by Kara Hart
Cue the interruption.
“Mommy! Where is dinner? I'm hungry!” Jen yelled from the other room.
“God dammit,” I whispered, turning red. “Stop, I can't,” I said to him. Then I yelled to Jen. “It's almost ready, sweetheart!”
He looked up at me and sighed, zipping up his pants. “I’m sorry,” I whispered, adjusting all my clothes back to their normal position. I looked at my reflection in my phone and made sure my hair looked normal enough.
“Don’t be.” He smiled awkwardly, cutting up the pieces of lasagna. His strong, bull-like body expanded with each breath. There wasn’t any part of me now that didn’t want him to ravage me, but now was not the time. In fact, I was thinking now that maybe I should just shrug the whole thing off and forget about it. It wasn’t practical and it sure wasn’t safe. I didn’t know this guy, right? Did that even matter?
He whispered “You know, I just feel bad for you. If that little dance were to continue, I would have made you erupt at least three more times.” Ugh! A man who enjoyed eating pussy was rare, especially in this stupid town.
He served the pieces of lasagna onto plates and set them down on the table. “Jen! Time for dinner!” He called out, giving me another one of his winks.
She ran into the kitchen screaming and twirling with energy. “Lasagna!” she screamed.
“Alright, settle down, baby,” I whispered, trying to get a hold on myself. I was still a little flustered by it all.
“Do you like pasta, Jen?” Lucas asked my daughter, taking a big bite from his plate.
“Yes, but Mom never makes it for me.” She shot me a sassy glare. I threw my arms up in protest.
“Not true. I made you macaroni and cheese yesterday. Remember?” I joked. She rolled her eyes at me and took a bite. Red sauce and cheese instantly covered her cheeks.
“Well maybe I can make you pasta more often. How ‘bout that?” he asked her.
“I’m not so sure about that…” I whispered. Sure, it was nice having a man around the house every now and then, but as a regular thing? I wasn’t so sure I wanted that. With the whole Cade thing behind us, it might be better to stick to ourselves for a while. Then again, it was nice having him here for protection. I sure was conflicted.
“That would be great!” She shrieked with joy. Didn’t I have any say in this?
“Well, we’d have to get permission from your mother. You can’t make all the decisions around here,” he said, eyeing me carefully. Okay, so he had some manners too. All of this just made me more annoyed with him.
“We’re pretty busy this week, Jen.” I sighed, knowing this was a losing battle. Still, I had to stand my ground as much as I could.
Jen did something odd just then. She leaned forward against the table and hissed at me. “Mom! We need a man around this house,” she said. And then, looking smug as ever, she turned to Lucas and asked, “Are you going to be my mommy’s new boyfriend?”
My jaw dropped. What the fuck, Jen! My own daughter was manipulating me! Where the hell did she learn how to do that? I was speechless. I held my fork in my hand, staring at the lasagna. “Um.” I coughed lightly.
“I’ll be your mom’s friend. Boyfriends are gross. Ever since I found out that men have cooties, I promised myself I would never be a boyfriend.” He winked at Jen.
“Do you really have cooties? That’s not real.” She curiously looked at me for answers. Thank God for his little diversion.
“Oh, it’s real, alright. If your mom doesn’t want cooties, she better stay away from me.” I couldn’t help but think what cooties he could have given me tonight. I didn’t want it to end. I wanted so much more out of that. Now, I was left aching for him. His cock alone was something to brag about. Images flashed in my mind:
His lips on my navel. His lips kissing my pelvis. His tongue dragging across my skin, down to my pussy. His mouth wrapped around my lips. And I’m coming! Yes, I’m fucking coming! He’s suffocating on me, drowning in my sex. He’s inside me and he’s thrusting as hard as he can. His hands are gripping my hair, my ass, and every bit of flesh.
We’ve crossed a threshold. Now what am I going to do?
Lucas
“Give me that cunt,” I said. “I’m going to tear you apart.” I pull her close to me and begin to have my way. I’m pumping, giving her everything I’ve got. That is, until I look down and realize the bed is levitating and Dahlia’s face had shifted into my brother’s ex-wife.
