by Jason Winn
“Because it’s dangerous,” Madison shot back. “That’s why. Didn’t you hear Veronica and Joey? People could start getting killed soon.”
“I know,” Dana shouted. “I died for this business. Remember? Besides, I can take care of myself. Probably just as good as Sarah. I used to get into a lot of fights.”
Fights? That’s your resume? Madison thought.
“And you only died, because you got caught,” is what Madison wanted to fire back, but what would be the point?
“Jesus, keep your voice down.” Madison didn’t need this shit right now. “Fuck. Dana, I can’t get into this with you right now.”
“I want to make more money.” Dana’s face began to turn red.
“For what? What do you need? You’ve got a huge room in the mansion, a car, no bills and all you have to do is sit at a counter and watch pastry get stale. That’s it.”
“You can get anyone to do that,” Dana snapped.
Madison took a deep breath and stifled an urge to just knock Dana out. “Yes, but I can’t trust just anyone, like I can you. I brought you into all of this, because you’re family and eventually I will teach you everything, but first we’ve got to get everything under control.” The notion of Dana doing anything beyond managing a cash register was laughable, however. She still lived like a teenager, in a messy room, with snack wrappers everywhere. Sarah, who was five years Dana’s junior, was more responsible. And, if it hadn’t been for the ashes of Nancy Mosby’s Moonmilk empire, Dana would still be living in that trailer park with an abusive boyfriend.
“Nancy was my grandmother too.” The tears were rolling down her cheeks now, mixing with the fresh powder. Probably more from the alcohol, but Madison could see that there was some real pent-up frustration here. The kind that she would eventually vent to the wrong person, like Mom or Shelby. And even though they were family, Madison didn’t want to find out where Shelby’s ultimate loyalty lay – the family or the FBI.
“I know. And I get it, you’re pissed. You think you can do more.”
“I mean, you don’t do anything like have to sit at a cash register all day and pretend to be nice to people.”
“No,” Madison shouted now, pissed that Dana would trivialize everything she did for the operation. “I had to get shot at and watch my boyfriend get shot in the fucking head.” Now she really did want to punch Dana.
“I remember.” She wiped away tears and sniffed.
Madison’s ball of rage crashed into a brick wall and shattered. Of course, she remembered. Dana was sitting right there, next to him when it happened. Fuck.
“Come here.” Madison held out her arms and Dana fell into them. “We’ll find something better for you. And soon.” Maybe she could find something more meaningful for her little sister.
But, I need to be able to trust you, she thought. Madison’s world was becoming more dangerous. She knew she would fall apart if someone else, close to her, died for her sins.
They stood there for what felt like an hour, crying into each other’s hair. Madison with the wound of Reese’s murder reopened and Dana with her frustration of being nothing more than a checkout girl, and wanting to feel like she was really a part of the family business. Sure, the two pains were disparate, but Madison was too drunk to give a shit.
Dana pulled away first. She picked up a stack of hand towels and blew her nose. “Oh, before I forget, this guy I was dancing with gave me this. Told me to give it to you.”
She pulled a small red envelope from her pocket and handed it to Madison.
This jarred Madison. Who in Sage would just give Dana a letter to give her?
“Did they say anything other than to give it to me?” Madison asked.
Dana just shook her head and blew her nose again.
“What did they look like?”
“Regular-looking guy. My age. Kind of cute. He had white streaks in his hair. I thought that was weird.”
Yes, that is weird.
There was no writing on the envelope. It was made of thick stationary paper—expensive paper. The flap was rough as if it were handmade.
Madison slid a shaky finger along the back and opened it. She removed the card. A plume of pink smoke rose as she did so.
Madison,
Your grandmother was a dear friend of mine. Sadly she left us too soon, and the business of our world must carry on. I would very much like to make your acquaintance. You can reach me with the enclosed totem. I trust you know how to use it. Just say the word “torchlight,” and we can discuss the details.
Sincerely yours,
Contessa Morano
Madison held the envelope upside down and a small gold coin fell into her palm. She held it up for a better look. The word Krugerrand was stamped across the top, and in the center lay a horned animal. Was it an antelope?
“What is it?” asked Dana.
The antelope’s head turned and looked straight at Madison. She stared back and the tiny head of the beast tilted like a curious dog.
“More trouble, I bet.” Madison had heard the name Contessa Morano before, but she couldn’t remember where.
***
Back at the table, Joey said his goodbyes and took off. Sarah and Jane sat watching the club with its rhythmic wave of people, undulating to the beat.
“Think I should buy this place?” Madison asked no one particular. She wanted to get her mind off her mounting problems.
“Sure,” said Dana. “I could run it.”
Sarah snorted a laugh, and looked away.
“What?” asked Dana. “I could do it. How hard could it be?”
The unmistakable sound of a slap came from the other table. Alexi stood over his date as she cowered on the leather couch. No one seemed to notice. Or, maybe they did and didn’t care, so long as celebrities kept coming and talking about the place online.
“Oh, fuck that,” said Madison. She took out her phone and snapped a picture of Alexi screaming at the redhead.
“Madison, don’t,“ said Jane. She tried to block Madison’s line of sight.
