“You crazy bitch,” he chuckled. “It’s done. They caught them both dead to rights. Those two fools thought they were so badass that they were untouchable. Damn,” he shouted, snapping his fingers sharply.
Willow sucked in a deep breath and fought back the urge to cry her eyes out. She was only partially successful as a lone tear trailed its way down her cheek. “Good,” she said, biting at her lip to keep her chin from quivering.
“Game over,” Marcario murmured, his dark eyes locking with hers as he moved with determination toward her. “You win.” He brushed back her hair from her face and ran his thumb over the wet path her tear had blazed. Leaning in, he kissed her with heat and force she wasn’t prepared for. It was the first time he’d ever touched her like this. She didn’t pull away from him, nor did she lean in to him. She let him kiss her and to her surprise, after a moment, he softened. The hand he’d clutched to her cheek let up and brushed across the bone of her chin as he took a step back.
“Who are you really, Claudia?” Marcario asked, narrowing his eyes at her.
“Why?” Willow shot back, staring at her shoes and steadying herself. The kiss, combined with the probing question, had rocked her and she was trying to regain her grip.
“I know that’s not your name, and I know you aren’t some tough chick who doesn’t care about anyone. Tell me who you are.”
“Why?” Willow repeated, now meeting his eyes and ignoring the fact that hers were filling quickly with tears.
“Because part of me is wondering if you and I could run off somewhere and be preppy normal people together instead of this shit. Maybe you go back to your life and I come with you.” Marcario sighed as he ran a finger from Willow’s elbow down to the palm of her hand.
“I don’t have any life to go back to and you wouldn’t give up what you have here. Being the top guy, the money, and the power.”
“You’re right,” he relented, running his hand over his shaved head. “But for some reason I still want to know who you are.”
Willow brushed away the tears before they could fall and turned to head back inside to grab her guitar. “So do I,” she whispered, realizing even if she wanted to tell Marcario who she was, she wouldn’t know where to start. If she knew the answer to that question, she likely wouldn’t be here in the first place.
When she stepped back outside, guitar in hand, Marcario was leaning against the old brick wall of the bar sucking in a long drag of a cigarette.
“I thought you’d be happier than this. Isn’t this what you wanted, Brad going to jail?” he asked, a puff of smoke billowing between his lips.
“I thought I’d be happier than this, too,” Willow admitted as she adjusted her guitar case under her arm. It was the story of her life, she thought to herself.
“That means you’re not done. Don’t tell me there is something out there worse than Brad. Something else you’re chasing. You’re on your own for that. I can’t get caught up in any more of your shit.” He had a look on his face that let her know that wasn’t true. If she asked, he would help her. They both knew it.
“I don’t want to be chasing it, but I can’t get some things out of my head. There was a time in my life when I saw things, and I wonder if I could have done more. I can’t stop wondering.”
“And you think you’re going to do something about it now?”
“I have no clue,” Willow sighed as she stared up at the sky. “I thought this was going to be it. I thought settling this would make me feel…”
“All healed?” Marcario laughed as a puff of smoke escaped his sinister smile. “Good luck kid. You can’t undo things you’ve done. Trust me.”
“You would if you could?” Willow asked, throwing him a sideways look. “You have regrets?”
“Look at me,” he scoffed, tossing down his cigarette and stepping assertively toward her. “You think anyone really wants to live like this? Always looking over their shoulder? Always wondering if their mother’s house is going to get a pipe bomb tossed in the window, or if their nephew is going to catch a bullet because of some twisted retribution shit. Yeah, I’ve got regrets.”
“So get out. With your competition out of the picture in six months, you’ll have more money than you probably ever had. Grab your family and go.”
“You might not know who you are, but I know who I am.” Marcario chanted as he pounded on his own chest. “I was born here. I’ll die here. And not of old age.” Marcario leaned in close to Willow as if he might kiss her again. “Be glad you don’t know who you are yet. It means you have a chance to still be something good. Brad can’t hurt you anymore. He can’t hurt anyone you care about. Maybe you should start looking at what’s ahead of you instead of what’s behind you.”
“If I thought I could outrun it, or force it out of my head, I would.” Willow spoke down toward her shoes afraid to tip her head back and imply she was welcoming another kiss. She didn’t love Marcario. His passionate kiss paled in comparison to what it felt like when her lips had met Josh’s. But tonight she was lonely. She was exhausted and disappointed in herself, in how she was feeling. If he tried to kiss her again, she didn’t think she’d have the willpower to stop him. She’d be following him back to his place, and she’d add to the pile of regrets and stupid choices she’d made over the years. So all she could do was stare at her boots, and pray he’d spare her.
“Then face it and move the hell on. Go be something great. Go sing for people. Use your voice to make them feel the way you make me feel when you sing.” As his lips inched closer to her downturned face she reached into her bag and pulled out a CD she’d made. She knew there was a chance this would be the last time she saw Marcario and she wanted to leave him a piece of herself. The part he loved. Her music.
“Here are some songs, the ones you like the best.”
“How do you know which ones I like the best?” he shot back as he took the CD from her and acted as though this gift didn’t mean the world to him. His tough guy bravado wouldn’t allow honesty in this moment.
