Fantasy Island

by Mickey Miller

  Vince swirled his drink. The aroma of finely-aged liquor filled the air between us. “My Dad died, so I’ve taken over as head of operations.”

  I hadn’t been around when the elder LaRosa passed. I offered him a sympathetic look. “I heard.”

  “Oh, have you?” he quirked one dark eyebrow at me. “You’ve been keeping tabs on me. Interesting.”

  My heart raced. Vince had been a high school crush, sure. He was a couple of years older than me. But right about now I was trying to figure out exactly what he might want with a pasty Irish redhead. As a bartender, I could pick up on a flirtatious vibe when it was there. The way his eyes didn’t stop looking at mine while he sipped his whiskey led me to think he was checking me out. Though he hadn’t done the full body check-out. Yet. Not that I expected him to. My body was what one might call athletic. Not curvy or even sexy. The short-sleeved plaid shirt I wore didn’t help matters either.

  Did I want him to think I was sexy? I shifted in place, flustered at my train of thought. He’d thought I’d been when we were teenagers, though over the years I wondered if it wasn’t just the danger of hooking up with an Irish girl that revved his engine.

  When I didn’t say anything, he kept the conversation going. “When did you get back from college?”

  I shook myself out of the stupor his sharp brown eyes had put me in. What had happened to my neutral bartender smile? I plastered it on. No way, no how was I going to let him know he was getting to me. Luckily, I had an out as a hand flung in the air. “I finished grad school a couple of weeks ago. Good to see you, Vince, but someone’s waving to me from the other end of the bar.”

  “Alright.” When he spoke, his voice was even without a hint of neediness. I could stay or I could go and it wouldn’t affect his energy in the slightest, it seemed. Yet ironically, that lack of neediness left me unable to move. I wanted him to want me to stay. How stupid was that? Was it because I wanted to know the real reason he darkened my door? I knew he wasn’t here to play a stupid game of poker.

  “I’m going to ask you again, Vince. Why are you here?” I leaned my elbows on the bar and propped up my chin, ignoring the other patron. I even batted my lashes, delving deep into my favorite flirty girl pose. I was nearly touching him, but not daring to put my skin against his in the presence of my family.

  He glanced to my left and my right, no doubt noticing half of the bar staring him down. Pops was gnawing on his cigar like a haunch of meat.

  Vince leaned in closer, sharing my breath with his murmur. What he said was only for me. “Kel, you ever get that feeling you have unfinished business?”

  The butterflies that I’d tried to force out of my body flew right back into my chest. I lied through my teeth. I wasn’t ready, maybe would never be ready to share my adult secrets with Vince fucking LaRosa. He’d known me better than anyone as kids, but I couldn’t let him in again. “No, not really. Why?”

  His smile turned serious. Gone was the smooth playboy who’d walked into the bar. And in his place was a man who reeked of dangerous intensity. In one swift motion, he swallowed the remaining liquid and slammed the glass on the bar. “Because I do. And that’s why I had to come here. I had to see if a dream—if something I thought about was still worth pursuing.”

  I jerked my elbows off the bar and withdrew fast. Why did I have the feeling I was this dream he had? I hiked my chin. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  Before we could continue our conversation, Tommy stepped in. “Alright, man, I think it’s time you move it downstairs and get that round of poker over with. We’ve been more than cordial with you.”

  He reached into his suit coat and took out a wad of bills. Pulling four from his bundle, he laid them on the bar counter.

  “I have to run,” he smiled, his brown eyes sparkling still. “But I do hope we can meet again soon.”

  I said nothing. Encouraging him was a bad idea. I moved to take another customer’s order, ignoring Vince’s progression through the bar.

  Tommy escorted Vince into the basement where the guys were just about to ramp up the night’s poker game. A lot of money would change hands, most of it in the house’s favor. It would be a long night of keeping the books, both the regular ones and the illegal ones.

  The customer who’d pulled me away from Vince ordered a Guinness. As I held down the tap, I watched the light brown liquid pour out, the color reminiscent of Vince LaRosa’s eyes before they settled.

