by Gina LaManna
“I am not going out with them. Nora, I’ve got to go,” I said. I didn’t know how much longer I could keep my cool.
“You’re going to hang up on me?” Nora’s voice took on a hurt, almost sharp tone I’d rarely heard her use before.
“I’m not hanging up. I just...I need some time to cool down. Forcing me to do anything isn’t going to work. I’m sorry, that’s just not how I’m wired.”
“You have to listen, Lacey. I have your best interests at heart.”
“You might mean well, but I still have to make my own mistakes, as much as it might hurt to watch,” I said. “And I am not going out with any of those men.”
There was silence on the line, and I couldn’t bring myself to press the hang-up button. I couldn’t do it; she was still my grandmother, no matter how much she meddled in my relationships. I’d missed her for the majority of my life so far, and I’d try my darndest to keep her close for the rest of it.
“There’s nothing you want to tell me?” Nora asked, her voice disappointed. “Why won’t you try, Lacey? You say you’re open to it, and then you turn everyone down.”
I hated to lie. I hated myself for lying. But this was a new side of Nora, one that made me wary of disclosing my relationship details so soon. I just couldn’t. I wouldn’t take the risk of family coming between Anthony and me. This was something we needed to discuss together, as a couple.
“No.” I stared at the grass. “I don’t have any more to say on the subject.”
“Goodbye, Lacey.”
“Goodbye.”
When the line went dead, my stomach plummeted. I hadn’t felt this terrible about myself in a long time. Letting out a guttural groan that bordered on a growl, I leaned back against the cool steel of the floor and closed my eyes. I don’t know how long I lay there, my insides twisted up in knots, as I contemplated the pros and cons of calling Nora back and apologizing. I should, if for no other reason than to keep in her good graces and remain close to my grandparents. That was worth something, right?
Plus, if I upset Nora enough, I could lose my job working for the Family, just when I’d started to gain some traction. If I failed at being a mobsterista, I was in trouble. Going back to stripping wasn’t really an option, not the way I’d gone out with a real bang – to my head – and polishing up my resume would prove to be difficult, considering the last five years.
But there was the small nugget of stubbornness inside me, the little voice that said I hadn’t done anything wrong, except to raise my voice. And omit the fact that I had a boyfriend. But honestly, if I didn’t want to date an Italian man with one continuous eyebrow, shouldn’t that be my decision?
I clicked into my contact list and pulled up Nora’s number. My thumb hovered over the green Call button, until finally I closed my eyes and pressed it. When I opened my eyes a moment later, however, I saw something more troubling than the green light signaling that Nora had picked up the phone.
“Hello?” my grandmother answered. “Lacey, is that you? How did my phone know it was you? It said your name on my screen. First and last name...who is this?”
“I’ll have to call you back.” I hung up, trying to keep my heart calm.
I’d caught a glimpse of movement near the edge of the woods. There was a chance I was worrying for nothing; it could be a grazing deer, a loose dog, or just the rustle of dense underbrush. But my gut told me none of those were correct. My spine tingled, goosebumps pricked my skin, and the feeling of being watched slid slowly down my back, as if someone had cracked an egg on my head.
Pulling myself into a sitting position, I pretended to browse my phone, ignoring Nora’s call back. As soon as I pressed End to hang up on Nora’s repeated return phone calls, I put the phone to my ear, pretending I’d answered, and spoke louder than necessary.
“Hello? Anthony? Is that you...boyfriend?” If there was someone watching me, I wanted them to be well aware that I had a boyfriend, and that he was nearby.
“Yes, I’m just in the park by the water tower, walking home now. I’ll be home in five minutes and see you then.” I paused, as if waiting for a response. My voice carried throughout the park, thanks to the stillness in the air and my height on the tower.
“If I don’t come home,” I said, for added emphasis, “come find me at the park, or—”
Before I could finish talking, my phone rang. Which totally ruined the illusion that I’d been on a legitimate phone call in the first place, and instead made me look like a crazy person talking to myself. I cursed myself for not setting the phone to silent, lamenting Nora’s need to return my call six times. She didn’t understand that I could see her missed calls, and that calling me more often didn’t mean I would magically be available to talk.
