by Nova Rain
“Donny?” She squinted up at me. “What are you doing here?”
“Thanks for the warm welcome,” I assumed an ironic tone. “Where’s Joe?”
“I’m right here.” I heard his voice, before he halted behind her. “Morning. Michelle, go get ready. I’ll handle this.”
“And to think she used to lecture you about your manners,” I giggled, stepping into the living room. “Whoa!” I exclaimed, spotting a 75-inch TV in the corner. “When did you get that?”
“Don’t mind her. She’s still upset about the bombing,” Joe explained. “You didn’t come here to check out my new stuff, did you?”
“No, man,” I shook my head in denial. “We have a problem. Actually, we have two problems. You already mentioned the first.”
“What’s the second?” He posed the question, padding towards his front porch.
“I’m guessing you know about that accident on I-78,” I presumed, gazing out at the lake.
“Yeah, why?”
“It wasn’t an accident,” I began, the moment he turned to me. “The guy in that Porsche was chasing after Ava Rockwell. Bryan shot out his tire. I talked to him before he died. He said she worked for him. He even mentioned the name of that strip club. ‘Smoking Lace.’”
“That’s impossible, man,” Joe rejected that notion. “Ava quit six weeks ago.”
“Did she?” I doubted, hands on my waist. “The guy said ‘works,’ Joe. Present tense. My gut says she’s involved in something dirty. And if she is…”
“They’ll keep coming after her,” he finished my phrase, an expression of concern painted across his face.
“We both know what that means,” I told him, my tone steady. “Look, man…” I paused and swallowed hard. “I wasn’t going to bring this up, because you seem to be enjoying this new lifestyle. We miss you out there. You found your special one, but if you don’t do something about it, you might lose her.”
Joe huffed and scratched his forehead. “What do you want, Donny?”
“The old Joe back,” I retorted, a little surprised by his question. Joe had the brains to figure out my suggestion. “And it’s not what I want, baby. It was ‘til last night, but now, I don’t think you have much choice. Someone bombed your mall, buddy. Hell, it could be the same prick chasing Ava; we don’t know for sure. You can’t fight them from here. You need to get back out there.”
“I’m done with that shit, Donny,” Joe claimed, lowering his tone. “I made a promise to Michelle. I can’t break it.”
“Tell me something,” I urged, maintaining the calmness in my voice. “What the hell will that promise mean to her if she winds up dead in a shooting? Or if she gets blown up with Ava and that doctor? You’re not going to work for anyone, Joe. You’re going to do this to protect her. I don’t remember her having a problem with that.”
“No, she doesn’t,” he spoke, pressing his lips together. “Alright. I’m in.”
“Yeah, baby!” I cheered, punching the air. “So, when do we start? Where do we start?”
“Tonight,” he continued, his tone sharp. “Smoking Lace. Call Bryan and let him know. We meet at ten-thirty outside ‘Mel’s Coffee House’ on Pico Street.”
“How will you sell this to Michelle?” I regretted my words, the minute they came out of my mouth.
“Let me worry about that,” he suggested, pointing to his chest.
“About what?” At the sound of her voice, I decided to keep my mouth shut. Besides, the two of them had to discuss something, and I couldn’t be there.
“I’ll let you two have a word,” I said, strolling away from him. “Have a good one, Michelle.” I dismissed her with a smile and left her behind, glad that I didn’t have to try too hard to convince my friend. Joe was in love, sure, but he wasn’t stupid. More than that, he had enough experience to realize whether someone was in danger or not. In Ava’s case, it was as clear as daylight. She hadn’t been honest with him or Michelle for that matter, and that dishonesty could get them both in trouble.
With daylight fading away, I was in high spirits. For the first time in six months, Bryan and I wouldn’t be alone. We’d have the third and final piece of our puzzle with us. Because that’s what we were together. A big, nasty puzzle of muscle, bad tempers and a determination to take out anything and anyone that opposed us. I couldn’t help but smile when Joe got into my car. It reminded me of the time when the three of us took down Eric Santone. He was hands down the cheapest and most perverted Don we had ever met. We had exchanged quite a few blows in that war. He had devised an evil plan to kill Michelle, but we managed to beat him. Okay, we got some help from our current boss, but that didn’t change the facts.
