Here and Gone

by Kelly Wood

  “Your boy, the young one? He has a fancy for my wife’s cousin.” Costa twirled his whiskey in the glass, holding it up to the light. Antonio didn’t comment. “It would bond us, Antonio. One family.”

  “With you at the helm?”

  “No. With us, Antonio.”

  “Separate but equal? This isn’t the fifties, and there’s only one captain of the ship.”

  “I see it differently. We could blaze our own trail. Stop the constant infighting. Keep both our families strong.”

  “I have every intention of sticking to our agreement. If you do, too, then what’s the point?” Antonio asked.

  “The point is, once word gets out about Milano, one of the New York families will try to move to Vegas. If we don’t prevent it from the start, by combining our forces, we leave room for someone else. You know it. I know it.” With that Costa emptied his glass and slammed it down on the table.

  “He’s right.” Franky didn’t mean to speak, but since he had, he took a moment and used it. Both men looked at him. Antonio’s face showed anger. Franky’s place wasn’t to speak. Costa’s face showed interest. Costa waved for Franky to continue. “He’s right, Boss. History shows families don’t stick together for long unless it is mutually beneficial. Gracie and Guy’s affair aside, you have a shot here.”

  “Go on. Frank, is it?” Costa stood to refill his glass. He poured two more for Antonio and Franky. Franky didn’t correct him on that he preferred Frank-y.

  “Caesar’s Palace is halfway down the Strip. Both of your hotels are on either side. Boss, you take north. Costa, you take south. The rest can be divided as the need arises. Most of the business is on the Strip anyway.”

  “Who’s in charge?” Antonio wanted to know.

  “Both of you. You run your own crews. Make it clear the men work together or don’t work for either of you.”

  “Who settles disputes?” Antonio asked again. Antonio didn’t like the thought of sharing the limelight with anyone.

  “Both of you. Bring in a third unbiased party when you can’t reach an agreement. But, I’ve been with you awhile, Boss. You two may have different styles, but you see the world through the same glasses.”

  Antonio relaxed his posture completely for the first time tonight. He sat back in his chair, his hands locked under his chin, deep in thought. Costa was the first to break the silence.

  “What do you see for the future, Frank?” Franky liked the sound of the grown-up name. He puffed out his chest as he thought for a moment before continuing. He wanted to project knowledge, authority. This was his biggest moment yet. His biggest chance to prove himself.

  “It’s time to change our image. Blend in more. Time to ditch the look of the old world and the style. We should be more active in the community. Do charitable work. On the outside, project pillars of the community.”

  “Look like pansies?” Antonio asked.

  “No, Boss. Blend in. Our family reputations will speak for us when problems arise. We’ve already proven our strength. Especially when Milano is gone.”

  “Clean up our acts, so to speak, Frank?” Costa said.

  “Yes. Give the authorities a reason to look to the underbelly while we are amongst them the whole time. Less muscle. More finesse,” Franky said.

  “Antonio? Your thoughts?” Costa asked.

  “I need to think on this.”

  “Let’s. Let’s all think on this. I’d like the three of us to meet again. We’ll come together and plan.” Costa said the three of us. Franky tried to hide his smile.

  “Gentlemen, let me walk you out.” The three men finished their drinks in one pull each before heading to the back of the house. Costa opened the door and stepped out with Franky and Antonio.

  As they shook hands next to Bianchi’s car, two men emerged from the trees behind the house. Milano and his last man standing both held guns on the group.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Tabitha reacted quickly. She hauled me from the chair and shoved me in the direction of the shampoo bowls, yanking the foils out as she went. I didn’t mind the pulling and pushing as long as she was fixing whatever caused the smoke and stopped the burning on my scalp.

  Tabitha didn’t wait for me to get settled in the chair. She pushed my head straight down and turned on the water. The cool cascade felt like heaven against my scalp. I stood still, bent at the waist as she worked the water around. After a moment I inched over and crawled into the seat, slowly twisting until I could lay my head in the headrest. It poked into my neck, but I didn’t mind. The awkward position felt comforting to me.