Making my way to the stairs, I hesitated at the top. Having thought I’d be going for a leisurely afternoon stroll, I hadn’t brought a single thing I could use as a weapon. I had my phone, some loose shorts that Meg had declared wildly out of style, and my guns. The bicep kind, not the real kind. Meaning…I had only mashed potatoes, since arm strength wasn’t particularly my forte.
The longer I waited at the top, the longer I gave my invisible friend time to build a plan, if he hadn’t already, to trap me. If that’s what he (or they) were trying to do. But with all the suspicious events happening around here as of late, I was willing to guess that it wasn’t a friendly neighbor hanging out in the shadows and bringing me a “Welcome to the Neighborhood” cake.
Taking a deep breath, I hurdled myself down the stairs, taking the clanking old steps just as fast as my legs would carry me. I patted myself on the back for foregoing swimsuit attire as Meg had suggested, else I would’ve been bouncing all over the place. I kept my arms out in front, just in case someone had hidden in the staircase. What I’d do with my arms, I wasn’t sure, but they felt more useful waving around instead of flopping aimlessly at my sides.
Bursting onto firm, grassy ground, I could hardly believe I’d made it all the way down in one piece. An alternate scenario crossed my mind and froze my blood: what if I’d fallen asleep up there and someone had pushed me off?
I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding, keeping my pace snappy as I marched across the park. Halfway through, the feeling of being watched intensified, and I couldn’t help glancing back over my shoulder as I eased into a jog.
Another shuffle in the branches on the other side of the swing set.
My fears became justified when I saw the hand resting on the trunk of the tree, the rest of the body hidden in the shadows. I was too far away, too terrified to notice anything special about the hand, except that it was human. I’d never prided myself on having a keen eye for detail, and this was no exception.
But I did know that someone was waiting, watching. Whether someone had followed me here or stumbled across me unknowingly, that didn’t change the end result: the figure didn’t want to be seen.
Chapter 20
“Girl, you are sweating like...I dunno. I was gonna say a pig, but I’m not all that convinced pigs sweat,” Meg said, stretching as she sat up in her hammock. Her eyes bright and refreshed, she eyed my significantly less refreshed figure.
I climbed up the stairs to the front porch, feeling as soggy as bread that’d soaked overnight in water. The humidity in the air had done a number on me as I’d sprinted home, the fear and adrenaline adding to my already unhealthy amount of perspiration. It was a good thing nobody was around except Meg at the moment, and I could guarantee she’d seen worse.
“You look like a drowned rat who was dunked in ketchup and then went on the Tilt-a-Whirl. Are you gonna puke? Why is your face so red? It’s hurting my eyes.” Meg yawned. “If napping is that difficult, chickie, you’re doing it wrong. Watch and learn.”
I watched as Meg flipped back into her hammock, her eyes closing and her mouth opening as the snores resumed. It was as if I had never left. I took the moment to switch my drink with hers; somehow, Meg’s glass had remained icy and cold, while mine
felt like bathwater.
Inhaling huge gulps of the concoction, some of the alcohol went straight to my head, which is partially what I’d intended. I couldn’t seem to relax, to calm myself down after my jaunt home. When I’d seen the hand on the tree trunk, it’d taken me only a few seconds to recognize it as a bad sign and get my behind in gear. I broke into a full on sprint, reaching the small frontage road moments later. It wasn’t a heavily trafficked street, but I ran straight down the middle, desperately hoping a car would pass. Any car would do, but if I were really lucky, it’d be Anthony.
Not a single motor vehicle had trundled by, so I’d kept my finger hovered over Anthony’s number on my phone. I still didn’t know what sort of errand he was running, and I didn’t particularly want to call four more times if I didn’t have to, petty or not.