Still, Joe didn’t seem to share my enthusiasm. He didn’t say much throughout the drive to the strip club. Instead, he let Bryan and me do all the talking. Within minutes though, I lost every desire to ramble about what we had to do. We had been on dozens of stakeouts. Neither of them needed a reminder.
The pink and green neon lights of “Smoking Lace” were flashing in the darkness as I pulled up outside. The sign depicted a lit cigarette between a pair of lush lips, right next to a pair of legs in stockings. Cars were entering and exiting the parking lot to the right.
“I have a feeling we’re not going to find that sweet Beamer in that lot,” Joe murmured, his eyes on rows of vehicles.
“There’s only one way to find out.” I replied, turning left and into the lot. In a matter of seconds, his prediction came true. I scanned the area for Ava’s BMW, but it was nowhere to be seen. Finding a space between a green Honda and a white Ford, I parked my Cadillac.
“Boys, we need to keep a low profile,” Joe advised. “I don’t think we should go in.”
“Then how do we talk to anyone?” I wondered, shoving my hands into the pocket of my coat.
“We wait for one of the strippers to show up,” Joe suggested, his tone calm. “They’re more likely to talk than Ava’s old bosses.”
“Old…?” I scoffed, dragging my gaze away from him. “Not really. I doubt she ever quit.”
“That’s because you didn’t see her when she did,” Joe remarked, his jaw hardening. “She came by the house with a bottle of champagne and told us that very night. She was all smiles, because she’d finally found a way out of that crap. When she left, Michelle told me she’d never seen her happier.”
“Ahem…” Bryan cleared his throat, drawing our attention. A blue Cherokee had just rolled into the lot, its female driver wearing a piece of fur around her neck. Joe strode past me and turned in her direction, blocking her path.
“Hey!” she yelled, slamming her horn. “Move out of my way!”
I tapped my fingers on the passenger window and leaned towards her SUV.
“What?!” she groaned, rolling down her window.
“Hi, honey.” I smiled down at her. “Do you mind if I ask you a couple of questions? I promise it won’t take long.”
“Are you a cop?” she shouted as I leaned my elbows on the windowsill.
“Do we look like cops to you?” I answered with a question of my own. “What’s your name, sweetheart?”
“Trinity,” she said, assuming a mellower tone. “Make it snappy.”
“I’d like to know if a brunette still works here,” I stated, attempting a serious voice. “You know her by the name ‘Peaches.’ Does that ring any bells?”
“Ava hasn’t worked here since mid-January,” Trinity responded. “She’s not forgotten us, though. She’s still the girls’ main supplier.”
“Of what?”
“Cocaine.” That single word tore any sense of relief to shreds. “Some of us need a high to go on stage. Not me by the way.”
“Thanks,” I muttered and tapped the hood of the Cherokee, before straightening myself up. “Shit!” My stentorian voice echoed into nothingness.
“This is insane,” Bryan whispered, staring at me as Joe shook his head in disapproval.
“So, she’s doing the one thing we never did,
” I spoke in a weak voice, shifting my attention to Joe, “dealing drugs.”
“There’s got to be a good explanation for this,” he assumed, running his hand through his hair.
“Maybe,” I rolled my shoulders. “But if I were you, I’d remember what she did when you ran into her in Santone’s party. Return the favor, Joe. Your girl has to know about this.”
“She will,” he gave a nod of agreement. We headed back to my car in silence. None of us was in a mood to discuss this any further. I didn’t know about Joe and Bryan, but to me, this was a shock. I believed that Ava was still a stripper. The attention and the money were too sweet for her to drop out. Her current activities hadn’t even crossed my mind. I just didn’t think she was capable of doing such a thing. And how could I be? She had been criticizing me and my boys since Joe started a relationship with Michelle. Now, it was my turn to criticize her.
