by Hamel, B. B.
It was strange, how places like this could exist, with so much space and comfort, while a half hour away in the city, people struggled to find enough blankets to keep from freezing to death in January. This house could’ve kept a hundred people warm or more during those months and saved the lives of half the homeless population in the entire city, and yet none of it mattered, this place was another world.
The back door opened suddenly and I opened my eyes. The mug of tea was on the ground, the tea itself spilled in a long pool. I coughed once and realized I was drooling. I wiped it away with my sleeve quickly as Don Valentino walked down the grass shading his eyes toward me. I looked up at the sky and realized I must’ve fallen asleep, possibly for hours.
He stood and looked at me for a full five seconds before he sat down on the lounger next to me. I blinked rapidly, trying to get myself together. I hadn’t meant to fall asleep, but I’d been on edge and exhausted ever since I was nearly killed by Ronan.
“Bea told me you were out here,” he said, not looking at me. “You know, I have no clue who put that giraffe thing in the pool.”
“Oh,” I said, and then, “I can head back into the city if I’m bothering you, Don Valentino.”
“No, no, stay,” he said. “And call me Dean, please.” He closed his eyes and sighed slowly. “I get that Don Valentino shit all day long. I almost forget what my own name is. Of course, my wife Mags reminds me.”
“You’re married?” I asked.
He laughed softly. “I’m married,” he said. “Started out as a political thing, but you know how life goes.” He glanced at me, squinting a little. “How’s Cam doing?”
“Fine,” I said. “I’m not sure. I haven’t seen him yet today.”
“I hear you had some problems.”
I shrugged a little. “Nothing he can’t handle,” I said, not wanting to go into that whole thing, not without Cam here to lead things. I didn’t know what he wanted me to say and what I should avoid, so I chose to skip the topic entirely.
“That’s true,” Dean said and gazed out at the water again. “He’s one of my more promising soldiers. Hell, I should make him a Capo already, for all he’s done.”
“I didn’t want him to join the family,” I said, the words coming out before I could stop them. I didn’t know what the hell I was thinking, blurting that out, but Dean only laughed.
“Why not?” he asked.
“I thought he’d get killed.”
He touched his cheek. “It’s entirely possible,” he said. “It happens. Not as often as you might think, but it happens.”
“I wanted him to stay with me,” I said, looking down at my hands. “We knew each other growing up.”
“I understand there’s a complicated story there.”
“Not exactly,” I said, not looking at him. “I had shitty parents. He had shitty parents. We hated them. End of story.”
He laughed again and I smiled at him. Outside of his office, away from the trappings of the Don, he seemed like a regular guy. He was big and handsome, and his suit probably cost more money than I’d seen in the last two years, but I liked his laugh and his smile seemed genuine. And I liked that he asked me to call him Dean.
“You’d be surprised how many people in the mafia have that same story,” he said. “You don’t turn to this life if you had a normal upbringing.”
“What about you?” I asked. “You probably had it pretty good out here.”
“You’d think,” he said, but didn’t elaborate.
We sat in silence for a few minutes. I didn’t know what he wanted from me, but as I relaxed back into the chair, I got the sense that he only wanted to come outside and get a break from whatever was happening in the house. He had some kind of lunch meeting, and maybe more meetings after that, and I could imagine it was exhausting and stressful running a powerful crime family.
“Can I ask you something?” I said suddenly.
He made an uncertain gesture with his hands. “Depends. No family secrets.”
“No,” I said. “Just something about Cam.”
“Go ahead,” he said.
“Does he matter to you?”
The question surprised him. His eyes went wide and he tilted his head, lips pulling down into a frown as he shifted to face me. “I’m not sure what you mean,” he said.
“Cam’s life, does it matter to you? Would you throw him way if it benefitted you or the family?”
He took a deep breath and slowly let it out. His confusion turned to a strange, uncertain darkness, his eyes narrowed and his lips pressed flat.
