Stolen Secrets

by Cayce Poponea

  “I’m going with Gabby. We planned to grab a cab.”

  As I entered the store, I could almost taste the caramel. An older woman was stirring a large copper kettle to my left, her wooden spoon going round and round as steam rolled off the thickening goodness. “Then I insist you allow me the honor of escorting you both. You shouldn’t have to take public transportation to a dinner in the city. What time shall I pick you and Gabby up?” Gabby would be my greatest resource. She would help me get to know more about Ari.

  “Dinner’s at seven-thirty.”

  “Fantastic. I’ll pick you both up at a quarter after. Oh, and Ari…” I gave her a pause of my own, “…I’m very much looking forward to tonight.” I ended the call without waiting for an answer then bought a box of the freshly made candy before jumping back into my car and heading toward my future.

  DOMINICK WAS PRECISELY ON TIME. His suit more formal than he normally wore and his eyes seemed to shine a little more than usual, as well. He handed me a simple gold box with a bright red ribbon wrapped around it. I opened the lid with caution, only to discover the candy he’d spoken so fondly of.

  “I wanted you to taste what I tried, and failed, to describe. Perhaps creating a pleasant memory for you, too.”

  I remembered the nostalgic look he’d worn while telling me the story of sampling the candy. I would have loved to have met a young Dominick, before his world hardened him. Speaking of that world, I’d debated on how exactly to approach the subject of how much this protection was going to cost me. I wasn’t an idiot; Corey had charged a few bars back home. He kept his men out of them and his business to select places. Corey, however, hadn’t carried himself the way Dominick does. Where Corey wore oversized jeans and the latest tennis shoe fad, Dominick dressed in tailored suits and wore expensive watches. Where Corey had been a foot soldier, Dominick was a leader.

  Dominick waited while Gabby and I made certain the shop was locked and secure. Once inside his car, he spoke of the different buildings we passed. I hummed and smiled, but made no real comment, worrying I would open my mouth and say the wrong thing. Living with Corey had taught me it was better to keep your mouth shut and ears open.

  Dominick eventually pulled up to the curb of a large building. Several men rushed out eager to help Gabby and me out of the car, and to have the opportunity to drive Dominick’s shiny black sports car.

  “Ms. Taylor,” a young man in a vest and bow tie addressed me. I smiled and took his outstretched hand, using it to pull my way out of the low riding car.

  “I’ve got her.” Dominick’s eyes, which moments before shined with happiness, were now dark and menacing. His clipped tone was full of power and intimidation. The young man scurried away never giving Dominick a second look.

  “Shall we?” Dominick extended an arm to me, and then his free one to Gabby. Like a scene from a horror movie, he transformed from a domineering powerful man to the polite gentleman he was pretending to be. “If I die in the next ten seconds, it will be as a happy man.”

  “Awe, how sweet and genuine, especially considering you aren’t trying to get into my pants.” Gabby giggled and wrapped her upper body around his arm.

  “At least that’s true for one of us,” I mumbled under my breath. I wondered what the odds were to his question, if his death was imminent.

  Once the door to the restaurant opened, it was as if I’d stepped into someone else’s life. The owner stood at the ready with his hand extended, showing us the way to our table. Dominick began to greet the older man as an interior door opened to reveal a well-dressed gentleman, surrounded by young ladies and huge men in black suits, blocking our path.

  “Dominick. I should have known this was a Santos event when they refused a man such as myself a table.” He scowled in the owner’s direction, eliciting a chill of fear on the poor man’s face.

  “Mr. Gallo.” Dominick extended the arm, which had been given to Gabby to shake Gallo’s hand. Everything between them seemed tense, like a silent war was brewing.

  “And this must be the Ari Taylor I’ve heard so much about.” Scanning my body up and down, his eyebrow twitched when his eyes stopped momentarily on my chest. Corey had decked a few guys for spending too much time checking me out, disrespecting me in the process of calling me his property at the same time. “She is beautiful, Dominick, you always choose them well.”