“Hey, asshole,” Madison shouted.
“We should get out of here,” said Jane. “This isn’t the sort of attention you want.” She went to grab Madison’s arm and missed.
Madison held up her phone and pointed it at Alexi. His head snapped up. Sarah put her phone down and Dana started to cringe in her seat.
“TMZ’s gonna love this,” said Madison.
“Give me that!“ shouted Alexi. He had a thick Russian accent, his hair was sweaty and his eyes were full of game day fire. There was a black space in his mouth where some of his teeth had been knocked out.
“You like hitting women?” Madison shouted. “Team’s probably not going to like that.”
Large men were making their way through the crowd, toward the VIP section. Madison didn’t take notice of them.
Sarah and Jane stood up.
“Madison, come on,” said Jane. “Delete the photos and let’s get out of here. You don’t need this right now. Come on.” She took Madison’s forearm and gently tugged it.
Alexi came around from his section, invading Madison’s. He lunged at Madison’s phone. She jerked it away. In that moment, Jane pulled Madison out of his line of attack. Sarah swept in between Alexi and Madison and with a graceful twist of her body and Alexi’s momentum, whipped him around and brought him crashing down onto the table.
Bottles broke under the force of his fall. Liquor splashed everywhere. Sarah, not content with dropping the 240-pound hockey god, slammed the heel of her foot into his already flat nose.
Shouts of “oh shit” rose up from the crowd.
Alexi brought his hands up to his face. Blood poured from his nose. Sarah looked over to the stunned woman Alexi had been yelling at and slapping around.
“Which hand did he hit you with?” asked Sarah.
The woman held up her right hand.
Seeing that, Sarah snatched Alexi’s right hand by the thumb and twisted his
wrist inward until it cracked. He let out a wail of agony and rolled off onto the floor. Blood stippled the back of his linen shirt where the bottles had broken.
Sarah leaned down and shouted, “I swear on my fucking mother, if you touch her again, you’re dead.”
She punctuated her sentence with another kick to Alexi’s bloody back.
The bouncers arrived, stunned looks on their faces.
“He’ll need a cast,” Sarah said calmly.
“You can’t do that to a VIP,” said one of the bouncers.
“Don’t worry,” Madison said, holding up her phone. “He won’t be a VIP for long.”
***
As they pulled away from the club, Madison sat in the front seat of the car as Jane drove. Sarah and Dana sat in back.
“That was really stupid, Madison,” said Jane. A sucker in her mouth rattled against her teeth.
“He was hitting a woman,” said Madison. “HE can’t get away with that.”
“That doesn’t matter to you. You have to keep a low profile. You ever hear of Carlo Gambino?”
“No.”
“Exactly. He was one of the most powerful New York mob bosses in history. And he managed to die of old age. You know how he did that?”
“No, tell me.” She slumped in her seat, mad at herself for drinking a little too much.
“He kept a low profile. He lived in a simple house, and never tried to look like a big shot who controlled half the city. People barely knew his name and those who did know who he was, were smart enough to keep their mouths shut. He could make you disappear with the wink of an eye. That’s real power.”
Madison was silent, watching the Georgetown traffic crawl through the streets.
“You have to resist the temptation to flaunt your new status. It will only attract unwanted attention.”
Jane was right, but damn. What good was money you couldn’t use? She argued with Jane in her head for the next few minutes and begrudgingly realized Jane was right. It stung to admit it, but she might have to cut out all the fun stuff for a while and just focus on work.
“Joey’s gonna be pissed at you, Sarah,” said Madison. Hopefully he wouldn’t be too pissed at Madison for letting Sarah get carried away.
Chapter 17
Interview with Nancy Mosby of Blue Petal Foods International
Source: 60 Minutes
Recorded: December 1989
Steve Kroft: Make any enemies on the way to the top?
Nancy Mosby: A few, yes.
Steve Kroft: But, you’ve got some pretty powerful friends. I’m going to read a few names you’ve been known to associate with; President Reagan, J Paul Getty, Teddy Kennedy, former President Carter, Ross Perot, Warren Buffett. Those are some big names. You think you’re on their list of powerful friends?
Nancy Mosby: I have no doubt.
***
Madison stared at the gold coin in one hand and the smoky invitation in the other. She closed the invitation with her thumb and opened it again. The same plume of pink smoke rose up every time she parted the card. The smoke didn’t smell like smoke. It had the delicate fragrance of expensive perfume.
She stood in the middle of the ballroom as storm clouds swirled above the city outside. Rain pelted and streamed down the windows. And in spite of all of that, Han was outside going through his morning exercises by the gazebo. He kicked and punched imaginary enemies, the same as he’d done for the last fifty years.
Dana shuffled around in the kitchen, looking for something to soak up the booze still in her system, and Sarah was smoking pot in the poolroom.
The word “torchlight” played over and over in Madison’s head. She put the card in her pocket and reasoned there was no time like the present. She flicked the coin into the air and watched it land on the floor, antelope-side up.
“Torchlight.”