Luckily, the feeling of being watched had dissipated by the time I’d reached the cabin, exhausted and on the verge of heatstroke as I came to the edge of the Luzzi cabin’s driveway. I guessed that the figure from the trees hadn’t bothered to follow me home. Which wasn’t as much a relief as I wanted, because the chances he knew where I was staying were pretty high. The chances he’d been watching me and knew I’d gone to the park, even higher.
“You know, I’m not really sleeping,” Meg said, sounding a bit cross. “I saw you steal my beverage.”
“I was in danger of dehydration,” I said, taking another long slurp. “And your special happy potion was the first cure available.”
“It’s a happy potion, all right. You’re lucky there’s more where it came from. Now, are you gonna tell me where you’ve been or are you going to just sit there and melt all afternoon?”
“Is anyone else around?” I peeked over Meg’s shoulder.
“None of the cars are back, and I didn’t see any surprise visitors show up. Or hear them, at least. My eyes were closed, you know.”
I quickly explained about visiting the water tower and feeling like someone was watching. I left out the argument with Nora. For some reason, I wanted to keep that private for now. When I got to the part about the hand on the tree trunk, Meg looked skeptical.
“Could’ve just been someone picking raspberries. Or walking their poodle.”
“Could be…but my gut says otherwise.”
“Well, your gut is made out of sugar and Long Island iced teas at the moment, so it might be a bit unreliable.”
I shook my head. “I can’t just write this off, not with all the other weird things happening. Have you heard from Anthony?”
Meg shook her head. “I’m waiting for the other three stooges to hunt and gather some real food. No offense girlfriend, but your whole raw bread diet isn’t working for me.”
It wasn’t working for me either; my stomach rumbled loudly, but we were still a few hours away from dinner time.
“I’m going to jump in the shower and try and figure out what to do next.”
“I told you what to do next – relax.” Meg placed her ginormous sunglasses over her face, leaned back, and began swinging so quickly I feared the hammock would flip her right off.
I lifted my stolen drink from the table and carried it with me inside. I wasn’t having much success relaxing so far, but if anything could help, it would be this concoction. In the shower I let the water run through my salty hair, wash away the fear and sweat from my afternoon race through town, and contemplated my next step.
I needed to find a name for the body. Or take Meg back to the park and poke around, see if I could find anything about my secret admirer. I wanted to call Clay, but again I couldn’t think of what to tell him without names or photos. Maybe it was worth a shot anyway – calling my cousin to see if he could dig into the police records and check if they’d had any luck identifying said body.
Most importantly, I wanted to hear from Anthony. I wanted him back at the house, near me. Having him around helped me maintain a certain calmness, even in the face of emergencies. With him not only gone, but mysteriously unavailable, I felt off, vulnerable. I didn’t like the feeling, but I couldn’t exactly put my finger on which part upset me more…that he wasn’t here, or that I didn’t know where he had gone.
The beep of my phone interrupted my stream-of-shower thoughts. I was done in there anyway, the only thing I was accomplishing at this point was ensuring my skin became a complete prune. I quickly toweled off, reading my new message in the process.
Anthony: We found a name. Joseph Facelli.
Me: Just to be clear...who is Joseph?
I was dressed and ready to find Meg and tell her the news when I received a reply.
Anthony: The man in your trunk.
Me: Thanks! How did you find out—
But I paused and deleted the message. I didn’t think Anthony would tell me, and I also didn’t want to have this conversation via text. Instead, I picked up the phone and dialed. To my dismay, it went straight to voicemail. The girlie part of my brain told me not to text him, to wait until he called me back, but the adult part of my brain told me that playing games was overrated. I want to talk to him, darn it, so I would let him know.
Me: Thanks for the information. When will you be back? I miss you.
I didn’t mean to go so far and tell him that I missed him – hello, clingy girlfriend – but I didn’t bother to delete it, either. It was the truth, and he could take it or leave it.
Anthony: Sorry, can’t talk. I miss you too. Won’t be back til late tonight, one more task to finish up.