  A shiver of relief rippled down my spine. This dog and pony show Dominick was currently entertaining me with had to be a new approach for him. Once he figured out I wasn’t worth the effort, he would move on to the next challenge. I would just have to hold on to my resolve, keeping him at arm’s length.

  When Dominick didn’t respond to Gallo, he adjusted his jacket, letting the two ladies beside him take his arms again. “Well, enjoy your evening. Say hello to your gorgeous mother for me, won’t you?” Holding his head up he walked into the night while his sideshow hookers showed him the attention he was paying them for.

  Was this what Dominick looked like when he had Marissa at his side? Voluptuous and tacky all rolled into one overpriced dinner date.

  “Shall we?”

  Several well-dressed patrons stood with backs to the wall as Dominick escorted us, his posture perfect and his stance strong. He walked as though he owned the world, or at least the room we occupied. Perhaps he did. Own this place, I mean.

  Men greeted Dominick and nodded to me. Women weaved their heads around one another, trying to get a look at us, at me, I suspected. Thinking back to Dominick’s birthday party, I recalled several of the same faces. This time their eyes and conversations included me.

  “Ari, I see someone I must speak with. My mother is standing near the bar and I will leave you in her company.”

  I stopped walking and pulled at him. “Thank you, but I can see her. You can go and have your conversation.”

  Dominick opened his mouth to respond, but thought for a split second and closed his mouth, nodding his head instead. Gabby kissed his cheek and mouthed a quick thank you before joining her arm in mine.

  “Well, well, well,” she whispered in my ear gaining my attention.

  I continued to scan the room, reflecting the eyes and whispers secretly placed behind diamond-adorned hands, concealing the truth of how they felt about me. Turning toward Gabby, I raised my eyebrow in question making her smile return with a vengeance.

  “It seems he has made a statement.” She used her own hand to conceal her version of the truth as she saw it. “He could have just pissed on you I guess, but considering where we are, he made the better choice.”

  Anger was rising in my bloodstream with ever-increasing levels. This celebratory dinner, just like the well applied makeup on the faces surrounding me, was yet another secret, a little white lie.

  Gabby tugged on my arm stopping me in place. “Here we go.”

  Nasal numbing levels of rancid perfume were introduced long before she delivered her well-rehearsed introduction. “Mrs. Taylor, Veronica Jones, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  Her boney, tanned hand was stretched out to shake mine, yet her red acrylic nails appeared ready to scratch my eyes out. Hints of orange caked the lines of her knuckles. Red pointed fingernails were handcrafted in a high-end nail salon—based on the diamond bracelet reflecting the lighting in the room. How many backs had she scratched as she faked an orgasm? How many eyes had she clawed out as she kissed cheeks, greeting them as she did me right now?

  “It’s Ms. Taylor actually, I’m not married.” I’ve never cared for people who felt the need to make themselves feel better at the cost of others. She would no doubt run back to her circle of trolls, constructing facts based on what was most likely scandalous to hear, instead of the truth.

  “Oh? Well, then, I must introduce you to my daughter Tiffany.”

  Veronica, or Vivi, Gabby informed me, was a name I recognized as one of the many women Mr. Salluzzo sent flowers to every week. Sadly, Tiffany was also on his delivery list.

  After sev
eral more women introduced themselves, all insisting I meet their daughters as well, Gabby dragged me to the bar. Apologizing and excusing ourselves, we bolted in that direction. “Okay, why do I feel like I’m at a coming out party instead of a dinner to celebrate buying a business?”

  Gabby snorted; losing the drink she had sipped, as she pulled me to a stop again. “Listen, pretend I’m telling you something funny and look at my phone while we talk.” A picture of a shirtless Logan illuminated the screen. “In Dominick’s family, having stability is important. Sophia told me a while back, Antonio was putting the screws to Dominick to settle down. He has to show he’s in a position to take over the Family business.”