“I’ll be honest with you, since it took some guts to ask me that,” he said. “Yes, his life matters to me, but I’d sacrifice any of my men for the good of the family. But I’d fight like hell before putting myself in that position first.”
I nodded slowly. “Okay then,” I said. “I believe you.”
“Good,” he said, sitting back again. “Not that I give a damn whether you do or not.”
I laughed a little and he grinned but didn’t look at me.
“I think you should make him Capo,” I said, feeling bold. “He’s a good man and he deserves it. I know he’ll work hard for you.”
“I thought you didn’t want him joining my family.”
“He already did.” I dug my fingers into my thigh then relaxed them again. There was nothing I could do about Cam anymore, and it was time to accept that this was what he wanted. I couldn’t change him, and if I was going to be around him, I had to accept what he’d become.
Just like he had to accept what I was.
“I’m considering it,” Dean said.
“Cam’s a good person. He’s smart, he’s strong. I think you should give him whatever promotion you can.”
He laughed and swung his legs off the lounger. “You’re an odd one, you know that?” he said. “I’ll tell you what. If Cam kills Ronan, then I’ll give him control of a big piece of territory. I’ll make him a Capo, and hell, you can be his lieutenant if you want. Or his wife, depending on how things are going.” He cocked his head and smirked. “You are sleeping with him, aren’t you?”
My cheeks turned bright pink. “None of your business,” I said harshly.
He stood up, still grinning big. “You’re right, it’s not,” he said. “But you should be sleeping with him. That man’s a catch, and you’re, what, some street girl from his past?”
I let out a sharp breath through my nose. “Here I was starting to think you were nice.”
He lingered at the edge of the pool and looked back at me. “Don’t mistake me,” he said. “I’m not a nice man, but I can be a fair one. And you are a street girl, whether you like that or not. Cam’s good for you. I think it’s time to let go of whatever you’re holding on to.”
“You don’t know me,” I said. “You have no clue what I’m holding on to.”
He shrugged and made a gesture as if to say, none of that matters.
“Good luck,” he said as he headed back to the house. “Tell Cam what I said. Get Ronan, get rich.”
I watched the Don go and clenched my fists. That had almost been a pleasant conversation, at least until the end.
He was right and I hated him for it. Cam was good for me—even if I still harbored a grudge for what had happened, I knew that a big piece of that was my own fault.
It was my stubborn pride that made me turn my back on him when he chose to join the family.
But it was hard to give that piece of me up. It was hard to forget all that time spent on the street, wondering where my next meal was coming from, and carrying that anger deep inside, that simmering hate. I learned to steal and to survive, but I never let go of my grudge, at least until Cam showed back up in my life with a flash, bringing death with him.
I wanted him to succeed, and I wanted Ronan dead.
Maybe it didn’t matter what I felt. I could help Cam and sort out the rest later.
14
Cam
Irene sat low
in the passenger side of my sedan as we cruised through North Philly toward Kensington. The houses in this part of the city were rundown, some of them abandoned and overgrown with weeds. Various gangs owned these streets, though the Healy family was behind a lot of their power. The Valentinos had little pockets of control, but not enough to make a strong claim on any corners.
I glanced over at Irene as she stared out the window. I bet she stayed in this part of the city a lot these past couple years. It was the neighborhood that time forgot, the poorest part of the city where cops rarely bothered to roam and the blocks looked after themselves as much as they could. Half the street lights were broken out and somehow the moon and stars seemed brighter around here. The night enveloped North Philly in a way it didn’t in the rest of the city, and it felt like we were in another world.
“It’s a shame, what happened here,” Irene said softly, looking up at a row home with a big gothic peak in the front. Some of the buildings were truly gorgeous, though in disrepair. Folks around here couldn’t afford the upkeep that hundred-year-old decorations demanded, and the city didn’t give a damn about them anyway.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“Just the way all the jobs left and now look at it.” She gestured around and shrugged. “Lots of good people live in this place, you know. Not their fault there isn’t any money.”
