by Hamel, B. B.
* * *
I dropped Dante off back at his place. He lingered just outside the car then leaned in the open window.
“No hard feelings,” he said.
“None,” I said. “And I really am sorry about Chad.”
“We’ll make sure his family’s taken care of,” he said. “That’s the least we can do.”
“Good,” I said.
Dante met my eye and I saw a hint of my old friend in there. But he was buried by the past, by the loss and the anger that haunted him. I knew we’d never have that old relationship back, and it wasn’t fair of me to expect it.
I nodded to him, and hoped he understood that things were good between us.
He nodded back and walked off.
Mona got out and came up front. She shut the door and leaned toward me, biting her lip hard.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
“I’m okay,” I said. “That went better than expected.”
“We should go find out how all the others did,” she said.
I nodded. “But first, I have to make a call.” I put the car in gear and drove for a little while, weaving through the city, until I parked again near my father’s house. There were a lot of cars on his block, and I saw Roberto standing out front, guarding the entrance. I guessed a lot of the crews were done and reporting in already.
I took out my phone and dialed.
Diego answered on the third ring.
“Yeah?” he said.
“Diego, it’s me,” I said. “We made our move.”
Silence from him for a full five seconds. “And?” he asked.
“Santos is dead,” I said. “Killed him myself. I’m not sure how the others did, but I think we cut the head off the snake.”
“Goddamn,” he said, his voice full of whispered awe. “I didn’t expect this.”
“They blew up my fucking house,” I said. “That’s not something I can forgive.”
“What now?” he asked.
“Now you bring your crew down here and start making money. And Diego, if you’re fucking smart, we can have a long and healthy relationship.”
“That’s the plan,” he said. “See you soon then.”
“See you soon.” I hung up the phone.
Mona leaned toward me and reached out. Her hand seemed to hang in the air as she brushed her fingers against my cheek. I grabbed her wrist and pulled her closer, kissing her like I’d never tasted her before.
“Fuck,” she whispered. “I was so scared. Do you have any idea how scared I was?”
“I can guess,” I said. “But it’s over now.”
“Is it always like this?” she asked. “Are you always so afraid?”
“No,” I said. “No, only when shit goes really bad. But I think things are going to turn around now.”
“Yeah.” She took a deep breath. “I think you’re right.”
I stared into her eyes, into her gorgeous, dark eyes, and kissed her again. I tasted her lips, breathed in her scent, gripped her hair. She pulled back with a sigh and stared into my eyes.
“I don’t want you to go,” I said. “I don’t want you to go back to your old life.”
“I don’t want you to go back to New York.”
“You know I love you, right?” I asked. “I won’t leave if you don’t want me to. Someone else can run my crew.”
“Vince,” she whispered, eyes wide.
“I mean it,” I said. “I’ll give it up for you, if you ask. After all this, I know what’s important, I know what I really want.”
“I can’t ask anything from you,” she said. “I wouldn’t let myself.”
“Do it anyway.” I leaned close, pressed my forehead against hers. She let out a little groan and I kissed her, gentle and fast. “Ask it of me.”
“Stay,” she whispered.
“Okay.” I kissed her. “I love you.”
“I love you too.”
We stayed like that for a long moment, feeling each other. I listened to her quick breaths and felt my world shift beneath me, but I wanted it, I needed it. I’d been drifting loose and unmoored, lost in a sea of violence and depravity, but I finally found the island I’d been searching for.
I found my Mona, in a sea of nothing but anger and fear.
“Come on,” I said, kissed her one more time, and moved away. “Let’s go inside. We’ll figure out what we’re going to do tomorrow, okay?”
“Okay,” she said. “Yeah, we’ll figure it all out tomorrow.”
I opened the door and got out. I went around the car, helped her out. I grabbed the sack of money and the laptop from the back seat. And together, we walked to my father’s front door.
Roberto dipped his head and let us walk in together, holding hands, bodies close, feeling more alive than I’d ever felt before.
I had my Mona, I had my future. I wasn’t just some mafioso with no reason to live aside from money and chasing women. I had a reason for existence, I had my girl, I had my love.
For the first time, it was easy to look ahead, easy to think about the future.
25
Mona
Three Months Later
I typed THE END and stared at my screen for a long time. I felt like I’d been waiting for this moment my whole life, and now that it was here, now that the words had left my fingers and were down on the page, smattered in black screen ink, I felt like…
Well, like nothing.
I leaned back in my chair and took a deep breath. I heard the floorboards down the hall creak and I knew it was Vince waking up and trying to be quiet. We were sequestered in a small apartment in the far end of his father’s expansive mansion, our own little set of rooms tucked away from the rest of the house.
It wasn’t as opulent as the rest of the place. The floors were original bare wood, the walls were freshly painted in beiges and simple whites. The decorations were minimal, those still expensive. We had a kitchen, a little living room, a single bedroom, and an office tucked up in the attic, a sweltering little cubbyhole with a window AC unit that dripped water on the outside of the house and was way too loud.