  I wanted to gag on their term “family business,” but I needed my head to stay connected to my body, so I kept pretending I was reading her screen. If you have balls enough to put a gun to a man’s head, demanding money you didn’t earn, you should be able to stand behind what you really are: the motherfucking Mafia.

  “All these wives are going to try and get on your good side. Some of them have pissed off Sophia in the past, thinking if they’re in your good graces now, you’ll allow them in your inner circle when you’re in Sophia’s position.”

  A cold shiver touched my spine as I remembered the conversation from earlier with Mr. Gallo about always ‘choosing the beautiful ones’. Was all of this some sort of an interview? The final panel meet and great to see if I had enough poise and personality to handle the turned head requirement of the job?

  Gabby tapped on her screen and a new photo appeared, another picture of Logan and several of his buddies with beers in hand, making goofy faces. “When Dominick takes over the business, he will also take over as head of the Family. Make no mistake, he has his sights set on you.” Another tap brought up a video of Logan and his friends; they were singing or doing something crazy.

  My laughter was not of enjoyment, but from a basic instinct to avoid showing my cards. Why me? Why not one of the plentitude of women who stood by, willing to give anything and everything to be Mrs. Dominick Santos. No one knew of the life I’d left behind in New Orleans. I had been too careful covering my tracks. So, again, why me?

  “Ladies, compliments of Mr. Santos.” An older gentleman set two champagne flutes of bubbly liquid before us.

  I used every ounce of self-restraint not to guzzle the glass and ask for the entire bottle… and a straw. Anger flashed red before my eyes. There was no refusing this offer, no slipping out the back alley or being swallowed by a crowd. While my past might not be haunting me, it sure as hell was knocking on the door. Nausea filled my empty stomach. With a clarity more defined than the chandelier hanging in the entry behind me, I took in the room for exactly what it really was.

  Gabby choked on her drink, eyes watering from inhaling the liquid. She wiped her lips several times while a waiter took her empty glass and handed her a stack of cocktail napkins. Even a choking mess, Gabby remained breathtaking. With a new glass and her breathing back to normal, she glanced over my shoulder. I followed her eyes to where Dominick was having what looked like a heated conversation with a gorilla of a man. A beautifully dressed Karla was standing beside the man Dominick seemed to be angry with.

  “I heard he moved Marissa out of the condo and told her to find a new paycheck. He was especially angry after he found out she was fucking a few of his men.” Gabby added as she swiped the screen of her phone, another photo of her and Logan filling the screen.

  Same double standard, a different level of criminal. I’d spent a few hours scanning the internet trying to locate the origin behind the scar on Dominick’s neck. Most of what I’d found came back as cattle branding; however, when I was about to give up, I found an article on different forms of tattooing. Many years ago, when tattoos started becoming too common, an old tradition of branding was reintroduced with certain underground Family’s. Men, and some women, were selected to hold higher levels of command. The person charged with the responsibility of leading the Family would have symbolic images burned into the skin by a high ranking member of the Family. This practice reduced the amount of fake members, those who would try to pose as a member in order to infiltrate a Family in an attempt to destroy from within. In most instances, a ring was the preferred object to be heated for the branding—the more elaborate designs, the better, yet closer to the original made in Sicily, Italy.

  “I’m telling you, Ari, you need to prepare yourself for some serious attention from one Dominick Santos.”

  Gabby was right about one thing. As the night progressed, the women in the room did try and get me to remember them. Whether it was telling me my hair was beautiful or that my eyes were a unique shade. Some even complimented how shapely my figure was while remarking on how much time I spent in the gym.

  Dinner was served, my place marked between Sophia and Gabby. Various Italian dishes covered the elongated table. Antonio made a few toasts as Sophia stood up straight, beaming with pride. The last words spoken were in Italian. I hadn’t a clue what he said, but he raised his glass to Dominick, and then looked in my direction. Something told me by buying the shop, I had made a deal with the devil.

