by L. A. Fiore
“I don’t know her, she’s a stranger, so yeah I’m fine.”
“Sorry you had to learn about it that way.”
“It’s okay. You going to help her?”
“I’ll ask around, not much more I can do.”
“You’re a good man, Dad.”
He didn’t reply except to press a kiss on my forehead.
Dad was out and Aunt Dee was over. He’d been doing that a lot lately, leaving after I’d gone to bed. I suspected he had a girlfriend. I’d ask him but it’d make him uncomfortable especially since he was on his no sex ever for Mia kick, so it wouldn’t do for me knowing he was having sex. I wasn’t interested in sex, well I was but not with just anyone and the one I wanted didn’t want me. I didn’t actually mind that Dad kept me in the dark about his girlfriends. I preferred it, because I’d likely feel about them the same way he felt about the boys I dated. No one would be good enough for him, especially not after learning more about my mom.
Aunt Dee was unusually quiet tonight, her normally chipper mood solemn.
“Are you okay, Aunt Dee?”
“I’m sorry, I’m a bit distracted.”
“Everything okay?”
“Yeah, it’s just that the hardware store where I work is closing.”
That was news since the place was a staple in the neighborhood, been the same family for generations who ran it. “That’s a surprise.”
“Yeah, a chain hardware store opened up down the street and they can’t compete. Tony doesn’t want to close, but he doesn’t have a choice. Keeping open is starting to cut into his savings.”
“That stinks.”
“It does, but it seems to be the trend in the neighborhood lately. The competition is squeezing the older, family-run, shops out. I get it, progress and all, but it’s unfortunate that the progress has to be on the backs of the small business owners because it’s the history of the area that makes us special.”
Nervousness spread through me because Dad ran a small business. “Do you think Dad’s at risk?”
What she said didn’t jive with the look of her. “Oh no, I’m sure Mace will be fine.”
I really hoped that was true, but there was a part of me that wasn't so sure.
“Cole you should paint that Trans Am pink. I think the owner would like that a lot.”
His lips twitched and he shook his head, something I had learned over the years meant he thought I was ridiculous. I liked to believe he thought I was adorable and ridiculous, but getting a reaction from him at all was a treat.
“You could stencil a unicorn on the front since I know you can draw.”
His eyes found me, those beautiful blue eyes. I referred to his sketch of me when I was younger, a sketch I still had.
“No.”
“You know as often as I hear you talk, it still amazes me how you can get any work done when you jabber on all day.”
“Jabber?”
“Yeah, like Jabberjaw.”
“What the hell is a Jabberjaw?”
“An old guy like you doesn’t know Jabberjaw? Wow, there aren’t words.” Of course I only knew of the old cartoon, the predecessor of SpongeBob Squarepants, because of reruns on Boomerang, but I didn’t share that with Cole.
“Old man?”
Sure he was five years older than me, but he wasn’t an old man; he was perfect. Every inch of him was perfect and the fact that I still crushed on him was probably wrong, but it didn’t stop me from dreaming that he’d wrap those arms around me and kiss me senseless. My voice sounded a bit strangled and I prayed that Cole didn’t notice. “Yeah, twenty-two. I’m surprised you don’t need a walker to get around.”
His focus was completely on me; the wrench in his hand forgotten. He had the most incredibly intense stare and when that stare was directed at me, I hadn’t a clue what he was thinking, but I felt that stare in every nerve in my body. What was I doing? I had to stop this. Cole was off limits; I kept reminding myself of that, but I could honestly say it was getting harder and harder convincing myself of that. Luckily I was pulled from my inappropriate crushing at the sight of my dad leaving his office. One look at him and thoughts of Cole fled because Dad’s face was pinched with temper and the man with him didn’t appear any happier.
“Not now, not later. I’m not interested.”
“You’re passing up a fortune.”
“Carter, not interested.”
“Well, if you change your mind you let me know.”
