“Merry Christmas, Natalie.”
“Merry Christmas, thank you,” I gave her a hug before standing up to leave.
I said goodbye and Callie walked me to the door. “You’re good with kids, especially helping Ally with her drawing. You should be a teacher.”
“I’ve thought about it, but…maybe someday.” I smiled, thanked her for a great evening and stepped out into the balmy night.
“Oh, Nat, I forgot to tell you. My accountant was working on the year-end paperwork for Dirty and your social security number was kicked back as incorrect. I guess the last two digits were transposed on your initial paperwork. We fixed it, but thought you should know.”
“Oh, okay, thanks!” I waved and walked to my car trying to keep a calm presence on the outside, when I was practically shitting my pants. I had deliberately transposed those numbers in order to stay off the grid. Marco had Philly police officers in his pocket and if he had them looking for me, Callie just raised a big old flag. I got in my car, the familiar fear clenching my stomach. A few calming breaths made me realize there was nothing I could do about it now and it wasn’t worth getting worked up over. Feeling all sorts of Zen after my self-talk, I backed out of Callie’s driveway and drove the speed limit home. Driving the speed limit, using my turn signal, not getting parking tickets were all conscientious efforts I took to keep my license plate from getting entered into the system.
After pulling into my parking spot in front of the apartment and sat in the dark car for a few minutes, just taking in my surroundings. The complex was quiet for the most part. An occasional flicker in a window indicated a television was on. A few of my neighbors had wrapped white lights around the railing of the walkway that ran the length of the building and several doors were decorated with wreaths. A car drove past and I froze, watching its progress in the rearview mirror, but after the car parked I realized it belonged to a newlywed couple who lived on the first floor. Their soft laughter filled the air as they walked by, hand in hand, to their apartment oblivious to my presence.
At that I moment, I realized how easily someone could be watching me.
***
The next morning, someone banging on the door woke me up. With Chelsea being out of town, she said I could sleep in her bed and sleep I did. Not being by the front door, there was less noise and with the blinds drawn, it was as dark as a cave. The pounding resumed on the door and I groaned, burrowing my head under a pillow. As I became more awake, I realized that I wasn’t expecting anyone and this thought set fire to my anxiety.
Still wearing sleep shorts and a tank top, I crept down the carpeted hallway to the front door. I was getting ready to peer through the peephole when the person knocked again. Operation Stealth Mode ended when I yelped and jumped back, my heart hammering in my chest.
“Princess, is that you?” Victor called.
I yanked the door open, holding my other hand over my throat as I greeted him with a shaky laugh. “You scared the shit out of me,” I chastised and let him in.
“I was knocking for like ten minutes, were you in a coma?”
“No.” I stood with my hands on my hips, glaring at him. “What time is it anyway?” Yawning, I turned and wandered into the kitchen to make a pot of coffee. That’s when I noticed it was already afternoon. I had slept right through Christmas morning.
“Merry Christmas,” Victor said and set a present down on the counter. It was wrapped in silver paper and had a giant red bow. I lifted the box, which was about the size of a lunchbox, and shook it. Nothing rattled and whatever was inside was heavy. “Go on, open it.”
“But, I didn’t get you anything.”
“So, that doesn’t matter.”
Curiosity won out so I carefully untied the bow only to shred the wrapping paper like a kid would, making Victor laugh. Inside was a gray metal case, but it was locked. He handed me a key and I immediately opened the case. What was inside the box made me pause and I jerked my eyes up to meet Victor’s. “Is that real?” I asked and he nodded. “And it’s mine?”
“Yes, Princess, it’s yours. Try it on for size.”
Very carefully, I lifted my present out of the case. It was cold and dense, but not too heavy and my hand fit the grip perfectly. Holding it away from my body and from Victor, I exhaled deeply at the memory of the last time I held a gun.
“Wow, not your typical stocking stuffer,” I commented and Victor laughed. His laugh was deep and infectious. I joined him, but soon sobered when I remembered I was holding a deadly weapon. I set the gun it its box like it was a venomous snake and quickly took a step back.
