finished taping the gauze to my skin and sat back to look at me. “Did you eat anything today?”

  I had to think about it. “No, I didn’t,” I admitted. I didn’t have the energy to lie to him. He frowned at my response.

  “You need to eat Nat. You need all of your strength in order to heal.” He went into the kitchen to survey the options. He pulled out a can of soup and I scrunched up my nose. He sighed and put the can back in the cabinet. He pulled out a jar of peanut butter and grabbed the loaf of bread off of the counter. The first slices he pulled out were fuzzy with green mold. He grimaced and tossed the whole bag into the garbage. Still determined, he opened the freezer and spotted one of my favorite treats. Triumphant, he spun around and dropped a bag of pot stickers on the counter.

  My stomach growled when I eyed them. “Cook ‘em up. You know I could house that whole bag in one sitting.” He started me out with six and then prepared six more. It was like having a personal chef. I was going to miss Grant. Despite all the craziness of the past few months, our bond did grow stronger.

  When I was full, and Grant was satisfied that I had eaten something, he got ready to leave. “Tell everyone at work I said hi,” I told him as he stepped out the door. It was extremely difficult acting normal. I was just going through the motions. As soon as I had my follow up appointment with Dr. Russo on Monday, I was leaving. I just hoped that Dominic didn’t come home in the next four days. There was still a lot I had to accomplish in that short period of time.

  The deadline had me antsy and once again I couldn’t sleep. Instead, I stayed up to write the letters to Grant and to my mom.

  Mom,

  Sometime I will be able to explain to you why I had to leave. There are a myriad of reasons and many I can’t tell you right now. There is one reason I can tell you now, and I know you will understand – I am putting myself first. Life has spun out of control for me these past nine months and I need to go get my head together.

  I know we haven’t always had the best relationship, a lot of that has to do with me. When we do see each other again, I want to wipe the slate clean and start from scratch. I’m all about new beginnings these days…

  Please don’t try to find me. I will contact you when I’m ready. This hasn’t been an easy decision to make, but I need to do it. I started to lose myself, just when I was beginning to figure out who I am.

  Love,

  Natalie

  This was a lot harder than I thought it was going to be. By the end I had a lump in my throat from tears I refused to spill. I moved on to Grant’s.

  Grant,

  First of all, I know I promised to stay and I hope that my leaving doesn’t put you in harm’s way. As I told Mom in her letter, I was starting to lose myself. Not just physically shrinking, but my mind, my life, my goals…everything. You seem destined for this lifestyle, but it’s not for me. The more I tried to conform to it, the more lost I became. I have nightmares full of death and violence. Now I’m responsible for destroying a life and I am at my breaking point.

  Please let Marco know that I am not going to the feds. The only information I have implicates you, Dominic and now me. I would never turn against my own family and I think Marco will understand, and I hope appreciate that.

  Please don’t try to find me. I’ll be ok. You have protected me thus far, now it’s time for me to protect myself. I wish I could be there for your wedding. You and Miranda are perfect for each other and I wish you a lifetime of happiness. You really are the best big brother. Thank you for all you’ve done. I will be in touch, when I feel it’s safe.

  Love,

  Nat

  That was the solution to Marco and I hadn’t thought of it until I started writing Grant’s letter. It made sense that I didn’t pose a threat to exposing the Grabanos since I was just as dirty now. Grant would soon officially be part of the family and that should count for something too. I hoped it was enough. I debated writing Dominic’s letter since I was on a roll, but these two letters had already left me drained. His letter would have to be written another day.

  Chapter 32

  I was still in bed when Grant came over the next day with a fresh bag of bagels. “Based on the food situation in your kitchen, I thought you could use these for breakfast.” On our nocturnal schedule it was common to eat breakfast at one or two in the afternoon. Using the bagels as bait, Grant drew me out of bed and I followed him into the kitchen. I chattered on about random things just to fill the silence. Grant set down the bread knife and eyed me suspiciously.

  “What?” I asked.

  “Aren’t you going to ask me about Dom?” Shit, I wasn’t keeping up the façade very well.

  “How is he doing? Still improving I hope?” I asked, recovering
quickly.

  “He’s doing great, better than expected. Dr. Russo is letting him go home to his parent’s house this weekend. He’ll probably be home here by Monday,” Grant was still eyeballing me as if gauging my reaction. “He’s been asking for you. I think you should go see him this weekend. He would like that.”