“Not going to happen, but if I do you’ll be the first.”
“Fair enough.”
I studied the man, his face looking oddly familiar. What did he want? Clearly he was persistent since Dad wouldn’t have lost his cool so quickly. Dad joined us, the man stopped with him. His intentions were clear; he was waiting for an introduction.
Dad was hesitant but reluctantly said, “Carter Stein, my daughter Mia and Cole Campbell.”
Carter barely glanced at Cole, his focus zeroing in on me. He was attractive and well dressed, but I had the sense the polish on the surface didn’t run very deep. He reached for my hand; both my dad and Cole tensed in response, before he gently squeezed it. “Very nice to meet you.”
Creepy, particularly since my dad was standing right there. Dad moved, stepping in front of me forcing Carter to release my hand.
“I didn’t realize your daughter was a young woman now. Tell me, Mia, how old are you?”
Maybe I was misreading the man, his intentions could just be neighborly, but to me he sounded like a dirty old man. His eyes weren’t so much watching me as they were dissecting me. My discomfort didn’t go unnoticed because Cole moved, placing himself next to Dad, effectively blocking me completely from Carter.
“Your car is here.” Cole said but there was an edge to his voice, one I’d never heard before.
Something dark flashed in Carter’s eyes proving that the polish really was just on the surface before he smiled. “Yes. I do have much to do.” His eyes found mine. “It was very nice to meet you, Mia.”
Since I had been taught not to lie, I didn’t return the comment. He didn’t wait for one as he strolled from Dad’s garage like a man without a care in the world.
“What a creep.” I said as soon as his car pulled from the curb.
Cole’s attention turned to Dad. “All good?” Cole asked.
“Yeah.”
It was the tone of my dad’s voice that turned my attention to him. “You don’t sound like all is good.”
“It’s fine.” He studied me for a minute. “You’re smart to be wary of him. Men like that, ones who feel entitled, don’t play by the same rules as the rest of us. You walk the other way if you ever see him. Got it?”
“Yeah, but you didn’t need to tell me that. He gave off the vibe of being a snake oil salesman. What is snake oil anyway?”
My dad laughed, which eased my tension a bit. “I haven’t a clue. So what’s going on over here?”
Dad wanted the subject changed so I changed it, but I could tell he was still tense and oddly, so was Cole. “Cole was just saying how he’d like to paint this car pink.”
My dad’s laugh in response echoed around the garage.
After dad returned to his office, I followed Cole outside to the picnic table.
“Cole, what was that all about?”
“You should ask your dad.”
“Is everything okay, with the garage I mean?”
“Yeah, but you’ve seen the neighborhood, it’s changing. That guy, I’m guessing is a part of that change.”
“Why would he want Dad’s garage?”
“Location, but also the size. Could put something pretty big here in its place.”
I recoiled at that statement. “Dad won’t sell.”
“No, but you can’t blame the man for asking.”
My first reaction to that was I damn well could, but I guess there really wasn’t any harm in him asking. “I guess not.”
Cole’s stare was intense whe
n he added, “Your dad won’t do anything he doesn’t want to.”
And even as I exhaled in relief at those words, a seed of doubt lodged in my gut.
Mace paced my living room; he was pissed and had every reason to be. I’d been listening to the rumblings in the neighborhood, the pressure being applied to businesses and the not so ethical tactics being used to encourage those businesses to seek early retirement. Stein walking right into Mace’s office and applying a bit of that pressure himself was pretty ballsy. The tidbit that had Mace pacing though was Stein had recently made a new acquaintance, my former employer Donny Alfonsi. I had to give it to Donny; he was smarter than I had pegged him for. He hadn’t been kidding when he talked of downsizing during my exit interview. He’d not only downsized, he went practically underground. Resurfacing now, after maintaining a low profile, and making a connection like Carter Stein, it was smart. Most people didn’t know him, of his deeds certainly, but very few could finger the man responsible for those deeds. If anyone had mastered the art of being a ghost, it was Donny. A political ally, a bodyguard, however Donny chose to paint himself, no one would be the wiser about his nefarious activities of the past, only those of us who knew the man. And that was what had me pacing. My association with Donny put Mace and Mia in danger and a man looking to better his situation in life, as Donny was doing, wouldn’t want the constant threat of being made. He’d strike at me, and knowing his MO, he’d do it through them. Wasn’t going to give him the opportunity, but to say it wasn’t keeping me up at night would be a lie.