  Tabitha shampooed and rinsed my hair multiple times using cool water. After layering in a thick layer of conditioner, she told me she wanted it to sit a moment and turned off the water. She tried to hide the look of worry she passed to Passion, but I caught it.

  Mom and Grams stood hovering over me, too. Grandma left a trail of greasy footprints. I focused on her with her pink linen pants rolled up to her knees. The green goo gave an eerie cast to her skin tone. Between the green goo, pink pantsuit, and blue hair, she was a walking rainbow of color.

  Tabitha rinsed out my hair before wrapping it in a towel. I sat up and slowly trudged back to the stylist station. A man walking the plank would have used a faster pace. Mom, Passion, and Grams shuffled behind me. Grams’s feet made sucking sounds with each step.

  I sat down and braced myself. I told myself that it wouldn’t matter. No matter how blonde the highlights were. It could always be fixed. This was my mantra. I repeated it over and over again.

  Tabitha loosened the towel and gave my hair a squeeze with it to get out the excess water. My nightmare came true. My mantra failed. Even without knowing how to do hair, I could see there was no fixing this.

  Most of my hair trailed down long and dark, but the rest... The highlighted pieces broke off in Tabitha’s hands with every touch. Short spikes of dark hair sprouted off my head all over. The blonde tails disintegrating and falling to the floor. The strands looked like yellow cotton candy.

  “Well... at least it’s not breaking all the way down to the root,” I said optimistically. I was holding onto any silver lining I could find to keep from crying. I guess I was more attached to my hair than I realized.

  I looked at their faces in the mirror. Tabitha couldn’t meet my eyes. Mom looked... I probably shouldn’t use that word. I’ll say very, very angry based on the red tone of her face. Passion pressed her face to mine and took a selfie with me. Her beautiful face smiling while my mouth hung open. The other stylist was in the back room. I could hear her banging around trying to stay busy when really, she was probably just hiding from the explosive situation out here.

  “Some things are funny now. Some are funny later. Just making sure you’ll have this when you are ready.” Passion tapped away at her phone screen. “Plus, Peyton is going to want to see this. And, send.”

  Tabitha found the courage to look me in my eyes in the mirror. She stared with focus at my ruined head. Clearly weighing the options. “What can you do?” I asked.

  “How fast does your hair grow?”

  I ignored the question. The answer was obvious.

  Not fast enough.

  “What happened?” I asked.

  “We’ll look into it. I’m very sorry, Regan. We’ll fix this.” Tabitha picked up another strand. It fell apart in her hand. “As best we can.”

  “You’d better fix this. What kind of operation are you running here?” Mom pointed her finger at my hair. Jabbing with every word. “I heard what you said earlier. Rats, and pool malfunctions, and, now, ru-ruined hair.”

  Tabitha’s face blanched and turned a pale shade of green as my mom spoke. I smiled at Mom with love. She was a fierce protector of her children to the very end. If Passion and I didn’t calm the situation down soon, Mom would call in the local news teams and create a public relations nightmare. It would be a nice gesture for me, but Passion still had a show here that needed to be successful. I didn’t want
to ruin her opportunity before it hatched.

  “Tabitha? What’s best-case scenario?” I asked. I needed a light at the end of the tunnel. I needed a plan of action. Tabitha studied my face in the mirror, pulling my hair—what was left—in different directions. No matter what she did, small pieces stuck up.

  “You look like a half-plowed hay field.”

  “Thanks, Grams.” I blinked away the tears that were forming. I’d say just to shave it all, but Passion was right. I did want to look beautiful today. For Gray.

  “You have the perfect face for a pixie. Small, cute ears, too. Since we did the shadow root, I could cut it all down. What do you think?” Tabitha rubbed my shoulders in comfort while I listened to her suggestion.

  “Is that best-case?” I watched Tabitha’s face in the mirror to see if she was telling the truth.

  “Yes, Regan.” She gave my shoulders a gentle squeeze.