  “Yeah, I can do that. Definitely.” My deadline had just been moved up by a day. I might not be able to see Dr. Russo before skipping town. If Dominic was coming back Monday, I needed to be gone by then. My mind went into overdrive reconfiguring my schedule.

  “Nat? Natalie?” Grant snapped his fingers in front of my face to get my attention.

  “What?”

  “You were zoning out again.” He set a toasted sun dried tomato bagel (my favorite) in front of me and snatched up the bottle of pain pills. He opened the bottle and inspected the number of pills inside.

  “What are you doing?” I asked him.

  “You’re not yourself and I just wanted to make sure you weren’t overdoing it with these things,” he shook the bottle like a rattle.

  I rolled my eyes at him. “I’m not taking any. I took a couple the first night, but that’s it,” I paused. “You’re right though, I’m not myself. You’re probably used to lodging bullets in people’s heads, but I’m not.”

  “Oh, right.” Grant quickly set the bottle of pills back on the counter. “How are you doing with that?”

  “Can I ask you something? Do you ever stop seeing them…the people you’ve killed? Every time I close my eyes, his face is there. I’ve had terrible nightmares, not just the guy I shot, but of those three men you shot at the after-hours place.”

  Grant shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know. It’s never really bothered me. If I stop to think about it, I feel remorse. So, I don’t think about it and it doesn’t affect me.” I shook my head in amazement. I didn’t know how he could just switch it off. His ability to do that is probably what made him a successful soldier for the mob. We may look alike, but that is where the similarities ended.

  We stopped talking to eat our bagels. It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence, just another breakfast with my brother. I felt a twinge of sadness when I realized this was probably going to be our last breakfast together for a while.

  Grant set his bagel down and cleared his throat. I looked up at him. “Nat, I don’t know if you’ll ever stop seeing dead people,” his eyes twinkled when he said this. “But I will do everything in my power to keep you from having to shoot anyone again.” I always used to think Grant’s overprotectiveness was annoying, now I was beginning to realize that it was just his way of displaying his affection.

  “Thank you.”

  After we ate, Grant checked on my injury and cleaned it. Each day it hurt less and less and I was pleased with my progress. Grant left shortly after that. Once he was gone, I surveyed the condo. I didn’t have much to pack. All of the furniture belonged to Dominic. I had sold all my Ikea furniture from the apartment I shared with Chelsea to another student. My winter clothes could be donated since I wouldn’t need them in LA. I really hadn’t left much of an imprint here and that was comforting. It would be easier to extricate myself.

  Only having the use of one arm slowed me down, but I managed to pack a bag of clothes and stashed it in the walk-in closet so Grant wouldn’t see it. I called the concierge and arranged for laundry to be sent out. The clothes would be returned folded and easier to pack. Plus, I hated doing laundry, so much so I was willing to pay someone to do it.

  The afternoon was slipping away quickly and I still needed to set up a post office box to forward my mail. I called the concierge desk again and had them call me another cab. It took longer than I planned and I was running late getting back to the condo. Grant was going to stop by before heading to work. The cab sat in downtown traffic and I started to get anxious. What if Grant got there early and came across anything, like the notebook, or the suitcase. Finally, the congestion freed up and the cab found an opening to turn down a side street. The sun had already set by the time we pulled up in front of my building.

  “Good evening Miss Ross,” the doorman said as he held the door open for me.

  “Good evening. Has my brother been by here at all?”

  “Yes Miss. He is already upstairs. He arrived here a few minutes ago.” Shit.

  Grant was pacing when I opened the door. “Where were you?” he barked the second I entered the condo.

  “I needed to get out, I went downtown.”

  “You were supposed to be lying low. It’s not safe for you to be wandering around out there.”

  “I was feeling a little stir crazy, besides I’m fine. Nothing happened.”

  “You should have called me; I would have taken you out.”

  “You do enough for me already – you should be spending time with your fiancé.”

  “Next time call me,” he ordered.

  “Fine,” I said through my teeth. So far he was acting like this was the only issue, which was a good sign. If he had uncovered any of my plans, I would be probably be hauled away to some mafia style intervention. “Sorry. I’ll call you next time.”