Mace stopped his pacing and turned to me. “You’re sure that Donny’s on Stein’s payroll?”
“Is or very soon will be.”
“We’ll need to keep our ears to the ground on that. I have something Stein wants and we know the kind of man Donny is.”
“Not to mention, he’s moving up in the world; he’s probably not digging the idea of a few words from me in the right ear and he’ll be back in the sewer.”
“You’ve never given him any reason to believe you’d rat him out.”
“I know, but Donny’s mind doesn’t work like most people’s. I’m not comfortable making assumptions when it comes to him.”
“We’re going to have to keep Mia close. You saw the way that bastard was looking at her.”
Oh, I saw it. Took a will I didn’t even know I had to keep from wringing the life out of the fucker. “She’s going off to college soon.”
“Yeah and I’ve an idea on that. We’ll discuss it later, but now I need to pick your brain about where a fairly high paid prostitute would do her business.”
“Is there something you want to tell me?”
Mace caught the humor in my question, a grin tugging at his mouth. “Mia’s mom is a prostitute, so is her roommate who just happens to be missing. I told Cynthia I’d look into it.”
Mia’s mom was a whore. That was news. “Does Mia know about her mom?”
“Yeah, found out when Cynthia paid me a call at home.”
“How’d she take it?”
“You know Mia, very little gets to her.”
I got to her and even if it was wrong, I fucking loved that she was as unsettled by me as I was of her. Didn’t want Mace figuring out that I was harboring feelings for his daughter that were anything but familial, so I focused on his question.
“Yeah, there are a few places. It’ll be easier to take you, besides if the roommate got herself into trouble, you’ll want someone watching your back.”
“Thanks, Cole.”
Sitting on the bench in the park, I watched as Dad coached the little league team. He’d been coaching it for years, had been my coach when I played. Hitting the balls I did well, running the bases, not so much. Like when I was younger, I sat eating custard but not fast enough so it melted down my hand, making my fingers sticky.
A man worked with dad, a co-captain it seemed, a new development. He looked like he just stepped off a soccer field with a build of a sports player: long, lean muscles. He had light brown hair, hazel eyes and an easy-going smile.
“Hey.”
My body tingled as I turned to see as Cole settled on the bench next to me. “Hi.”
He reached for my hand, pulling my cone to his mouth and took a huge bite of custard. My belly flip-flopped, my eyes glued to his lips that were covered in custard. I wanted to lick the custard off those lips.
“Good.”
It’s so much better than good.
“Who’s that?”
Who’s what? What was he saying? Stop talking and just let me lick you.
“Mia?”
Lifting my focus from his lips, to his humor-filled eyes, I attempted to focus on the conversation. “What?” I did say attempted to focus.
“Who’s the guy?”
“Ah, co-captain I’m guessing.”
“How’s the team look?”
He wanted to talk about the team? Let’s talk about my custard and how I’d like to drip it on his naked body and then lick it off, every single drop. I waited too long to answer him again since he now studied me like I had just popped up from a fairy ring. Pulling my lustful thoughts back, I said, “Good hitters, some good fielders and that one kid can run the bases like Superman.”
My delay in answering his question was understandable, raging hormones and all, but now that I no longer imagined Cole as the spoon for my ice cream, curiosity replaced lust. Why was he here? He never came out to the practices. In fact, I didn’t even know he knew Dad coached. “What are you doing here?”