“Relax, it’s not loaded.” Victor chuckled and shook his head, taking a magazine out of his leather jacket pocket. He set it down next to my gun. “You are now the owner of a Glock 19. Do you know what the 19 means?”
“No.”
“It means there are 19 bullets in that magazine. Shooting lessons start tomorrow.”
“Really? Sweet. Thank you!” I threw myself at him, giving him a hug. He hesitated before wrapping his arms around me and returning the squeeze.
“There’s one more thing,” he said in my ear and I immediately tensed up, unsure if Victor had interpreted my hug as an invitation for more, but he pulled away and took a seat on one of the stools at the breakfast bar.
“What’s that?”
“Gio wants to meet you. He wants you to come to Christmas dinner and he won’t take no for an answer.”
Of course he wouldn’t. Crossing my arms over my chest, I sighed. “Fine. What time?”
Victor said he would pick me up at 6:00. After he left, I locked the gun safe and slid it underneath the futon before changing into shorts and a t-shirt to go for a run on the treadmill at the community fitness center. The run helped clear my head and it also made me realize I forgot to tell Victor about the social security number situation. Making a mental note to ask him when he picked me up, I continued running, enjoying the pleasant burn in my calves.
When I got back to the apartment, I showered and didn’t shave, enjoying the freedom of not having to impress a man with smooth legs. Not bothering to get dressed yet, I wandered into the kitchen and made a turkey avocado sandwich. Sitting down on the futon, I turned the TV on and flicked through the channels, passing holiday movie after holiday movie. There was The Christmas Story marathon and Scrooged, National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation, Trading Places and some horrifically cheesy movie on the Hallmark Channel. I settled on Home Alone, completely relating to Kevin McAllister since I was alone on Christmas without my family and evading bad guys.
At 5:30 I finished getting ready for dinner. I dressed in simple black pants and a dark green V-neck sweater. My hair had air dried without any product so it hung past my shoulders in loose waves. I kept my make-up light and natural. As I was slipping on a pair of black heels, there was a knock on the door.
Checking the peephole first, I recognized Victor’s profile and opened the door. He cleaned up quite nicely and was wearing dark blue jeans with a black button down shirt. All of his tattoos were covered except for the top part of a skull on the side of his neck, its blank eye sockets peering up over his collar. His hair was tied back and not hanging in front of his face, making his eyebrow piercing more visible.
“You look nice,” I said when I let him inside.
“You too. Ready?”
“Yes.” I grabbed my black Coach clutch and followed Victor outside, locking the door behind me. “Um, we’re not taking the Harley, are we?” I asked, pausing on the stairs leading to the parking lot.
Victor laughed. “No, I drove one of my cars.” He hit the key fob in his hand and headlights on a black Audi parked next to my BMW flashed. “You won’t get helmet head tonight.” he teased when he held the door open for me and I slid into a soft leather seat. Victor walked around the car and when he got in, his pant leg pulled up, revealing his ankle holster and gun. Seeing it reminded me of protection, which made me think of my social security number situation. I
explained to Victor what happened and asked him if I should be concerned.
“It might be an issue. I’ll mention it to Gio tonight. As of now we don’t think Marco knows you’re here, but if the cops on his payroll figure it out, then…”
I took a deep breath, keeping the panic in check. “Then we’ll deal with it.”
“Right,” Victor said, giving me an approving smile.
Victor drove us out of the city and up into the foothills where streetlights were spaced further and further apart until we reached an elevation where his Audi’s headlights provided the only light. In the distance, sprawling estates, built far away from the street offered a glimpse of civilization. Our views to the left were of a blanket of twinkling lights from urban sprawl far below. This blanket ended near the edge of the ocean, an inky black expanse stretching out until it disappeared into the night sky.
My phone vibrated in my clutch so I fished it out. Chelsea had texted me: Merry Christmas! Sorry, I can’t call, Mom is up my ass. I chuckled and wished her Merry Christmas. Seconds later my phone buzzed again. This was an incoming call from a number I didn’t recognize and it had a 215 area code – Philadelphia’s main area code. I hesitated, but answered right before it went to voicemail.
