Clean Slate (New Mafia Trilogy #2)

by E. J. Fechenda

  “Are you hungry?” I asked. Veronica’s hands twisted on her lap as she fidgeted with a diamond ring too big to be real.

  “No, thank you.” She looked up from her hands. “I bet whatever trouble Tony is in, his cousin was behind it.”

  “Big Tone?”

  “Yeah, Tony doesn’t stand up to him.”

  “I know.” Little Tone’s nickname could have applied to the size of his balls.

  I was leaning against the doorway that connected the kitchen and dining room waiting for someone to come up to let me know we were ready to leave. They were taking too long.

  I pulled out my phone and texted Grant. Minutes passed and he didn’t respond.

  “Fuck! Come on,” I grabbed Veronica by her upper arm and brought her back downstairs with me. I heard muffled yelling before we reached the bottom of the stairs. “Stay here,” I ordered her and opened the door to the office.

  Big Tone was lying on the floor in a puddle of blood. His face was unrecognizable and he clearly wasn’t breathing. Grant and Egan were in a stand-off while Dante made sure Little Tone remained duct taped and seated. I didn’t think Dante had anything to worry about. Tears streamed down Little Tone’s face as he stared at his cousin’s lifeless body.

  “What the hell is going on?” I demanded, making sure to block Veronica’s view into the room.

  “Egan lost control,” Grant answered through gritted teeth, not taking his eyes off the Irishman.

  “Jesus fucking Christ,” I exhaled sharply and ran my hands through my hair. “Okay, Egan this is your mess and you’re cleaning it up. Dante, pull the cars into the driveway and grab the blankets.” I tossed him the keys and Grant handed him his, then I turned my head and looked at Veronica. “I need you to open your garage.” Fortunately, she had an attached garage, but we’d have to carry a bloody corpse through her house first. Veronica went with Dante and as soon as she was out of sight, I stepped into the room, locking the door behind me. I quickly surveyed the scene to see what clean-up was required. The floors were laminate and would be easy to clean. Since Big Tone wasn’t shot and his throat slashed, there wasn’t any blood splatter to deal with on the walls. Egan had basically crushed Big Tone’s skull with his fists, but head injuries were notoriously messy. We needed to wrap his head before moving him. I texted Dante instructing him to grab some garbage bags from Veronica.

  “This was supposed to be a quick job, but now we have a witness,” I said.

  “Go, I’ll take care of this,” Egan said

  “What do you mean?”

  “You told me I have a mess to clean up. I got this.”

  “Yeah, but you rode with me,” I said.

  “It’s not my first fucking rodeo, Grabano. Now go.”

  I bristled at his tone and stepped forward, my hands clenched into fists, but Grant intervened by moving between us. “This is a shit show, let Egan handle his mess.”

  There was a knock on the door that further broke up the tension building in the room. I opened it a crack. Dante was standing there with an armful of ratty blankets. A box of garbage bags sat on top of the pile. I could see Veronica hovering in the hallway behind him.

  “I won’t need any of that stuff,” Egan said. “Send the girl in when you leave.”

  I knew then that Veronica wouldn’t live to see the next day, probably not even the next hour. She was an innocent in all of this and only involved because of her boyfriend. I had my hand on the doorknob and Grant was behind me, ready to follow me out when I froze. Veronica might as well have been Natalie and I’d be worse than my uncle if I left her to die. He may have been an asshole, but at least he gave Natalie an ultimatum.

  “The girl lives and we do this my way.” I handed off the blankets and garbage bags to Grant. “Get started on the clean-up, I’ll be right back.”

  Dante went into the room and I left, taking Veronica into a guest bedroom across the hall. A twin sized bed with a hideous orange and brown blanket draped over it was against one wall. An avocado green dresser was against the opposite wall. Orange and brown calico print curtains covered the windows, only revealing a sliver of the outside world. Either Veronica was trapped in the 70’s or she inherited her grandparent’s house.

  “What’s going on?” she asked, her arms crossed.

  “Big Tone is dead and Little Tone is going to die tonight.” She gasped and covered her mouth with a hand. Her brown eyes were huge as she processed these words. “You have a choice. You can either join them or never tell a soul what went down here because if you do, you’ll end up dead anyway.”