Chapter Five
Ava
Should I have stopped?
This simple question had been weighing on my mind since the night of Hackman’s accident. I saw his Porsche roll over in my rearview mirror. I knew what had happened to him, and yet, I had chosen to leave him out there. And, judging by what I read online, perhaps giving him first aid would have made a difference. He was pronounced dead just twenty minutes after his accident.
But, every time I asked myself that, a voice within rebelled at the thought of doing anything differently. Hackman was dirt. He was one of the reasons why I wanted to quit my job. In the three years he had been my boss, neither I nor any of the girls in “Smoking Lace” had any fond memories of him. On the contrary, we would remember his shouts, his abusive behavior and his cheapness. His moto was:
“Men have rights. Pieces of meat don’t.”
Who in the world would help that rotten bastard? Surely nobody that knew who he was, that’s for sure.
As the time for my meeting with Donny drew nearer however, those thoughts flew out of my mind. In their stead, came a desire to have some fun. It wasn’t sexual; besides, the two of us were on bad terms. I just wanted to clear the air between us. I was prepared to be honest with him, but first, he had to be honest with me. Who was Donny Falcone? What had he done as a henchman? Well, plenty of bad things, but I needed to hear details. He and I were similar, at least to an extent. I wasn’t a choir girl by any means. I never liked norms and conformities, but I wasn’t an outlaw like him. Still, a society drowning in conservatism despised anything that had to do with my line of work.
Stripper? That was a big no-no. Maybe you can do a striptease at home for your significant other, although even that was considered too bold for most women. In a club? For money? You must be a whore, because only whores get paid for using their bodies to seduce men. There was no seduction of course, but try telling them that. They’d be outraged if you even dared to defend yourself.
The view of Donny’s ancient Cadillac in the security camera feed sent me to the liquor cabinet first, and then the kitchen. Soon, a bottle of whiskey and a bottle of tequila, along with some ice were set on the table. A glance at his attire told me that he hadn’t treated this any differently than I had. He was in a pair of jeans and a red sweater.
“Good evening,” I uttered, taking a step back. “Come on in.”
“Hi,” he muttered under his breath, somewhat puzzling me. Donny wasn’t the low-key type. He was the exact opposite of that. “I’ll never get over the size of this place.” He added, looking up at the tall ceiling.
“I’m still trying to get used to it, too,” I confessed, strolling back into the living room. “What are you having? Scotch? Tequila? Something else?”
“How about some honesty for a change?” I bolted my feet to the floor at his commanding tone.
“What are you talking about?” I asked, looking back at him.
“For the past six months, all I get from you is judgment and nastiness,” he stated, his slow footsteps bringing him closer and closer to my spot. “I’d accept both if they came from a real lady, like your friend Michelle. I’ve been meaning to complain to you about all this and see if we can find a way to be in the same room without bitching about each other, for Joe and Michelle’s sake. But, last night, I found out you’re an even bigger hypocrite than I thought. Ava Rockwell, the expensive stripper, is actually a mule.”
“Have you ever stripped naked in front of anyone?” I wondered, swallowing my shock. I had to respond to this, otherwise he’d believe he was one hundred percent right.
“No,” Donny spoke in a relaxed tone, moving around me. “Why?”
“Well, if you had, you’d realize how hard it is,” I explained, putting some force in my voice. “I’ve seen girls break down in tears after their performance. They need something to get over that embarrassment. I provide it for them.”
“I get why women can feel bad about taking their clothes off on stage,” he declared, his face stiffening. “I just don’t get why you have to be the one to sell them that shit. I’ve done a lot of bad things in my life, darling. I’ve shot people. I’ve blackmailed people. I have never dealt drugs. Ever.”
“How come?” I posed the question, my face twisting into an expression of surprise.
“I was never a fan of anything that turned people’s minds into mush,” he claimed, looking deep down into my eyes. “Don’s consider hits and theft a lot tougher than selling drugs. That’s why none of my bosses ever asked me to do that. The same goes for Joe and Bryan. In fact, our hate of marijuana was the first thing we ever talked about.”