  “Good.” We both stood as if we were facing off. In a way we were, our stubborn streak had caused us to bump heads many times before. I continued to glare at him, just to give him a hard time. He clenched his jaw and then burst out laughing. “You are hilarious when you try to act tough,” he teased.

  “I am tough. I’m a killer,” I attempted to joke back, but didn’t find it amusing. I could tell by the stern look on Grant’s face that he didn’t find it funny either.

  “Are you hungry?” he asked, changing the subject.

  “I could eat.” He smiled at my signature answer.

  “Miranda is on her way. She’s bringing pizza.”

  At the mention of pizza, my stomach growled. I wondered if LA had pizza as good as Philly. In fact, I wondered a lot about LA. I had never been there and hadn’t really done any research. It was like that game I played in elementary school, where you spun the globe and wherever it stopped under your fingertip, was where you were going to live. It was an impulse decision, but one I was going to stand by.

  As if on cue there was light knock on the door. Grant opened it and Miranda walked in carrying a pizza box. She was dressed for work and looked stunning. I glanced down at my track pants and flannel shirt. I looked like a bum in comparison. Miranda set the box down on the counter and the light glinted off of her engagement ring.

  “You’re going to blind somebody with that thing,” I teased.

  “Your brother knows his jewelry,” she beamed at Grant and stepped up on her toes to kiss his cheek. Grant blushed, for probably the second time in his entire life. Yeah, he had fallen for Miranda hard. It was reassuring to know that I wasn’t leaving him alone. He was going to be ok, even though Marco was going to be his father-in-law.

  “Dominic misses you,” Miranda stated. She must have misinterpreted my wistfulness.

  “How is he?” I asked and took a bite out of a slice of pizza. Grease dripped down my chin and I had to set the slice down to reach for the napkin. Only having one arm to use had its inconveniences.

  “He’s good. He’s going to be moved to Aunt Angela’s and Uncle Rico’s tomorrow. He wants you there,” she stared at me, her green eyes so much like Dominic’s. I knew I needed to go see him. They would think it odd if I didn’t.

  “I’ll be there,” I promised. My nerves started to flitter and I lost my appetite. The half eaten slice remained on the paper plate, the grease beginning to congeal.

  Sleep was elusive and I tossed and turned, although my movements were limited - whenever I went to toss or turn onto my injured shoulder I would wake up. I was awake when the sun peeked above the horizon. The sky lightened and went from dark gray, to gray and eventually to a clear blue. I watched nature’s canvas from the deck. A blanket formed a cocoon around my body to keep out the morning chill. The ferry boat, which looked like a yellow dot on the riv
er, had made several trips back and forth from Camden to Philly before I stood up to get ready. Miranda would arrive soon to take me to see Dominic.

  Leaving Dom was going to be the most difficult. I had surrendered my heart, my soul, my whole being to him. Not having him around this week had helped. I was already able to imagine life without him. Now, I was going to visit him and was terrified he would be able to see right through me and know what I was up to. The feelings he brought out in me, even with just the touch of his hand, were going to be painful reminders of what I was leaving behind.

  As I got dressed, I mentally prepared myself for our reunion. I needed to stick to my plan and not let my heart interfere. I forced myself to focus on the images of the man I shot and of Brittany after she had been all but destroyed by those men. This helped to fortify my resolve. I could do this, I told myself. Miranda arrived and I went downstairs to get in her Mercedes.

  “You look tired,” she commented. “Trouble sleeping?”

  “Yeah, my shoulder makes it hard to get comfortable.”

  “I bet. I’ve never been shot before, I bet it hurts…what did it feel like?” She asked with morbid curiosity. I thought about the best way to describe it so she could relate.

  “Remember when you got your ears pierced and you had the incredible pressure at first and then as the blood rushed to the ear your lobe got hot?” she nodded her head, her eyes focused on the road, but listening to every word I said. “Then the pain starts. Like a stinging, burning, throbbing pain?” she nodded again. “Well it’s like that magnified by a thousand times.” She slowed down for a red light and turned to stare at me. Her mouth hung open slightly.

  “That sounds horrible!”

  “It is.” The light had turned green and she turned her attention back to the road. I could see her glance at me out of the corner of my eye.

  “What?” I asked.

  “What was,” she hesitated. “What was it like to shoot someone?” She seemed intrigued to know and kind of excited, like she was living vicariously through my big mafia moment.