  2

  Chapter 2

  I was playing with fire. But damn, it would it be worth it to get burnt.

  My thoughts were filled with memories of a younger Kelly MacNamara, overlapping with the current version, as Tommy led me down a pair of refurbished wooden stairs, and deep into the Prohibition-era tunnels beneath the pub. She hadn’t changed much. She was still the lean-hipped vixen who had almost run away with my heart when we’d been younger. Back when I was stupid and naive and thought that familial ties wouldn’t matter. I’d been her first kiss, and she had been my first taste of puppy love. In her I saw the possibility of living outside of my family’s influence. Until Dad changed all of that and made me a killer.

  I was wiser now, and followed the Outfit’s beliefs on how to ‘prune’ dead weight. Though Sal probably wouldn’t agree with me on that, while I might have cut my teeth on being a hitman, and now ruled the Mafia with an iron fist, in his eyes I probably wouldn’t ever be as wise as my old man.

  My right-hand man radiated unease at my side. I knew what Sal thought, that I was strolling into my death without a care. I wasn’t that gullible. I knew there was some danger popping up in the stretch of brick and mortar controlled by the leprechauns, but the MacNamaras were a smart bunch. They wouldn’t risk all-out war, a redo of the Valentine Day’s Massacre, over something as small as me paying Kelly a visit. No matter how much they hated the notion, she and I had been friends a long time. I’d waited awhile to pop in, but I couldn’t wait any longer. Knowing Kel was back in the city, hopefully for good, and not having seen her in years had been an itch I needed to scratch. Now that I’d paid her a visit, I could move on.

  Tommy might not have gotten that memo, though. He stalked in front of me with aggression oozing off him like an aura. His red hair was buzzed down into a faux-hawk, exposing his scalp and the tattoo on his nape. With the stiff way he held his shoulders, the occasional flex of his thick biceps beneath the short-sleeved T-shirt he wore, and the twitching of his fists at his side, it was safe to assume he wanted to slug me.

  I likely deserved it. I was deep behind enemy lines, the head of the Chicago Outfit cozying up in a bar known to be part of the Irish Mob, with only one bodyguard.

  “Do you have a death wish?” Sal muttered beside me. It wasn’t the location that had him wound up. He’d been in stickier situations than this with Dad. No. His problem was with how I’d looked at old man MacNamara’s daughter. He hadn’t been on Dad’s payroll back when Kel and I were friends—well, more than friends.

  I shook my head.

  “You know what I want,” I said.

  It wasn’t death I wanted, but life. One with a certain auburn-haired sass pot at my side. It was a pipe dream I hadn’t given voice to. I suppose every man has an obsession, a thing he holds onto during dark times. In a way, it seemed silly to pursue her. The fact was a man like me could have virtually any woman I wanted…well, except for one.

  One such as Kelly.

  Even though I’d nurtured the desire since high school, there was no way in hell I could have Kelly MacNamara in my bed. But I had to welcome her back to the Windy City. We’d been friends, after all. Before reality and family expectation tied a noose around my neck and sent her off to Indiana for college.

  Tommy stopped in front of a dented steel door with a slide-out panel. By the tarnish and dings on it, I figured it was original to the building. Harkening back to when visits by the police were a nightly occurrence, and it took more than a smile and a few bucks to get past the door.
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  Tommy banged twice, waited for a second, and then knocked once more. The panel slid open and a pair of narrowed eyes roved over Tommy and then sized up Sal and me. The eyes widened with surprise when they registered just who was coming in for a game. I raised an eyebrow, daring him to say something untoward. I might not be able to do anything now, but I always remembered a face and a slight.

  “Are you sure you want these two in here, Tommy?” the doorman whispered. As if I couldn’t hear his voice echoing off the stone.

  Tommy scowled at me over his shoulder. He’d promised Kelly he’d let me in, and everyone knew the MacNamara brothers would do anything for their sister. I was an old friend. One they might not like, especially now that I was a made man. But that didn’t change the truth.

  He jerked his head back around. “Just one game. Let ‘em in.”