  Veronica crossed the room and sunk down on the edge of the bed. Springs creaked when she sat. “I can’t believe this is happening,” she croaked out, cradling her head in her hands.

  “Well it is and I need your answer. What’s it gonna be?”

  “I won’t say anything. I promise.”

  “Good. Now we’ll clean this shit up and you won’t even know we were here. I suggest you stay out of the way unless you want to see something that can’t be unseen and remember: don’t tell anyone.”

  “I won’t.” The girl was close to hyperventilating and choking on tears when I left the room.

  After we loaded the two Tones into my trunk and cleaned up any evidence of Big Tone’s bludgeoning, I placed five hundred dollars on the dining room table, tucking it beneath the grease stained bucket of fried chicken. Veronica hadn’t moved from the bed in her guest room. She was no longer hyperventilating and was more catatonic; staring at a blank spot on the wall, mascara stained cheeks glistening in the light spilling in from the hallway.

  “You should have let me kill the bitch,” Egan said once we were in the car and heading back to the city.

  “I have my reasons for keeping her alive.”

  “What, that you’re a pussy?”

  It took me mere seconds to pull my car over, slam on the brakes and slam my fist into Egan’s face. He may pride himself on his bare knuckle boxing reputation, but it only took one punch for me to draw blood and two punches to break his nose. Before he could even retaliate, I had my gun pressed against his temple. “I am not a fucking pussy. Are we clear on that? ” I growled.

  Egan coughed, emitting a spray of blood and nodded, but I kept my gun aimed at him. “If I didn’t need our business deal so bad, I’d kill you Grabano. Are we clear on that?” He pressed the bottom of his shirt against his nose.

  “Crystal.” I took a deep breath and put my gun back in the holster before putting the car in drive and pulling away from the shoulder of the road.

  The rest of the trip was uneventful and silent. We dumped Big Tone’s body in the same garbage strewn patch of land by the airport where Uncle Marco was found. Yellow crime scene tape still flickered in the cold wind. Little Tone was hauled out of the trunk, his face three shades lighter than usual and his clothes soaked in his cousin’s blood. Grant forced him to his knees and Little Tone fell forward into the partially frozen mud, unable to brace his fall since his hands were duct taped together behind him. Grant hoisted him back up. I stepped before Little Tone and his eyes followed the barrel of my gun as I raised it. His whimpers and pleading were muffled by the duct tape over his mouth, but he wouldn’t be able to talk himself out of anything. A plane roared overhead and I pulled the trigger, the 747’s engines drowning out the gun shot. Little Tone slumped sideways, his eyes open in a vacant stare before he hit the ground.

  We deliberately left the bodies in this spot as a message to other Marco loyalists and I hoped the message was received.

  Chapter 33

  LOS ANGELES

  NATALIE

  Valentine’s Day arrived a week after Jason and I started officially dating. Fortunately it fell on a Monday, a day that Dirty was closed. It was a little after four in the afternoon and I hadn’t even started getting ready for our dinner date when there was a knock on the door. Chelsea wasn’t home from work yet, so I rolled off of the futon to answer.

  I recognized the brown
uniform of the UPS driver through the peephole and opened the door.

  “Natalie Ross?” the woman asked.

  “Yep, that’s me.”

  She handed me a package, which I signed for before shutting the door and locking it again. I recognized the return address as Crimson’s. Curiosity got the best of me and I started tearing at the packing tape before I reached the kitchen where the scissors were stored in the top “catch all” drawer.

  After getting the box open, I pulled away a layer of brown paper to reveal the contents. A card rested on top of a box of chocolates, which was placed on top of a small Styrofoam cooler. I opened the card and sagged against the counter, the simple message inside making my knees weak:

  Natalie,

  Although we’re apart, you’re always my Valentine and will forever possess my heart.

  I’ve sent you a reminder of home, where I wait for your return.