“I can see it in your eyes when I sing. Marcario,” she hesitated as she drew in a deep breath, “you can still get out if you want to. It’s never too late. You could be something great too. Don’t stay in this life if it’s not what you want.”
He leaned in, kissed her forehead and pulled her in for a tight hug, one she wasn’t expecting. Did gang members usually hug? He was full of surprises tonight. “You’re wrong, but it’s nice to know someone thinks that about me. Now get out of here before I kiss you in a way that makes you drop that guitar and forget what day it is.”
Willow felt an ache spreading through her heart. Marcario was a complicated man, but he’d been kind to her. A friend and an ally when she didn’t think she wanted or needed one. He’d treated her like family and leaving him tonight was like walking straight into loneliness. Daunting, but she knew the alternative. Just like she’d become what her adoptive parents expected, and what she thought Brad wanted, she would quickly become who Marcario wanted, even if he wasn’t trying to make that happen. She’d fall into his lifestyle; she’d lose any chance of really finding herself if she got lost in him for the sake of comfort.
“Goodbye Marcario,” she mouthed as she walked backward a few steps before turning and hustling away. She needed the extra speed to maintain the courage to leave him.
As she headed back to her apartment, she knew what she had to do next. If she couldn’t silence the past that was fighting its way into her mind then she’d have to face it head on. She’d already started the road map; maybe it was time to follow it.
Stopping at the liquor store was impulsive, not strategic. Willow had pulled the wig from her head and run her fingers through her short blond hair to try to bring life back to it as she rounded the corner to her place. The bottle of rum was a nostalgic choice−her biological father’s drink−and when she twisted off the top, memories flooded back. The spicy smell was often on his breath, even the shape of the bottle, which hadn’t cha
nged all these years later, brought her back to those days. Dark days.
She wasn’t even to the top of the stairs of her apartment before she was taking the first swig. It had been a while since she’d gotten wasted, but tonight she wanted to sleep. Good sleep had been elusive lately, and tonight she knew she might need to help it along. It was easy to pretend this was a celebratory buzz she was looking for, but that wasn’t true. This was about escaping, numbing. Getting Brad busted hadn’t done it. The act didn’t fill the hole like she thought it would. So tonight, she’d settle for the burning warmth of being drunk, which didn’t take long.
As the room began to spin and she felt her eyelids growing heavy she flopped down onto the small wooden chair in the corner of the room. The apartment came furnished with a chair, a desk and a bed, which was all Willow needed. She could survive as long as she had a place to write music, sleep when she was able and research.
The research hadn’t been something she planned for. It didn’t start as much but the more her past bullied her brain the more the project had begun to take on a life of its own. It transitioned from a few pieced together memories in the margins of her notebooks to a full-scale collage of information pinned to her wall. Pictures. Notes. Websites. Phone numbers. They were all taped and tacked up in an order that on a good day made her feel like she was getting somewhere. But today was not a good day. Today, the wall seemed to be taunting her. It reminded her that even an enormous amount of information means nothing if you don’t do anything with it.
One phone number hadn’t made its way to the wall. It was on a piece of paper that had been handled so many times it was beginning to tatter, the ink starting to smudge. She’d picked it up and then tucked it away so frequently that she was surprised it hadn’t disintegrated yet. Looking down at the swirly scrawl of Betty’s handwriting, she bit her lip. It had been slipped into her bag without her knowledge back in Edenville. It read simply, Josh. In case you need him. Followed by his phone number.
What amazed Willow was the fact that Betty hadn’t known she was running off to California. She’d led them all to believe she was heading back to the comfort and isolation of Block Island with her parents. Would Betty still have left this note if she knew Willow was about to steal twenty thousand dollars from her college fund? Most people wouldn’t have, Willow knew. Betty wasn’t most people.
She picked up the shabby piece of paper and clumsily punched the numbers into her phone. As it began to ring, the spinning room seemed to increase its velocity, and she felt the urge to be sick. Josh’s voicemail picked up as she stared at the wall she’d created. Taking in the information she’d been able to remember suddenly overwhelmed her. The long beep that indicated she should speak her message should have had her hanging up the phone, but instead, she was talking. Rambling really and she couldn’t seem to stop herself. There weren’t thoughts of the consequences or what Josh might think. She just needed someone to talk to, she needed to get it all out, and at that moment his voicemail was the best listener she had.
Chapter Two
Normally they’d all be sitting on the porch by now. It was Wednesday night, dinner at Betty’s just finished, but tonight something was keeping them inside. As they gathered in the sitting room, Piper moved over and made a spot for Bobby on the couch. They all fell quiet as Bobby turned up the volume on the television. Piper looped her arm in his and leaned in her body against his firm shoulder. Even Betty was standing in the doorway of the sitting room, uncharacteristically neglecting the dinner dishes in order to hear the news broadcast Michael had called them all in for.