  The guy nodded once and slammed the panel shut. The game room was locked up like Fort Knox because it sounded as if a dozen bolt locks were slammed open all at once. Then the door swung wide, and I was ushered into the speakeasy. Back in the day, this had been where moonshine and liquor had been kept and served. Now, it was one of many illegal gambling dens connected to the Irish Mob.

  My presence barely stirred the crowd. The only one giving me the side-eye was a dealer handling a portable roulette wheel. His hand slipped underneath, probably fingering a gun, as he watched the three of us move inside. Sal had my back, even if the tension radiating off of him made me jumpy.

  “Make it quick, LaRosa. Got it?” Tommy said as he walked directly through the heart of the parlor, and stopped at one of two poker tables.

  I gave the whole of the setup a quick sweep. I wouldn’t admit it out loud, but it was kind of impressive. The room was larger than I’d anticipated. From the roulette wheel to a miniature craps table, blackjack, and of course poker were all available. I might not handle the day-to-day activities of my own racket, but the MacNamara’s parlor could easily rival Santino’s—though I’d never mention that to Santino himself.

  “Shouldn’t take too long,” I smirked. I couldn’t resist shooting Tommy a snide glance just for the hell of it. But I’d already accomplished what I wanted. Seeing Kelly had been the whole reason for my visit. Pulling my money clip out, I thumbed off a grand and exchanged it for poker chips.

  How did Kelly feel about being the heir apparent to all of this? It wasn’t a secret that Pops was grooming her to take over. His boys were the muscle, Kelly was the brain.

  It was a different life than the one she’d wanted when we were younger. Back then she’d been dizzy with the joy of theater. She devoured anything Shakespeare and worshiped at the altar of Andrew Lloyd Webber. How had that played out for her? Did she get a chance to explore her acting legs, or had her Pops crushed that dream beneath his heel?

  I slid into a vacant seat and waited to be dealt in.

  I hadn’t known what to expect upon seeing Kelly again. We might have dreamed of a life beyond the boundary of Irish and Italian; mafia and Mob. But it hadn’t worked out for me. Dad had been elevated after some higher-up had keeled over. He’d climbed the ranks from soldier to Boss. He’d overseen the whole family in Chicago. Until his death. Now, I was the Boss. Keeping the money flowing by any means necessary. Even if that meant a whole lot of murder and blood on my hands. And there was a lot. I’d learned how to garrote a man before I’d learned to drive. I knew all the locations of the nearest pig farms, and the best way to dispose of a body. The secret was in chunks. My best friend had been a hacksaw I’d kept hidden in the trunk of my car beneath the spare tire.

  Sometimes I missed that life. Not the killing, but the freedom. I’d been able to do what I wanted, working from the shadows, instead of where I was now as the head of the snake with a bullseye on my forehead.

  The shootout at the sausage factory yesterday was a sign that things were boiling over again. It was always a turf war, especially when drugs and guns were involved. Half of the South Loop was made up of diehard Irish, the other territorial Italians. And sometimes, that clash couldn’t be helped. But damn if I wasn’t fucking tired of it.

  At this rate, I’d be taking the same route as Dad—dead and gone in less than ten years or less. Probably less.

  I clicked the plastic chips together, glancing over at my fellow poker players. At one end sat a ginger-bearded scarecrow of a man fidgeting with his cards. On the other side was a tired blonde who’d tapped out. I knew the look on her drawn face. Desperation and addiction. Never an attractive look. Beside her was a card shark. I knew the look just based on the sly smile sketched on his lips and his arrogant smirk. I didn’t give a fuck if I lost the grand, but it irked me that he was fleecing obviously destitute players.

  Not my problem, though. This wasn’t my game or my parlor. Not like I came here for the poker, anyhow. I set my cards face down on the table.

  The dealer shuffled the cards. “Ante up.”

  I flicked a few chips into the pot while the dealer dealt the cards.

  “Do you want a drink?” Sal asked, leaning over me.

  I shook my head. “We won’t be here long.” I arched a look at Tommy. He was prowling around the games, acting as if he was checking out how things were running. But his eyes never left me.

  I’d make it quick, just in case Tommy got an itchy trigger finger.