Task? Why on earth was he tasking without me? He wouldn’t even be here if I hadn’t called him and filled him in on everything. Carlos hadn’t included him on this assignment, or rather, favor. I sighed. This was another conversation that had no chance of going well over texts.
Me: What are you doing?
I sent it before I could stop myself. I needed to test the waters, see what he’d say.
Anthony: Taking care of a problem. Making sure you’re safe.
My first reaction was anger. Why did Anthony think I was incapable of taking care of my own problems? If anything, I’d proven more than ever lately that I wasn’t one hundred percent an idiot, one hundred percent of the time. I made mistakes still, lots of them, but I was gaining experience, getting better with each assignment, judging by the fewer number of recent explosions.
After a minute of furiously swiping on deodorant, I calmed down a notch and considered what was really happening. Anthony was an alpha male, most likely always had been, and I had to remember that he was doing this from the right place in his heart. That he was dealing with problems the only way he knew how. To eliminate them.
We’d have to talk about exactly how he’d do so in the future, and how he worded his texts to me. Because I didn’t like feeling as if I had no say in the matter. Plus, he could really stand to use a few emojis and smiley faces. Maybe even a heart, now and again.
With a sigh, I carried my phone to the kitchen, still debating whether I had a good response for his message. I didn’t, not with the things I truly wanted to say. They were too personal for the sterile communication of text messages.
Instead of responding, I scoured the cupboards for anything to snack on – anything at all, even a peanut shell. My shoulders relaxed and some of the tension eased away, as I reminded myself that Anthony would be back soon. And despite his lack of emoji skills, I never once doubted he cared about me. My initial frustrated emotions dissipated, only to be replaced by a feeling of appreciation. I was lucky.
Me: Be safe, and hurry back. I can’t wait to see you!
Even though I was a badass mobsterista (or so I liked to think), I debated over the exclamation mark. Because as tough as I’d become, I was still, first and foremost, just a girl with a heart.
Chapter 21
“Aha!” I had discovered a box of old, probably stale Barilla pasta stashed far, far in the dusty back corner of the pantry. “Snack time.”
I set the box out on the counter, running through an internal debate about
what should happen next. As much as my stomach wanted some food, I wanted information even more. I retreated to my room and flopped on the bed – or what was left of the bed – and lay spread-eagle. At this point, the “bed” was more of a mattress floating in a pool of wooden shards, some of which were more pointy than others. Thankfully there was enough cushion between my body and most of the splinters, so I ignored the mess and focused on not listening to the thunderous growls happening in my stomach.
As difficult as it had been to leave the pasta, I needed to call Clay. Hopefully it wouldn’t take long. If I could get him started with the name, there was a chance he’d have a list of information about the guy by the time my water boiled.
“Joseph Facelli,” I murmured, “it’s time to find out just how...and why...you ended up in in my vehicle.” Dialing Clay, I was surprised when he picked up on the first ring.
“Clay?” I spoke first, the reception a bit staticky.
“You called me, so yes.” Clay sounded distracted, and I could hear a keyboard clack, clack, clacking in the background. “What’s up? How’s vacation?”
“It’s fine…”
“Just fine?”
“Well, some of the relaxation was ruined when my car turned into a crime scene.” The line went quiet, the silence so loud I almost wished Clay had kept typing away. Now I had his full attention. I didn’t like having Clay’s full attention, because that usually meant something had gone terribly wrong.
“Did you hear about this little development?” Though I hadn’t updated Carlos, that didn’t mean Clay wouldn’t have found out through his other channels. He usually acquired information before I did, even when I was involved.
“I haven’t...” His voice lilted, a hint of a question in his words.
“That’s weird. You hear about everything.”
“Yes, typically I do. Which is why you’ve piqued my curiosity.”
A few keys clicked away in the background. “I’m sure you’ll see what I’m talking about in a minute…” I waited for Clay to stumble upon the information. By stumble upon, I meant hack into the police scanners and files and pull any reports that might’ve been filed.