  Love,

  Dom

  I pulled the cooler out and struggled with the top until it finally surrendered with a squeak. Inside, wrapped in thick plastic freezer bags and surrounded by blocks of dry ice, were a dozen Philadelphia soft pretzels and cannoli from Termini Brothers. I laughed and immediately put a pretzel in the microwave. This was such a different present than the diamond tennis bracelet Dom gave me last year, but the pretzels, a core Philly food staple for me and the cannoli, which he liked to hand feed me, held more meaning. One of those times, the cream filling led to mind-blowing sex on the living room floor. My body warmed at the thought. Stop it, Nat, you’re getting ready for a date with Jase, remember? I chastised myself.

  In lieu of sexy thoughts about Dom, I stuffed my face with the pretzel instead, surprised that it still tasted fresh despite being a couple of days old and having been sent across the country. I left a pretzel out on the counter for Chelsea before putting the rest of the food in the freezer then grabbed the chocolates and card, hiding them in the bottom drawer of my dresser. Jason didn’t need to see Valentine’s Day presents from my ex kicking around.

  I was in the shower when Chelsea came home. She barged into the bathroom and held her half-eaten pretzel above the shower curtain. “Where did this come from?” she asked while still chewing.

  “Dom. He sent cannoli too.”

  “Wow. Does he know you’re with Jason now?” she asked.

  “Uh, no, but do you let your exes know when you enter a new relationship?”

  “No, but you should tell him. He’s definitely not someone you want to piss off,” she said.

  “Please, he would never hurt me. Now go away.” I flung water at her from the shower and she shrieked and quickly left after that, the door clicking closed behind her leaving me alone with my guilt.

  My reasons for not telling Dom about me and Jason were completely selfish. I liked hearing from Dominic and didn’t want that to stop. Being apart made me remember the good things about our relationship and the bad things, which all stemmed from Marco, were fading into the background. A stinging pain broke through my thoughts. Wincing, I looked down to see I had cut my leg while shaving. Shaking off memories of Dominic, I focused on the date ahead with Jason.

  Chelsea and I finished getting ready for our dates. We stood side by side in front of the bathroom mirror. Our routine was well established after so many years of living together; she would use the hair dryer or straightener and then we’d switch. We’d lean forward at the same time, to get up close to the mirror when we applied our mascara; it seemed almost choreographed.

  “Hey, tomorrow night let’s hang out. Just us so we can talk and chill,” Chelsea said as she closed up her mascara and tossed it back in her cosmetic case. She looked at me in the mirror.

  “I like that plan.”

  I sprayed Euphoria perfume on my wrists then passed the bottle to Chelsea and that was the end of our routine. We filed out of the bathroom, she turned left to go to her bedroom and I turned right to get my shoes that were by the futon.

  I was stepping into my heels when there was a light knock at the door. I peered through the peephole to see a distorted Jason and Derek standing outside, each holding a dozen red roses. After running my hands over the skirt of my dress to smooth out any wrinkles, I opened the door and let the boys in. Derek went back to Chelsea’s bedroom. Jason handed me the bouquet and I felt a blush creep up my neck.

  “What’s this, are you embarrassed?” he asked, cupping my cheek.

  “Kind of - does this seem weird to you? I mean we were friends and now...” I shrugged my shoulders and looked down at my roses, feeling even more awkward since I wasn’t saying things right.

  “Not weird at all. Besides we know each other in ways normal friends don’t. If you know what I mean.” he said with a smile, his teeth brilliant white against tan skin, before he leaned in and kissed me. “Now let’s go eat. I’m starving.” Jason plucked the roses out of my hand and walked into the kitchen. I couldn’t help but notice how his gray dress pants hugged his ass or how the black dress shirt fit his shoulders just right. I may have been conflicted, but not blind. After opening a few a cabinets, he found a vase underneath the sink and filled it with water. He stuck the bouquet in, ribbons and all and left it on the counter.

  He reached for my hand and we left the apartment. Jason held the door of his BMW open for me. Sand was on the passenger seat.

  “Oh, my bad,” he said with a grin and swept the sand onto the floor mat where half a beach worth was collecting. “Collin and I went surfing earlier,” he explained as I slid inside the car, which smelled faintly of the beach; a combination of sunscreen and salt. As I twisted to put on the seatbelt, I saw a crumpled up beach towel on the seat behind Jason.