  The game went fast. Two of the three folded after one ante. And though I’d won, taking most of the money from the shark on the end, the win wasn’t satisfying. I liked a challenge, and this wasn’t it.

  Scooping up the chips, I cashed out. Before I even counted my earnings, Tommy was at my elbow like the fucking Flash. “Now it’s time for you to leave, LaRosa.”

  “That was the deal,” I said smoothly. “See? One game and I’m cashing out.”

  Tommy narrowed his eyes at me, and then led me out the back. I’d wanted to get another look at Kelly, but It had to wait. If I went back upstairs and into the pub, I’d be facing down a double barrel.

  Tommy all but shoved Sal and I out the exit door, and into a grimy alley in between Kelly’s Tavern and Ricci’s Pizza next door. A short stairwell led back up to the street.

  “Don’t think of coming back. The only reason I let you in was for Kelly. You welcomed her back. Now stay away.” Damn, I hadn’t been as sneaky as I thought. The way Tommy eyeballed me, he knew the real reason I’d come to the tavern, and it hadn’t been for a drink and a game of poker. Tommy punctuated his snarl with a clang as he slammed the door shut. The click of the bolt being thrown from the inside was just an exclamation.

  I grinned at the closed door. Things hadn’t changed. Tommy used to corner me in the locker room after school, during those idyllic years when Kel and I were inseparable. Best friends defying the threats of violence which teemed on each side of the invisible line between Irish and Italian. He’d pushed and shoved me, and told me to stay the fuck away from his sister.

  I’d never listened then, and I sure as shit wasn’t going to listen now.

  Sal ran a scarred hand through his military-short hair. “Did you get it out of your system, Boss?”

  Would I ever get Kelly out from underneath my skin? How many years had it been since I’d last seen her? Far too many, and still I remembered every detail of her. From the way her nose wrinkled when she laughed, to how her body fit against mine when I held her close. That last memory was the one that haunted me.

  I closed my eyes. The years might have passed far too quickly, but the feel of Kel’s slim body swaying against mine never quit. We’d almost gotten together, a week before Dad pulled up our South Loop roots and moved my family to a new neighborhood. We’d stolen a moment beneath the bleachers after a baseball game. She’d fit me perfectly, more so than any woman since.

  I scratched at the scruff on my chin and turned to look at Sal. “You don’t want to know the answer to that.”

  Sal grunted. “The fuck is wrong with you,” he muttered, low enough that I couldn’t reprimand him for the comm
ent. He turned and walked toward the sidewalk.

  I paused at the mouth of the alley, glancing at the gold lettering decorating the front of the tavern window; the gilt spelling out my favorite five-lettered name—Kelly. “Go grab Luca and wait for me in the car.”

  Sal froze and eyeballed me over his shoulder. “Fuck, why don’t I like the sound of that?”

  “Because you hate that I don’t listen like my dad did.” Sal was like an uncle to me, a mentor. He’d been dad’s right-hand man. Now, he was mine. In his late-forties, he kept in great shape and knew twelve ways to kill a man without a weapon.

  “Your dad would have my balls for letting you go about as you do,” Sal said. But he was a good soldier. He did what he was told, even if he didn’t like it.

  Sal disappeared down the street. Luca stood outside the tavern doors, looking like a renegade bouncer in search of a nightclub. Sal beckoned Luca, and the two of them headed toward the Cadillac Escalade parked down the block. If Kel was watching she would see Sal and Luca walk down the street, alone.

  I leaned against the brick face of the pub and pulled out a thin pack of little Winchesters. Tapping one free, I lit the cigar and waited. It didn’t take long before my trap was sprung. The front door of the tavern swished open with a gust of conversation and music. Like I had hoped, the nosy little minx had to come see if I was still outside.

  Kelly stepped outside, casting a quick glance up and down the street. The early summer breeze caught the edges of her bangs, blowing the long tendrils against her cheeks.

  I blew a curl of smoke her way.

  She pivoted toward me, both hands planted on her jean-clad hips. “Why haven’t you left?”

  “Because I’m not finished talking to you.” I flashed her a benign smile.