I hit save, backed the file up to my Dropbox, and closed the lid of my computer. It was just before six in the morning and I’d been up writing for almost an hour already, trying to get my words in for the day before Vince woke up. The room wasn’t too steamy, not yet at least. I stood up and stretched, my fingertips brushing the low ceiling. A little couch was pressed up against the wall a few feet away opposite a simple stereo system, and I’d spent a lot of time over the last few months lying on that couch, listening to music, trying to get my thoughts in order.
Three months we’d been hiding away in our little apartment. Three months of writing, editing, revising, trying to get the story just right.
It felt like an impossible task. I had to tell the world what happened as honestly as I could, but I also couldn’t reveal the identities of the men involved. It was a tightrope act, and I’d written and rewritten and bashed my head against the wall, until finally, finally, I was finished.
I heard more creaking floorboards. Vince would be in the kitchen at this point, brewing us both some coffee and cooking breakfast. I smiled a little to myself and hesitated, looking back at my little brown desk with its ratty black rolling chair. I’d spent so long sitting at that desk, working hard in that chair, and now it was done.
It was almost bittersweet.
But no, really, it was just sweet as hell.
I turned and left the little attic. I took the narrows, steep steps down to the first floor, walked past our small bedroom, past the little bathroom, and down another flight of stairs.
Vince turned and raised a spatula in surprise. He was shirtless, his tan and muscular body tense and worked hard, rippling with muscles and veins, and he wore just a pair of short black shorts. He probably planned on going for a run soon.
“Morning,” he said. “You’re down early.”
“I finished.”
He
blinked and lowered the spatula. “You’re kidding.”
“I’m not kidding,” I said. “I think it’s finally right. I mean, I’ll have to make some tweaks, and maybe adjust the ending, and maybe change a name or two again, I don’t know, but—”
He walked over, swooped me up into his arms, and hugged me tight. I laughed, kissed him, hugged him back.
“We have to celebrate,” he said. “Dinner tonight. Best restaurant in the city. What do you say?”
“You’re acting like we don’t do that all the time.”
“But this time we’ll spoil you first. Spa day, get you nice and pampered, buy you whatever you want, and then go to dinner.” He beamed at me and the pure excitement in his eyes sent butterflies rolling around in my stomach.
“Okay,” I said, smiling like I’d never really smiled before, and kissed his gorgeous lips. “If you insist.”
“I’m really happy for you,” he said. “I know you’ve been working hard at that thing for a while, and I can’t imagine it’s been easy.”
“Far from easy,” I said.
He let me down, kissed my cheek, returned to the stove. I could smell the eggs cooking in the pan, a nice little sizzle in the air. I followed him into the kitchen and hopped up onto the counter, scooching back a bit as he chopped and worked the scrambled eggs.
“But you did it,” he said. “Seriously, that’s so amazing. Do you know what you’re going to do now?”
“I’m not sure,” I said.
“Come on,” he said, looking back at me. “Yes, you do.”
“Okay, fine,” I said. “I’m going to submit it to Randy at the Inquirer, and when he tells me it’s absurd and total shit and they can’t print it, then I’ll—”
He brandished the spatula at me again. “Stop that,” he said. “Stop second-guessing yourself. You did something amazing here, just own it.”
I laughed and let out a breath, forcing myself to relax. “You haven’t even read it.”
“No, I haven’t,” he said. “But I don’t need to.”
I watched him finish the eggs. He divided them up between two small plates, added ketchup to mine, and slid them over. I looked at them for a second and felt my stomach rumble, though I wasn’t sure if it was hunger or nerves.
This was the part I’d been dreading for so long.
“But you, uh, you should read it,” I said.
He crossed his arms over his chest and tilted his head. “Why’s that?”
“You need to make sure it doesn’t cross any lines,” I said. “You know, about your, uh, your identities and stuff. I don’t want to piss your dad off, even though he knows I’m working on it.”
“I’m sure he’d want to read it over,” Vince said.
“He can, if you think that would help.”
He shook his head and stared into my eyes. “No,” he said. “No, I don’t want him to read it. And I don’t want to read it, not until it’s in print.”
“Why not?” I asked, feeling a little desperate surge rush through me.
“Because I trust you,” he said. “It’s not that I don’t want to read your work. Believe me, I really do.” He walked over to me and spread my legs. I wrapped them around his waist as he leaned closer. “But I want you to know that I trust you more than that.”
“I know you do,” I said. “You’ve proven it enough already.”
“This is the last thing,” he said. “The most important thing. This is why we got together in the first place. I want you to know that I trust you completely, and if you choose to publish a story that fucks up my family and makes a lot of trouble for us, then so be it, that was your choice. But I trust you not to do that.”
I bite my lip and nod a little. “I don’t want to mess anything up,” I said. “So maybe… maybe you can read it, just to make sure, you know, that I didn’t screw it up.”
He laughed and shook his head. “That would defeat the purpose.”
“How about your dad then?”
“He’ll make you change half the damn thing.”
“Okay,” I said, throwing my hands up. “Dante then. He’ll be honest.”