  He drove us to a steakhouse in West Los Angeles, not too far from my apartment. From the outside, the restaurant didn’t look like much as it was sandwiched between a Pizza Hut and an automotive repair shop. The thin strip of parking lot was cracked and split like the surface of a gingersnap cookie. Once we stepped inside, it was like going from the ghetto to Beverly Hills. Hardwood floors shined, reflecting the soft lighting and looking clean enough to eat off of. Walls, the color of buttermilk, were cast in a glow from the accent lights. Mirrors with dark wood frames lined the walls above large booths covered in cream suede. All the tables were topped with white tablecloths and napkins. Tables in the middle of the dining room were accompanied by dark wood chairs with seats upholstered in the same suede as the booths. Everything was clean, yet rich and the ambience reminded me a lot of Butter, the restaurant in Philly that Dante managed.

  The restaurant was busy, but Jase had made reservations so we were immediately led to an intimate table for two. A candle flickered in a unique glass candle holder that doubled as a stand for the wine list, which Jason immediately grabbed and began to review with his eyebrows drawn together in concentration.

  “What do you like?” he asked.

  “I don’t know. We’re having steak so probably a red. You pick.” I knew Jason spent a lot of time in Napa with his dad and was far more knowledgeable on wines than I.

  Our server came up and when Jason requested a specific cabernet sauvignon, our server’s eyebrows raised. After checking our IDs and confirming we were in fact old enough to drink the juice, he rushed off and returned moments later with our bottle. He opened it with a flourish and had Jason go through the tasting process, before he finally filled our glasses. In the past, I probably would have gulped down my first glass, just to feel the soothing burn of my muscles relaxing, but this particular wine was too good for chugging and it’s rich flavor with hints of chocolate and blackberries forced me to slow down, savoring each sip.

  Dinner was simple, but delicious: grilled rib eye, garlic mashed potatoes and asparagus with hollandaise sauce. We chatted about work and Chelsea and Derek’s wedding. They had set a date for next June, but Chelsea was already in full-on preparation mode. She had taken my measurements already since she was designing and making all of the dresses. “Chelsea has bridezilla potential
,” I joked.

  “How do you feel about them moving in together?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Shit, Chelsea hasn’t told you?” Jason chewed on the edge of his thumbnail and looked across the table at me. “Well, uh, apparently they found a bungalow that’s a lease to own option.”

  “Oh.” I took a sip of wine. “She hasn’t said anything. When are they moving- do you know?”

  “The beginning of the month.”

  “Wait, March? As in fourteen days?” I sat back in my chair with such force the wood creaked. Why hadn’t Chelsea told me and was I going to have to move?

  “I’m sorry, I thought you knew,” Jason said, as if sensing the emotional turmoil whirling around inside my head. “If you’re worried about taking over the lease, you can move in with me, if you want?”

  I stared at him, waiting for him to break out in a shit-eating grin and tell me he was kidding. The longer I stayed silent, the more his face dropped and he looked away. Shit, he was serious.

  “Jase, we’ve been together a week. I can’t move in with you. That’s ridiculous.”

  “I don’t think so. We get along well enough, plus there’s the whole maid service benefit.”

  “Great perk, but my answer is still no. It’s way too soon to think about living together,” I said.

  “Fine, but keep it as an option.”

  Our server broke up the tension when he came around to clear our plates, leaving us with a complimentary tray of four chocolate dipped strawberries, which we quickly devoured. Jason didn’t mention our living arrangements again and I decided not to dwell on it and ruin our date.

  After dinner we drove to the Santa Monica Pier. Since it was Monday, the amusement park was closed, but there were still a lot of people out despite the cool evening, especially a lot of couples. We stopped alongside the railing, looking at the boats bobbing in the harbor. A wind coming off the ocean made me shiver, so Jason stood behind me and wrapped in his warmth. I rested my head against his chest and stared out at the night sky. It was so peaceful listening to the waves gently lapping at the pilings below and it seemed like time stood still; if not for the slow crawl of a ship on the horizon or the lights from a plane flying overhead, blinking against a backdrop of stars.