“What the fuck?” I screamed, jerking violently.
And then I woke up, drenched in my own sweat and shaking. I looked down to find my cock pushing against the bed sheets. Dahlia. This is what that woman did to me. She made me want to explode. I adjusted my eyes to see my clock and the time: 8:00 A.M.
“Fuck,” I whispered. “It’s early.” I massaged my eyes and jumped out of bed, feeling a little strange. Blue balls, the silent killer.
I had to remember that I didn’t come to this city for her. I came to get information on Cade Buchwald. I was already closer than before, but I wasting time, all on account of that woman seducing me. I guess I played a small role in that too.
Outside my window I could hear tires rolling into my driveway. It was the all too familiar sound of rubber crunching against gravel. And then all of a sudden, it stopped. Who the fuck could that be? I thought to myself. No one comes up here. I quickly grabbed a pair of shorts and I loaded my pistol. In my business, it was best to always be heavily armed and dangerous.
I looked out the window and saw a small Volvo. Judging by the car, I didn’t have too much to worry about, but I wasn’t taking any chances. I ran to the front door and quietly stepped out into the dirt and gravel. The trees above me stood stoic, filled with the sound of chirping birds and rustling leaves. In front of me, stood the car and I let the gun in my hand be visible to the world.
The rumbling of the Swedish engine stopped and out came Carmelo, bearing wine as a sign of peace. “Can I come in?” he asked me.
I put the safety on my gun. “Do I need this thing? Or did you just come to talk?” I called out to the old man. I wasn’t taking any chances just yet. The guy may have been old, but he was tough as nails. Being a member of the Luciotti crime family taught me to respect my elders and their hidden strengths.
“I came to talk business,” he said. “No weapons. Just words.”
“Come in.” I gestured for him to come forward and walked inside the house.
I stood in the kitchen, fumbling for the coffee and some water to pour into the machine. “You take it black or with cream?” I asked him, finding the tin can of ready-made coffee. The shit was disgusting, but it did the trick.
“No coffee for me, thank you,” he said, setting the wine bottle on the kitchen table.
“Suit yourself. Have some of the wine if you want. It might make this meeting easier for you to swallow,” I said, cracking each knuckle in my hand. Truth was, this whole thing could go sour if he made one wrong move. I threw a wine bottle opener onto the table and pressed the button on the coffee machine.
“So,” I said, “why’d you come here?” I set two cups for the wine on the table. I wanted to be cordial. No blood. No brass knuckles. None of the bullshit. This guy knew a thing or two about being in the mafia. He was from Calabria, a rough Italian village. I couldn’t imagine the shit he had probably seen.
He unscrewed the cork until it popped off. Pouring a small amount of wine in each glass. “Salúd,” he said.
“Salúd.” I nodded. We both took a small sip and got to talking.
“I came here to settle the debt,” he simply said. “I know you know who I am.”
I nodded and took another sip. In the background was the noise of the burbling coffee machine, as well as birds outside. I still couldn’t help but think about Dahlia and that awful nightmare I had. Man, I need to get laid.
“Vincenzo the Butcher, right? Yeah. I know who you are. Everyone does.” I laughed lightly, hoping he wouldn’t take offense. It
was just that, in our world, the man was famous. He was a fucking icon of pain.
“Not everyone knows of me. No one here did. Now that’s all changed,” he said.
“Sorry for blowing up your spot.”
He took another sip of wine, finishing the contents of his glass. I poured him another. “It was bound to happen. I knew you'd find me sooner or later. I'm just glad it wasn't your father.”
I laughed at the thought of that. Two old school gangsters, fighting tooth and nail. Someone was bound to break a hip in that situation. “Or my brother. He's worse than any of ‘em.”
“So I've heard. I used to be pretty bad myself, you know.” The coffee machine stopped making noise and the smooth aroma of dirt coffee filled the room. I went to grab a cup.
“They didn't call you the Butcher for nothing, right?” I poured my coffee and sighed. “Coffee and wine might not be the best morning combo. Mind if I come in to the café later?”