Vince frowned a little and blinked, tilting his head to the side like he was seriously considering it.
“That’s not a bad idea,” he said.
“Wait, really? I just threw that out there because I’m annoyed. I don’t think Dante wants to get involved.”
“Dante is perfect,” he said. “He’ll be honest. And things have gotten better between us lately. This might be what we need.”
I chewed my cheek and shifted side to side then threw up my hands.
“Fuck it,” I said.
“Perfect.” He beamed at me and put both his hands on my cheeks, pressing them together. He kissed me big and bold and made a loud smooching sound.
“Yuck,” I said when he let me go.
He laughed and walked over to where his phone sat on the counter. He picked it up and dashed off a text.
“There,” he said. “Now go email it to him.”
“He didn’t even agree to do it yet,” I said.
“Yeah, but he will.”
“Fine.” I hopped off the counter, but didn’t move. Vince turned to look at me, and I stared into his eyes. “Are you sure about this?”
“I’m sure,” he said. “I love you, Mona. If this is what you want, then it’s what I want, too.”
I lingered there in the kitchen with him, and wondered how I got so lucky.
Three months ago, I never would have imagined I’d end up here, living with Vince in this little apartment in his father’s mansion. I knew I loved him then, but I didn’t know where things would lead us, not with a war going on, not with all the chaos.
But after that night, after the night where he killed Santos and hit the rest of the Jalisco safehouses, things settled down for a while. The Gulf cartel moved in and took over a lot of the Jalisco shipping routes.
And best of all, one of Don Leone’s tech guys, one of the younger soldiers, found a treasure trove of information on Santos’s laptop. He found logs of sales to gangs all over the country, lists of safehouses, lists of informants and soldiers, payroll for all those hired thugs, and even detailed routes they used to bring drugs up from the south. With all that information, the Gulf cartel was slowly dismantling everything the Jalisco built up north and taking over their trafficking routes.
Which left me in limbo with Vince. I kept expecting him to go back to New York, but he kept making excuses, until we stopping talking about it all together. His second-in-command ran the show up there, and by all accounts he was doing well. Vince floated from crew to crew in Philly, helping where he could, rebuilding old relationships, establishing himself again as one of the best Capos in the entire family.
Somehow, things worked between us. He did his job, and I sat up in my sweaty little hot box attic room and I did mine. He came home, fucked me wild and nasty and deep and good, and went about his business the next day. We clicked, and our love deepened, but it always felt like we were just waiting for something, waiting for the end to come around.
This article felt like the end of it all.
“I need to know something,” I said.
“What’s that?” he asked.
“New York.”
He watched me for a few seconds. “What about it?”
“Are you ever going back?” I asked. “I mean, it’s your crew up there, right? Are you ever going to go back to them?”
He took a deep breath and let it out then smiled a sad, quiet smile and shook his head.
“No,” he said. “I don’t think so. Not unless you want to move there.”
“Vince,” I said. “I can’t ask you to give that up for me.”
“You don’t have to,” he said.
“Vince—”
“Listen to me,” he said, taking a step closer. “That crew meant a lot to me. I built it up myself, but now it’s beyond everything I could’ve imagined. They don’t need m
e anymore, and I’m okay with that. Ambrose can handle things from here. I don’t need to go back there, because the work is already done. But there’s so much to do here.”
“Like what?” I asked.
“Like be with you,” he said. “Like build a life with you. And somebody has to take over the family when my father passes, which will happen one day. I want to be that man, and there’s no way I could do it from New York. That’s obvious to me now.”
I nodded slowly. “You want to… make a life with me. And take over the family.”
“That’s the goal,” he said, coming closer. He put one hand on the small of my back, the other on my stomach. “Put a few babies in here.”
I swatted his hand away. “Not just yet,” I said.
“We’ll have some fun first,” he said, then kissed my neck, my cheek, my lips. “I promise, little Mona, you’re all mine. I’m not going anywhere.”
“Good,” I said and relief hit me, flooded over me. I pressed myself against his skin and held him tight, and realized that I’d been holding this in for months now. Maybe it was why I’d taken so long to write the article. Maybe I was scared that if I finished, he’d leave me forever.
But he’s not going anywhere.
“When that article gets published, we’ll find somewhere else to live,” he said. “A place of our own. I was just waiting for you to be done before we talked about it.”
“Really?” I asked. “I thought you liked it here.”
He rolled his eyes and I laughed.
“Come on,” he said and slapped my ass. “Go email Dante. When you’re done, we’ll spend the day together.”
“Yeah, okay,” I said, kissed him again, then walked off. I looked back at him for a second and he was smiling, a content smile, like he’d found a piece of himself and put it back into his chest.
I climbed the steps and felt the exact same way.
26
Mona
Two Years Later
I stood in the street, fifty feet from a burning building, and could feel the glare of its heat on my skin. A crowd stood around as firefighters worked to put the abandoned warehouse out, making sure the fire didn’t spread to the buildings around it. I made a few notes on my phone and looked around for someone to interview.