“Hello?”
“Merry Christmas!” Grant said and I relaxed.
“Merry Christmas to you, I almost didn’t answer.”
“I picked up another throwaway phone. How are you?”
“Good, I guess.” I told him I was with Victor and where we were going.
“I’m not surprised Gio wants to meet you. Just be careful, okay?”
“I will. Did you have a good Christmas?”
Grant told me about Christmas Eve dinner at Uncle Franco’s restaurant and my stomach growled when he mentioned the calamari. Surprisingly, I found myself craving one of Aunt Gloria’s hugs more than her food.
“How’s Dom?” My voice tapered off at the end, it even hurt to say his name.
“He’s determined…to deal with Marco and get you back. I miss you too. It doesn’t feel like Christmas without you here. Mom is in one of her moods and already went to bed.”
The holidays always drove our mom into a funk. Before our dad left, we had the best Christmas memories. Grant and I would get up at the crack of dawn and wake our parents up. After opening presents, dad would make blueberry pancakes with maple syrup and we’d eat in the living room surrounded by bunches of torn wrapping paper, cardboard boxes and yards of ribbon. All of that changed after he left us, it was like he packed up all the potential for holiday cheer in his suitcase and took it with him.
“Tell him about your social security number,” Victor interjected as he slowed down to turn into a gated driveway. A large wrought iron gate loomed ahead, its black metal bars illuminated by the headlights.
I filled Grant in and he promised to keep his ears open. “Don’t worry, Nat. Dom and I want to resolve this as soon as possible.”
“I know. “
We said goodbye as Victor parked behind a line of cars taking up the right side of the long, winding driveway. I walked beside him, trying to match my stride to his, but that proved impossible. Noticing this, Victor slowed his pace and I was able to appreciate our surroundings. I heard the fountain before I saw it in the center of the circular part of the driveway. Lights shone on the water and the wet peach sandstone looked almost red, reminding me of blood. I quickly turned away and focused on the grand entrance instead. A man stood outside; wearing all black he was almost invisible in the shadow.
“Nick,” Victor nodded to the man, placing his hand on the small of my back as he guided me inside to an incredible courtyard. White lights hung from a balcony that overlooked the piazza. A fire flickered in the chiminea and I saw the silhouettes of people sitting on love seats that were placed around the outdoor fireplace.
Victor escorted me across the courtyard and through French doors that led to the main house. The doors stood open and gauzy cream colored drapes blew in the light breeze. A group of men, all wearing varying shades of black, sat on leather furniture around a rustic wooden coffee table that reminded me of a stagecoach wheel. Tumblers full of amber liquid were on the table along with a couple bottles of beer.
“Hey Victor,” one of the men called, acknowledging our entrance. I didn’t miss the way his eyes wandered up and down my body. Apparently Victor didn’t either as he tucked me behind him, blocking the man’s view.
“Where’s Gio?” Victor asked.
“In his office.”
Victor turned and moved me so I was standing in front of him and he guided me down a hallway. We were nearing the end when we approached a door with a man standing guard. He was bald, built like a Navy Seal on steroids and had a vicious scar that ran down the length of his face, starting at the corner of his eye and pulling part of his mouth down into an extended frown.
“Hey Jimmy,” Victor called. Jimmy loosened himself from his military stance so he could hug Victor.
“Merry Christmas, Drago,” Jimmy said. I hovered back, trying to conceal my smirk at these beasts of men embracing, acting like normal people and not killers. After clapping each other on their backs, Jimmy nodded in my direction. “This is the girl?”
“Yeah. Natalie, meet Jimmy.”
I stepped forward, instantly feeling dwarfed in the presence of these two men, and held my hand out. It disappeared within Jimmy’s bear paw-sized hand. “Merry Christmas, Jimmy,” I said, meeting his eyes and not shying away. He grunted and a trace of a lopsided smile rippled across his lips before he released my hand to open the office door. Victor’s casual demeanor changed the moment the door swung open. His face became devoid of emotion and his body language stiffened, like he was a rusty tin man.