“Mace mentioned it the other day, thought I’d check it out.”
Seemed strange, especially considering how he tended to stay at a distance with anything not related to work. A part of me wanted to press that point since I was an inquiring mind, but Cole sat next to me, in the park, sharing my ice cream, our legs nearly touching. I wasn’t that interested in his sudden interest in little league baseball.
We sat in comfortable silence and after about a half an hour the practice came to an end. Dad and his friend walked over to us.
“Hey, Mia. Cole. This is Bruce. He works for the Philadelphia Police Department, who’s co-sponsoring the team this year.”
“Cool. Nice to meet you, Bruce.”
“Likewise.”
Cole nodded his head, but he didn’t say hi nor did he offer his hand. If Bruce thought that was rude, you couldn’t tell from his expression.
“I’m going to take the kids to the truck for ice cream. You want anything, Mace?”
“No, I’m good. I’ll see you at the next practice, right?”
“Yep.” Bruce turned to me. “Nice to meet you, Mia. Cole.”
“Bye.”
He moved to the crowd of kids, knew they were eager for their ice cream since that had been my favorite part of practice too.
“You joining us for dinner, Cole?”
“No. See you tomorrow.” And then he was gone.
“Why does he do that?” I asked, a bit miffed that Cole could blow hot and cold so easily.
“He’s a loner, Mia.”
“And yet he was here. Why was he here?”
“Maybe he’s trying to be less of a loner with us.”
Moving from the bench, I helped Dad with the equipment. “He needs to try harder.”
Dad’s laugh in response was a really nice sound.
Walking from school to Dad’s garage, my thoughts were on the pile of homework I had to do. High school sucked. Turning the corner on the street where the garage was located, I noticed the fancy black car parked at the end. It stood out because folks in South Philly didn’t typically drive big luxury cars like that. I couldn’t help peeking in the window as I walked past and noticed the shock of pale blond hair. The doors opened and two men climbed from the car. They looked like cartoon characters; the one was ridiculously tall and skinny with that pale hair and his friend opposite in appearance: short, heavy with dark hair. The pale-hair man’s attention was on me, but it wasn’t attention
I wanted because he had crazy eyes—a blue that looked frosty it was so pale—but it was the darkness behind the eyes that had my feet moving faster because my instincts were telling me to get away as quickly as possible.
“Mia!” Dad bellowed from down the street, walking at a fast clip to get to me. The pale-hair man’s focus turned to my dad and he gave him the same creepy smile, before both creeps climbed back into their car. Moments later, the engine roared to life and the car drove off.
My dad had me pressed against him; his heart pounded really hard in his chest. “Are you okay? Did they say anything to you?”
“No. Who were they?”
“No one you need to worry about.”
Keeping his arm around my shoulders, we walked back to the garage. “How was school?”
And though he tried to act casual, I knew he felt far from it. Hoping to help ease his tension, I played along. “Fine, but I have homework.”
“You can have my office. I’ll ask one of the boys to get you a snack. What do you want?”
“Cannoli cake from Vincent’s.”
Dad stopped walking and peered down at me, the genuine grin helped to ease my own worry. “I don’t know why I bother asking.”
“Me neither.”
His arms tightened around me as we started along again. “Love you, kid.”
“Love you, Dad.”
That night for dinner Dad and I ate my attempted recreation of Vincent’s chicken parmigiana. It was edible, certainly, but not a masterpiece like Vincent’s. Maybe he’d show me how to make it if I asked. While washing up after dinner, I happened a glance out the window and noticed the car parked across the street. There was nothing unusual about that except for who was in the car, the counterpart to the creep with the pale hair, his short, dark-haired friend. He just sat there, head turned in the direction of my house, his focus unwavering. Even I understood that something was up, first they show up at the garage and now here. What did they want and why wouldn’t they leave us alone?
“Dad, that pale-hair creep’s friend is parked across the street.”