  Once dinner had been consumed, everyone visited while dessert was offered. The women around our table seemed to have no volume control when it came to talking about Dominick, especially regarding the number of women who would be lined up to be his mistress. In all fairness, it seemed like a good gig if you were chosen: a condo he paid for, a monthly allowance, and protection provided by his men. Mothers spoke to each other comparing their daughters against the other. There was unanimous agreement someone named Miranda would be the stiffest competition, however.

  Looking to Antonio and Sophia I questioned how many mistresses he had, and how she dealt with his unfaithfulness. For some money and security would be enough. For me, though, they were just things. I wanted love. Now it seemed I would never know what that felt like.

  Leaving the restaurant was done surrounded by suited men, a silent confirmation of what I had already deduced. Dominick Santos was a confident, powerful, and handsome man. He was also knee deep in organized crime, literally.

  It seems no matter how far you go or how fast you travel, trouble always finds you. I’d been running for so long, and now found myself trapped like a caged animal, tranquilized and helpless.

  When I returned from dinner, I looked up several articles pertaining to selling the shop. If I chose to sell, I would face a huge penalty. I would end up giving away half of my money. A store across the street, with no prior businesses had sold a year ago, for nearly a million dollars. Property taxes last year on the deli were more than thirty-thousand dollars. My shop was one of the larger buildings, according to public records, yet the taxable property was only a few thousand dollars. My excitement over owning my own business had clouded my judgment for examining my decision more thoroughly. If it sounds too good to be true, it most likely is.

  The only choice I had was to stay, and allow Dominick to pursue me. He was unquestionably an extremely handsome man, wealthy, and possessed more power than I was ready to admit. He also knew what all of his attributes were and, apparently, used them to his advantage.

  The Burgess wedding was scheduled for tomorrow afternoon, so, after tossing and turning in my bed for hours, I got up and headed down to my shop to try and get my mind off everything. The bride had called at the last minute in tears when the company she’d ordered bows from shipped them to the wrong address. I’d assured her we could make her pew bows in time for her wedding. The white satin ribbon we used was running low, however. Knowing we had gotten in an order a few days ago, I went to check the storage room.

  Sophia and Gabby had done an amazing job of keeping the area organized. The shelves were clearly labeled so it took seconds to see the box I needed. Moving another box of floral wire out of the way, I noticed several of the floorboards were loose, even though the floor seemed newer. Living in Louisiana, if moisture got into the wood, it could cause some e
xpansion and often times warping. Sometimes if you turned the board over it fixed the problem. Hoping this was the case; I lifted the boards, ready to flip them. Instead of the padding I expected to see, there was a metal vault. Hesitantly, I opened the lid to find several handguns and ammo. Visions immediately flooded my mind of when I’d found Corey’s stash. I closed the lid, replaced the boards, and then grabbed the box I needed.

  Creating bows was something I didn’t need to think about as I did it. While it wasn’t my favorite thing to do, it could be done blindfolded and, in this instance with my shaking hands, this was a good thing since I had almost a hundred to make. Blocking out everything around me I concentrated on making the loops, it was easy. Right now, I needed easy.

  I was so lost in my loop, twist, loop, twist, and repeat that I startled myself when the scissors were knocked off the counter. Securing the wire around the bow, I bent over to grab them. As I stood up, my attention happened to go to the window which separated the front of the store from the back. The window was treated so one could see out into the shop, but the customer on the other side saw nothing but a mirror when they looked back.

  Sitting across the street was a black truck, a single cigarette illuminated as the occupant took a drag. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to know they were watching my shop, keeping an eye on what I did. Was this something new? Had I been so giddy over my new adventure, I’d become lost behind rose-colored glasses?

  Again, how does one ask how much this protection is going to cost? I closed my eyes tightly and released a cleansing breath. I knew the answer to that question… my hand in marriage. Marriage to a criminal. With a final cut of the ribbon, I laid the bow securely in the box with the others then headed back to my apartment.