  I looked at myself in the mirror, trying to judge what I would look like with short hair. I couldn’t picture it. It was just too drastic of a change.

  “Just do it,” I whispered. One, lone tear slipped out. I cleared my throat to prevent any others from escaping. I might be bald for my wedding because it was out of my control, but I could prevent puffy eyes.

  “Could we donate it?” Passion asked. “I mean, the rest of it.”

  “We could,” Tabitha said but without any conviction. I got the feeling she was just saying it to appease me. Everyone was tensed and walking on eggshells with every suggestion. They sensed I could easily crack.

  Tabitha pulled my hair into two pony tails and snipped them above the bands. She laid them down out of my sight. She started with clippers and buzzed the hair around my ear and the nape of my neck before picking up her shears.

  I watched every movement with an intensity reserved for Olympic judges. She worked quickly, but smoothly. She molded and shaped and cut. Tabitha explained every step as she went, what product I should use, and how to use it. The difference in the style was drastic, but I had to admit, complimentary to my face. Where my long hair pulled my features down, the shorter version lightened it. My cheekbones became more prominent. My green eyes brightened. Almost glowing. Oddly, my lips looked fuller.

  Tabitha spun the chair to face me away from the mirror. She excused herself while I looked up into the faces of Mom, Grams, and Passion. Nobody spoke, but I could see it in their eyes. They noticed the transformation, too.

  Tabitha returned with reinforcements. Two other stylists joined us to help finish us up, the damaged hair having left us short on time. Grams took one look at the spunky young girl with spiky pink hair and claimed her for herself.

  “I want that.” Grams pointed to her head. “But, in blue. Blue is my signature color.”

  A hiccup escaped me masked as a giggle. I mouthed ‘I love you’ to Grams. She was showing her own support by cutting her hair off, too. Not that she had as much hair as me to start, but I loved the thought.

  Mom sat in the chair next to me shooting me glances filled with worry. Her stylist quickly applied her makeup. Grams could be heard across the shop telling her stylist about her new beau. Passion had disappeared to somewhere. Her flighty personality would bring her back sometime.

  “As much as this pains me to say, you could postpone the ceremony,” Mom suggested.

  “Who are you and what have you done with my mother?” I asked.

  “It’s just a thought, Regan.”

  “I know. This will sound terrible, but I just want to get it over with. If we postpone, then what? For how long?” I waved Tabitha away from my face so I could look at my mom. I reached out for her hand. She stretched out to take mine. “I appreciate the thought, Mom. But, it’s okay. Today’s the day.”

  I let her think I was strong about the situation, but I was really being selfish. I didn’t want to have to start over. Passion took care of everything today. I liked the thought of just walking in, of my only responsibility being to get there. I closed my eyes and let Tabitha resume my makeup application.

  Passion returned to tell Tabitha all of the open bottles of products had been thrown away and new ones were in their place. Tabitha’s theory was someone had switched the different color developers. With everything else happening, it made sense. While Tabitha thought she was pulling out a soft caramel color, the use of the wrong developer brought out the white blonde, frying my dark hair. It didn’t matter at this point. What was done was done.

  “Are you ready?” Tabitha asked. She had firmly affixed her polished veneer back into place. Gone was the country twang. She twisted the chair around to the mirror.

  I sat forward in awe. Tabitha had used minimal makeup, but the effect was dazzling. My hair style looked like a throwback to Halle Berry’s short style, messy and sexy. My eyes looked lit from behind. Gloss highlighted my lips letting their natural berry hue shine through. I touched my cheek, testing to see if it was really me. My nails were shaped and filed and painted a medium gray.

  I looked to Passion for confirmation.

  “You’re even prettier than me,” Passion said.

  “But, will Gray think so?”

  “If he’s smart.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  I insisted on Gray seeing me before the wedding. Nobody protested since they understood my logic. If I shocked Gray with this new change while walking down the aisle toward him and he didn’t like it, it would break my heart.

  Passion entered the room first. The plan was Passion would position Gray with his back to the door so I could enter. She would turn him around after I was in place and prepared for his reaction.