Her heart pounded in her chest as she waited for a smoky apparition to appear, just as it had for countless other totem communications. Where had Grandmother held all her hologram smoke chats? Probably someplace more sensible like the study in the basement, where no one just walking up to the house could look into a window and see someone actually talking to something resembling a fucking ghost. That would have gotten the tabloids talking. “Owner of Fortune 50 Company Talks to Ghosts, proof on page 6.”
Madison could feel herself huffing and puffing like a marathon runner, waiting for whatever was going to happen.
The coin wiggled on the floor and plumes of red smoke arose from the edges. Unable to control her own body now, she took a step back and almost tripped over her feet. The cloud transformed into the outline of a short, frail woman. She wore what looked like a smoking jacket along with round glasses, too big for her face. Her posture conveyed power and confidence, chest out and chin high. Although at her height she was probably always looking up at people.
“Madison?” the woman asked. “Are you Madison?”
“Yes,” Madison replied, trying to bring her breathing back to normal. Looking weak and scared right now would not strike the impression of a “gangster,” as Sarah had called her last night.
“I’m Contessa Morano.” Her voice was deep, yet gentle. “A pleasure to finally meet you.” She smiled and tilted her head.
“Who are you?”
“Didn’t you read my letter? I assume you did, or you wouldn’t have the totem.”
“Yes, I did.” Madison felt like she was pushing the words out of her mouth.
“Oh, you look so scared. Don’t be, child. Your grandmother and I were very close. Did she ever mention me?”
“No.” Then, Madison remembered the coral glass order Z had given her, right before he was shot. He said Madison would have to go see Contessa Morano to get it. She almost blurted out a question about coral glass, but kept her mouth shut.
“Oh, that is so like Nancy, keeping her business all to herself.” Contessa paused and stroked her chin. “You’ve taken over her operation, I hear. That’s excellent.”
“I guess so.” Madison desperately wanted this woman to get to the point. “What do you want?” She was feeling more confident now. This tiny woman wasn’t a threat. That was obvious from her size and demeanor.
“I just wanted to say hello and see if there was anything I could do for you, now that you are selling Moonmilk.”
“I’m fine.” That was a lie, and she prayed Contessa couldn’t tell. You got a mess of red-shirted goons I can buy off you, cheap?
Contessa slouched. “Figured it all out, have you? That’s good.”
“How did you know my grandmother?”
“She and I were in business together. I handled her Philadelphia Moonmilk territory, amongst other things. I’m told that you’re making product just as good as hers. My customers here would love to get their hands on the Rose Widow’s Moonmilk.”
Jesus, word is traveling a little too fast.
“How did you find out about me?”
“Little birds chirp in my ear all day long. But truth be told, some of my customers found your product and told me that the Rose Widow is back. And I was so excited that I had to see for myself.”
This woman was being a little too coy for Madison’s liking. “Yeah, but who exactly gave my sister that letter?”
Contessa pursed her lips. “It was my son Corrado. He’s very handsome. The women adore him.”
With his zebra hair.
“I see. You’re still not answering my question. Who told you? I don’t meet with customers, so it had to be someone else.”
Who’s the traitor? A courier? Dana, perhaps. No. A pain shot up the side of Madison’s face and she willed her jaw to loosen.
Contessa stared at Madison.
“You’re wasting my time,” said Madison. She was about to say “torchlight” to end the conversation, forcing the smoke back into the coin.
“It was one of your couriers.”
What!? Someone in her operation had talked. Madison’s heart rate shot up. Someone was go
ing to pay for this. She demanded strict silence from her people and her name was never to be mentioned, ever. “Which one?”
“I’ll tell you if you agree to meet with me.”
“How do I know this isn’t some sort of trap?”
“Madison, I was Nancy’s friend. I have proof. Let me show you.”
“I don’t think so.”
There was a pause between the two women. Madison must have looked furious, but she didn’t care. Contessa was right: someone in her organization must have given her up and now this woman, whoever the hell she was, knew about her. Secrecy was safety, and now that was blown all to hell.
“I can also tell you that I may have a clue as to where your grandmother was last seen. And it wasn’t in Hong Kong as the papers reported.”
Madison’s rage subsided, replaced with hope. “Bullshit.” She instantly regretted saying that. What if Contessa knew something about Nancy? Why was she being a bitch to her?
“Madison, I can see that you are young, and possibly inexperienced in dealing with people in the magical world, but Nancy and I were friends and I can prove it to you at our meeting. I can see that you are suspicious. You are right to be that way. But let me say this: I have a legitimate interest in your safety. And my customers need your product. I can tell you firsthand that when sorcerers get used to having the finest Moonmilk in the world, they can become very difficult people to deal with when it is taken away. A lot of good people died when your grandmother left us. Fighting and killing one another when the Rose Widow’s Moonmilk became scarce. I’d hate to see that happen again. Wars aren’t good for business.”
Madison considered this. “All right. I’ll meet you, but in a public place.”
“How about the National Mall? You can’t get much more public than that, can you?”
“Fine.”
“Excellent.”
With that Contessa’s smoky apparition disappeared, leaving only a small gold coin on the rug.
Madison stared at it for a moment and looked out over the north lawn. Han was gone and she felt very much alone.