“Good for you, but like I said, I need to help those girls,” I insisted, not taking my eyes off of him.
“Because you’re… Hmmm,” he hummed, tapping his index finger on his chin.
“I believe the word you’re looking for is ‘compassionate,’” I saved him the trouble of further thought.
“I’d believe that if you were giving that coke away,” he attempted a tighter tone, discomfort beginning to take over his expression. “You make pretty good money now. I’m sure you can buy your stripper friends a few grams a month.”
“Damn you, Falcone…” I gave a huff of exasperation, realizing that I couldn’t hide from him. “Okay.” I sucked in a deep breath and tucked some tendrils of my hair behind my ear. “I’m a bad gambler. I mean, I was a bad gambler. I quit three weeks ago. I owe a lot of money to five people. All of them are respectable businessmen. They gave me three months to pay them back. But even with my new job, that’s impossible. I’m talking about two hundred-and-thirty thousand dollars.”
“Damn…” He tore his gaze away from me at the amount. “That’s a huge debt. It’s almost what you make in two years.”
“Well, I don’t have two years,” I raised my tone slightly. “I can stall them, because those guys are reasonable, but how much more time will they give me? A week? Two weeks maybe?”
“Why don’t you go to Michelle?” He wondered, furrowing his brow. “You guys are tight. She wouldn’t leave you hanging.”
“I can’t,” I shook my head sideways, closing my eyes. “I made a promise to her I’d quit last March. I did quit, but I fell off the wagon in the summer. She’d get really mad at me if she found out.”
“Not as mad as she’ll get when Joe tells her all about the coke,” Donny’s comment sent shockwaves through my system.
“He wouldn’t,” I spoke in a shaking voice, wishing I was correct.
“Yeah, he would,” Donny affirmed with a nod. “You told Michelle everything about him, and those two weren’t even together. He ought to return the favor.”
“While we’re on the subject of honesty, explain something to me,” I groaned, glaring up at him. “You three made five million each off that armored truck heist. How is it that you and Bryan are still working for a Mafia Don? Why aren’t you in Jamaica? Or Hawaii?”
“Four million,” he corrected me. “We had to pay a little extra to Bryan’s cousin for hacking into the truck. “We’re working for Maltese, because if we d
isappeared, the whole organization would know who robbed that truck. And if you think they wouldn’t find us if we left the country, guess again. They would.”
“They’d kill you?” I’d been suspecting the answer before I asked him. “Why? I thought it was okay for you people to steal.”
“It is when hits are authorized by Don’s. This wasn’t,” he explained. “This was just Joe’s attempt to make enough money to buy Michelle’s life with. But…” he faltered, looking at me with sullen eyes.
“But…?” I was hanging on his lips, the change in his expression adding to my tension. “But what?”
“I have to use some of it to protect you,” Donny’s statement made my previous surprise seem tiny in comparison. I stood there, mouth agape, unable to force a single word out of my throat. “You say the guys you owe are decent. Maybe they are, but money can make people do crazy things. I’ve seen it happen. A lot. It wouldn’t surprise me if it happened again. So…”
“Shut up…” I interrupted with a murmur, tossing my hands up to his face. I cupped his cheeks and tilted my head up, because he had said enough. Donny Falcone had made my heart sing the happiest tune it had sung in a while. There was just one word in it…
Freedom.
He had offered to do something beyond noble. Beyond generous. He intended to pull me out of this horrible predicament. The moment he uttered those words was a revelation to me. Whatever he had done, this man wanted what was best for me.
I trailed my fingers across his jawline, his full lips caressing my mouth. Long, strong arms held me in a tight embrace as his tongue probed the seam of my lips. I parted them, flames of desire growing within. I felt them licking my insides, urging me to take him right there and then. On the couch. On the floor. Up against the wall or even on the living room table — it didn’t matter. But just when I released his left cheek, his next move acted like a bucket of water on a bonfire.
“No…” he whispered in a voice thick with lust, pushing me back. “What the fuck are you doing?”