“You're not going to kill me, are you?” He laughed, taking another sip of red wine. I shook my head “no” which seemed to offer him some relief. “Sure. Do what you want. You can have the coffee on the house for all I care.”
I shook my head at the thought of that. I had a lot of respect for the guy, despite the circumstances. In his heyday, he was one badass motherfucker. Frankly, he deserved all the respect in the world. Even if I was going to kill the guy.
“I'd like to pay. I like supporting small businesses,” I said.
“Good. I’ll admit, it’s a new passion of mine. But I enjoy it. The old life,” he sighed, “all of that is behind me now. I've asked for forgiveness. I've done my penance. I just hope that God can forgive me.” He finished the glass. I offered to pour him more, but he waved his hands at me, letting me know he was okay where he was.
“You killed my uncle Tessio. You really thought you could get away with that? You're one city away. One city,” I said, pounding my fist on the table. Things were starting to take a darker, more serious tone now.
“Who was I to know that he was your uncle? I went to Monroe because nobody comes to Monroe. Especially no one from Detroit. But it's like I said, I knew you'd find me eventually,” he said.
“He was a made man. You have to respect that. I don't care who you are. You could be Al Capone for all I care, you respect his sacrifice to the life of crime.”
“He aimed a gun at me. The son of a bitch tried to hold me and my men up,” he argued.
“Bullshit.”
“It's true. Ask any one of my men. The guy wanted our shipments. He was drunk on Jameson. What was I supposed to do?”
Jameson? Well, the old man got his facts straight. My uncle was glued to the bottle. “I don't know. Hold a sit down. I'm not a fucking boss. I'm the guy that comes to clean up messy situations. You just ran away and expected us not to retaliate. You've got some balls on you.”
“What do you want with Dahlia?” he asked suddenly.
“Don't change the fucking subject. This isn't about her. It's about you and me. I used her to get to you, old man.”
“She's a good kid. Don't hurt her on account of me,” he pleaded.
“I wouldn't dream of it,” I said. I felt bad for her. Without “Carmelo,” she would be out of a job. How was I supposed to kill the man now? Dahlia was wrapped up in his shit and that wasn't fair to her.
“So how should we settle the score?” he asked.
“They want you dead,” I said. “But I'm a man of my word. I won't kill you. Yet.”
“What's the exchange? Money?”
“Money is good, but it’s not everything. We’ll need more than that. I need information. We can talk about money later. You still in contact with your men?” I asked him.
I took one more sip of wine, straight out of the bottle, and then put it away. Feeling a little drunk, I loosened up a little. There wasn't any need to get extreme if he was going to cooperate. Back in the day, the guy’s brains would be splattered against my windows. Lately, however, I had turned into a softie. I was willing to hear him out.
“A few of them, yeah. They owe me a great deal. They can help you if you keep me alive. That goes for after you find out what you need to find out too. Got it?”
I nodded. “Sure thing. You have my word. You'll have a life. I won't even tell my guys where you are if you do me this solid,” I said, knowing that would sweeten the deal for him.
“Alright, so what do you need to know?”
I slipped him the same picture I gave André back in Toledo. “Cade. You know him?”
“Never heard of the guy.” He scratched his head.
“He took a lot of money from us. He left a lot of people high and dry. Abused his girlfriend, all in front of their child. Anyway, he owes a steep debt. It's time I get what I came to collect.”
“Got a last name?” he asked me.
“Buchwald,” I said. “Sometimes goes by Whiteman. Last seen in Detroit.”
“Two last names? He didn't get creative with it, did he?” He laughed. “I'll contact my guys. I should have something for you in a few days, a week tops.” He got out of his seat and extended out his hand.
“Sounds good.” He shook my hand and headed back out to his Volvo. “Nice car,” I said.
“It runs.” He shrugged and started the engine.
* * *
We were close to figuring this thing out. Only problem was, I didn’t want the job to end. Not yet, at least. I looked up at the pretty woman leaning over the table and said “Not you, honey. Her.”