They sat with wide eyes and shaking heads as the reporter on the national evening news broke the story. Brad Angelo, son of Thomas Angelo, one of the most prominent lawyers in New York City, had been arrested last night for possession of a large amount of boutique drugs with the intent to distribute. The twist in the story was that the drugs were of the same chemical makeup that had been taken by Joel Silverrun, son of Senator Tom Silverrun. Joel had suffered brain damage as a result of the toxic compound. In turn, Brad would now be investigated for involvement in that case as well. He was being held without bail and his father could not be reached for comment, the anchor continued.
“What on God’s green earth is a boutique drug?” Betty asked with a perplexed look on her face. “Does it come with a fancy hat or something?”
“It’s a synthetic process for making drugs that are tailored to be sold to the wealthy. They are no different than street drugs, really. They just have a fancy name and marketing strategy that makes the rich people using them feel better about themselves. Shape that little pill like a heart, make it pink, and suddenly it’s acceptable for socialites,” Bobby explained, shaking his head in disgust.
“Is he really that stupid?” Piper questioned, looking over at Michael whose face was showing no reaction one way or the other. His courtroom glare, as Piper had come to know it. A lawyer couldn’t be overly emotional if he wanted to be successful.
“How could he keep dealing after how close he came to you and Willow getting him in trouble for putting his friend in the hospital from poorly made drugs?” Jules asked, her voice high and annoyed.
“No, he isn’t a stupid kid,” Michael replied, shaking his head and motioning for Bobby to turn the television off. “But he is that arrogant. An arrest like that, involving so much narcotics, he won’t be seeing the light of day for a long time. Not even his dad will be able to get him out of this.”
“Good,” Jedda grumbled, folding his arms over his chest. “He deserves to rot for what he did to Willow. The thought of his hand on her makes my blood boil. Letting him go, knowing he was out there has been driving me crazy. Now maybe this means Willow will go home, or even come back here.”
“Still no word from her?” Jules asked as she propped Frankie up on her shoulder and patted her back gently. Piper looked with pure joy at her best friend and her Godchild –two of her favorite people on this planet. It was strange how far Piper had climbed out of the hole that was her old life. Now she was a part of something, and that something kept growing all the time.
“I haven’t heard anything,” Jedda reported with a shrug and looked over at Bobby in case he had any update.
Bobby squeezed Piper’s hand as he spoke and she loved knowing he drew strength from her. The topic of Willow was contentious at times and he often relied on Piper for backup in the tough moments. “The phone we’re tracking her on is still in use and still in the same area of Southern California. But her parents haven’t heard anything from her either. I spoke to them a couple days ago and they’re still very concerned. I’ve had to talk them out of sending a private investigator out to track her down. I told them she left here upset and that some space would do her good. But I can tell they’re getting anxious to do something.”
Crystal ran her hand across Jedda’s stiff back and tried, as she always did, to find a silver lining. “I’m sure she’ll hear the news about Brad and that will give her some peace. She might not go running home, but she could reach out to someone. We should be hopeful for that.”
“I don’t see why we can’t just call the phone you’re tracking. Maybe we can tell her the news.” Jedda’s voice was urgent as this familiar argument started up once again. It didn’t come up every Wednesday night at dinner, but it was frequent enough and never resolved.
Bobby took his normal stance on it. “If she ditches that phone you could lose her for good.”
Like usual Michael backed him up. “Spooking her would be worse than anything. She’s out there trying to sort through how she feels. The best thing we can do is let her have space until she’s ready to come around again.”
As Jedda opened his mouth to argue, a very insistent knock on the front door drew everyone’s attention. They looked from one to another each seeming to take mental inventory and coming to the same conclusion: We’re all here so who could that be?
Betty stood and headed for the door, which was being po
unded on again. Bobby was quick to her side and Clay behind him. “Who is it?” Betty called and they all waited nervously for a response. A tiny part of Piper prayed it was Willow.
“It’s Josh, I need to talk to you.” His voice was choppy and labored as though he’d run there from town.
“For the love of all things holy, Joshua Nelson, you had me as worried as a turkey in November. Knock like a normal person next time,” Betty drawled, pulling open the door and promptly slapping Josh across the shoulder.
“I’m sorry, but it’s important and I wanted to catch you while you were all together. It’s about Willow.”
“You heard the news?” Michael asked, stepping into the kitchen and shaking Josh’s hand.
“What news?” Josh questioned, looking thoroughly perplexed. Piper sensed they weren’t all talking about the same thing as she sidled up to Bobby.
“Brad. He’s been arrested for a significant drug charge and it sounds like he’s going to get put away for long time,” Michael explained, but still Josh’s face looked confused.
“That’s what she must have been talking about,” Josh mumbled, as he dug his phone out of his pocket. “She left me a voice mail in the middle of the night last night. I’ve listened to it all day today trying to figure out what she was talking about, what she needs.”
“She called you?” Jedda asked, stepping forward with a demanding look on his face. “What did she say? Did she sound like she was all right? Why did you wait all day to tell us?”
“No. She did not sound all right,” Josh admitted, ignoring almost all of Jedda’s other questions. Instead, he pulled up the message and turned his phone so everyone in the room could hear it. Willow’s voice began and immediately Betty’s hand flew to her heart, protecting it from the ache in Willow’s tone.
Settling Scores (Piper Anderson Series) Page 2