A man with salt and pepper hair sat behind an enormous wooden desk. His feet were propped up on the top and he was talking on a cell phone. After he ended his brief call, he stood and came around the desk. I was shocked at how short Mr. Bianchi was. In my heels, I was close to 5’7” and we were almost eye to eye.
“So, you’re Dominic’s girl, huh?” he said. Where Marco lived a life of excess and it showed in his pot belly and jowls, Gio was fit and wore a tailored black suit over a metallic gray shirt, which complimented his hair.
“Yes, hi, I’m Natalie. Thank you for inviting me.” Gio took my hand and brought it to his lips, placing a gentle kiss on the top, but didn’t release it right away. Instead he held on, his mouth hovering just above as he evaluated me.
“I can see what all the fuss is about,” he said, finally letting my hand go. “Welcome to my home, Natalie. Come, let’s go find my wife.” He gestured to follow him and I did, with Victor right behind me.
We walked back down the hallway and instead of going into the sitting room where we first came in, Gio veered to the right and we walked past a kitchen Martha Stewart would have sold stock tips for and entered a sun porch of sorts. The room was all glass and overlooked a pool, which was full of people.
“Samantha,” Gio called and a blonde woman, who looked like she recently graduated high school, glanced up from where she was sitting on a white leather sectional, surrounded by other women. She gracefully unfolded her long legs, smoothing her short skirt over her thighs, and sauntered over to us with a champagne flute in one hand. Up close I could tell she was older and had a fairly decent amount of plastic surgery because parts of her face appeared to be frozen, which I only noticed when we were introduced and she attempted to smile. Her cheeks didn’t want to move. Samantha Bianchi was taller than her husband. She had a willowy physique like a ballerina and her blond contrasted against Gio’s dark hair. “Samantha, this is Natalie, please show her around.”
Samantha appraised me with a hand on her hip. “Who is she again?” she asked Gio. Okay, bitchy much? I thought to myself while keeping a pleasant smile on my face.
“Victor’s friend, she’s new to town,” he explained. “Now go, I have business to take care of.” Gio dismissed h
is wife by turning away and walking back toward his office with Victor right behind him, leaving me with Samantha and her desperate housewife friends. I found a space to sit on the edge of the sectional and was introduced to the other women who were all mafia wives.
“So, you’re with Victor, huh?” one of them asked. I think she might have winked. It was either that or her thick mascara was so heavy she couldn’t keep her eye open.
“Yes, we’re friends.”
“Have you ridden on the back of his Harley?” she asked.
“I have, yes.”
The woman chuckled and took a large slurp of wine from her glass. “How was the ride?” She winked and this time I was sure it was wink as the other women giggled at the implied innuendo. For middle-aged women it sure felt like I was sitting with a bunch of high school girls.
“No, it’s not like that. We really are just friends.”
“And he brought you here for Christmas dinner? You don’t have to deny it. We’ve been trying to get a piece of that action for years. He’s a tough nut to crack. We want details.” She leaned in conspiratorially.
I felt the blush creeping up my neck, which probably only made me look guilty, but I was embarrassed…for these women. Fortunately the object of our conversation came by just then to rescue me and I smiled up at Victor with relief, which triggered another round of giggles. Victor looked from me to the women with a raised eyebrow. I shook my head and stood up. “Can you show me around out there?” I asked him, pointing through the picture window at the outdoor patio and pool.
Victor slid open the door and I stepped out onto a flagstone patio. To my left stood a bar replete with tiki torches and to the right was a full kitchen, with a built-in grill. The foundation was all stone and a wood paneled ceiling with recessed lighting and three ceiling fans ran the length of the house, extending past the grill. Tables and chairs as well as several chaise lounges were occupied and the pool was packed with kids of all ages. So far, every area I had been in, except for Gio’s office, was full of people.
Clean Slate (New Mafia Trilogy #2) Page 17