Today was a nice day. The sun was shining and the air was breezy. It was the kind of day that begged you to rest. “Come on,” it beckoned. “Take a day off.” Fine. I will.
The woman tapped her pen against the table. “Sorry, hun. I was specifically told to help you today.”
“Who are you anyway? I’ve never seen you before,” I said, looking around at the rest of the café. It was surprisingly packed. What the hell is going on? I wondered. It was as if suddenly the town of Monroe was considered a popular destination.
“Well I’ve seen you. Everyone has,” she said, tapping her pen harder against the wood. She pressed her tongue against her cheek when she talked, which annoyed the hell out of me. I tried to shoo her away.
Everyone in the café seemed to be looking at me. Nobody ever looked at me before. Why the attention now? This wasn’t good for business. “Look, tell Dahlia I need to talk to her. That alright with you, honey?”
“We’re very busy today, sir. Can you please just tell me wha—” I put my hand up in front of her face. Probably a rude gesture, but I didn’t really give a damn. It’s not like I actually came to this place for the quiche. Hell no. I came for the pussy.
“Here. Take it.” I grabbed a twenty-dollar bill and gestured for her to get away from my table. Of course she grabbed the paper like it was candy. “Just get me Dahlia, dammit,” I muttered, placing my fingers against my temple. I had a headache that wasn’t going away today.
The woman walked up to Dahlia, who was pulling a shot from the machine, and whispered into her ear. I watched as she rolled her eyes, poured the shot into the glass, and yelled “Espresso!” Then she came my way.
“Yeah?”
“What the hell is your problem, missy?” I asked her, almost smiling at her irrational behavior.
“Can you just order something and let me work?” she spat out, eyes on fire. Her cheeks were a pale-rosy hue and she tapped her heel loudly.
“Yeah, I’ll take whatever you get me,” I said. “What’s wrong? I thought we had a good time the other night.”
She set her notepad down and grumbled loudly. “Let’s just not talk about that ever again, okay? Look, I’m not mad at you or anything. I just don’t think it’s good to associate with a drug dealer considering my past.”
I burst out laughing, slamming my palm on the table. “A drug dealer?” I bellowed.
“Keep it down!” she hissed. “This is a restaurant. The locals already think
you’re an odd character.”
“What’s wrong with them anyway? Why do they keep looking at me?” I asked her.
“Don’t you have a calendar? It’s the 4th of July weekend. This place is always packed for the parade and fireworks. You sort of stick out, you know.”
I looked down at my outfit. All black, heavy jacket, and the gauze over the hand that beat André’s face in. Yeah, I guess I stood out. “Alright. I hear you.”
“Anyway, that’s not the point. The other night was fun. Until I woke up with this taped to my door. How do you know him?” she asked me, on the verge of tears. I had no idea what she was even talking about.
She threw a note onto the table. On it was scratched black pen, complete with rapid and frightening lettering. It read:
Dahlia. Love of my life. Mother of my child. I know I’ve done you wrong. There’s no way to repair our past and I don’t aim to. I’m a sinner and a thief. I can get violent too, I suppose. But all that has changed now. I’m a new man. I’m writing you to tell you that you can’t run forever. The world is far too small. And my daughter IS my daughter. She’s daddy’s little girl. Remember? A daughter needs her father.
P.S. Lucas is not who you think he is. He’s evil, Dahlia. He’s a dealer, a killer, and he’ll only bring you darkness.
With all my love, Cade.
What the fuck? Cade. There it was. In plain sight. The man I needed to find. And the whole story started to connect right in front of my eyes. Cade was her ex. All of that baggage related back to him. Jen. His daughter. And of course, I was tied all up in it. This has got to be a joke or a dream, or a nightmare. But every time I tried to pinch myself, I wouldn’t wake up. No, this was reality alright. And I was stuck between a rock and a hard place. Truth be told, I was fucked.
Dahlia
It was more than anger. It was more than fear. It felt like someone poured a bucket of sand in my mouth as the ex-love of my life held my mouth open and pinched my nose shut. I wasn’t prepared for this. Nobody told me being a single mother would be this difficult.