  I nodded to Passion. She gripped Gray’s arms preparing to turn him around. Mom and Grams stood on either side of me for moral support. I kneaded my hands together in front of me waiting for his response.

  I watched Gray’s eyes as they traveled from my feet up my body. Worry clouded his face when he reached my hands. His eyes moved again and locked on my face. His smile shone from within.

  “You look beautiful.” Gray whispered the words. I touched the back of neck with insecurity. The skin felt exposed and vulnerable.

  “Really?”

  “Yes. You look... you look...” Gray crossed the room, putting his hands on my waist. I leaned back in his arms so he could continue to look at the new me.

  “Prettier than Passion?” I prompted.

  “You always have been,” Gray said. Passion rolled her eyes behind him. I laughed. “You ready to tie the knot?”

  “You’ll have to meet me at the altar to find out.” I winked at him and planted a kiss on his lips.

  Now, here I was, dressed and ready to go. I asked for time alone before the ceremony. I still had no idea what Passion’s plan was, but it involved one of the banquet rooms at the hotel. At first, I started to protest. I didn’t realize I always assumed I’d get married in a church until the option wasn’t there. My mom smoothed over that fire. She pointed out God was everywhere, we didn’t need a chapel to be married in his eyes.

  I paced the room wringing my hands. I wanted to bite my nails even though that was a habit I’d broken as a teenager. Banging, clanging and voices carried through the door. I was in an annex of the banquet room. Extra chairs and tables were stacked around me.

  A knock at the door caught my attention. Confusion marred my face at who it could be. Any of my family members would’ve barged right in. I opened the door to Gray’s father, Michael. He looked dashing in a dark tuxedo.

  “May I?” Michael gestured with his hand toward the room. I stepped back allowing him entrance. I started to close the door but left it ajar an inch. I turned to face him, running my hand down the back of my neck. I was still adjusting to the exposed and vulnerable feeling.

  “Your haircut is very becoming on you.” I smiled and made myself stop fidgeting. I clasped my hands in front of my stomach loosely.

  “Thank you,” I said.

  “Your marriage to Gray came as a shock, especially with ho
w quickly it has progressed in the last couple of days.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Please, Regan, call me Michael.” I nodded my head. “I welcome you to the family with open arms. Eventually Mary Francis will, too.” I relaxed my shoulders when Michael smiled after the comment.

  “There are some things I must talk to you about before the ceremony. I’d planned on a casual chat like old friends, but I’m on a time constraint.” Again, he smiled, but this time it had the opposite effect. He wanted to put me at ease, but I just wanted to run. I got the impression I was watching a well-choreographed show. Smile here, joke there. Woman becomes a nodding nitwit and does whatever man wants. I raised my hackles in defense.

  “Er—Michael, Gray told me about your... business. I’m aware, so we don’t really need to have this conversation.”

  “Are you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Let me expand on it.” I started to protest, but Michael held up his hand to stop me. “We take marriage very seriously in our... family. Once you’re in, you’re in. There will be no divorce or walking away.” Michael’s eyes locked on mine, conveying his real message. When Gray proposed originally, I had a minor freak-out and ran away to another country. Gray popped the question in Mexico. For Michael to know of it here—in Vegas—he was letting me know his reach. The threat was duly noted.

  “I believe I understand what you are saying. But, for the record, I may be marrying your son, but I am not marrying the family. Gray and I will do our own thing. We’ll live wherever we want and do whatever we want. Just like we do now. Am I making myself clear?”

  “That would be difficult without a trust fund,” Michael threatened.

  I scoffed. “Go ahead. Take it away. I didn’t even know about it until recently and Gray barely touches it. It wouldn’t affect our lifestyle in the least. You’ll need a better threat.”

  Michael’s eyebrows raised in surprise. I realized that I just told a mafia Don no. Twice. But it was too late to back down now. I squared my shoulders and stuck my hands on my hips. My heart raced but I took long even breaths to slow it down.