“I know,” I said softly, then leaned over the steering wheel. “I think that’s the place.”
Ahead at the end of the block was a row home standing along with a street on its right and a trash-strewn lot on its left. The door was painted blue, which was exactly what Sasha told us to look out for.
Sasha was one of the names Kira gave us before leaving town. Sasha seemed interested in my plan and said she’d be willing to help—if we helped her first.
I passed the house, went around the block, and parked midway down the street. I spotted two other cars I recognized. “Linc and Franco are in position,” I said.
“Are you sure about this?” Irene asked. “The last time we went to a meeting with one of Kira’s girls, it ended in an ambush.”
I grunted and shook my head. I wasn’t sure at all, but I couldn’t tell her that. Fact was, I had a plan, but I needed at least one girl to turn and help us, and I hoped that would be Sasha. She seemed interested, eager almost, and I liked that she wasn’t shy about asking for something right away, as if she’d been waiting for someone to approach her like this.
“We’re going in anyway,” I said, killing the engine. “You know your part?”
“Stay here and keep quiet,” she said, sliding down further. “I can handle that.”
“Good. Keep the doors locked.” I stepped out of the car, fingering the gun shoved into my waistband. “It’s a bad neighborhood, after all.” I gave her a wolfish grin, shut the door, and walked down the block.
Figures stepped out of the other cars. Linc in his black jeans and black shirt, and Franco and Alvaro, both of them loading their guns. I met up with the group and we hurried into the abandoned lot beside the house, crouching down next to a pile of burned and half-melted tires.
“We need the girl alive,” I said softly. “Just Sasha. Nobody else.”
“What if more want to come?” Linc asked.
“Doesn’t matter,” I said. “We can’t trust any of them.”
“We can trust this girl?” Franco asked.
I exchanged looks with Linc. He helped set this up, and he knew as well as I did that nobody could be trusted.
“You two take the back,” I told Franco and Alvaro, ignoring his question, which was answer enough. “We’ll go in the front.”
Franco grunted in response and moved with Alvaro shadowing him. The guys moved fast toward the house’s back yard and I waited for them to get into position.
“You got Irene in the car?” Linc asked.
I nodded. “I need someone who can talk to the girl.”
“Smart,” he said. “Dangerous though.”
“She’s safe,” I said. “She knows that if she hears gunshots and we’re not back soon, she’ll drive the hell out of here and head to the Don’s house.”
Linc peered out over the tires. “They’re ready. Let’s move.”
I darted out from behind the tires and headed to the front of the house. The windows were blocked with blinds and curtains but light bled out from between them. I heard shouts, then a loud bang, and I guessed Franco and Alvaro were shoving their way in through the back.
I went to slam my shoulder against the front door—but stopped and tried the knob first. It opened without a problem and I glanced back at Linc, grinning at him as I kicked the door open.
I stepped into a smoky living room with my gun raised. Half-dressed girls lounged with men smoking cigars on the couch. They had drinks in their hands, and porn played on TV, a big guy with massive muscles ramming into some little girl in a skirt and pigtails. “Any of you move and you’re fucking dead,” I said, walking toward the group. “Hands up right now, get them up in the air.”
The girls complied right away. The guys hesitated. One was big, round shoulders, huge gut. The other had his hair cut almost straight to the scalp and had zig-zag patterns cut along his temples.
Alvaro came from the back with two girls in front of him, both of them topless. Franco followed with his gun to a guy’s temple.
I moved closer to the couch.
“Hands up now,” I said.
“You’re in the wrong place,” the big guy said, showing teeth. “You dumb asshole.”
“I’m here for someone,” I said. “Doesn’t need to be ugly.”
“Gonna be,” Zig-zag said. “Gonna be if you keep waving that gun around.”
“Hands up. I won’t ask again.” I stared at them for a long beat.
Zig-zag lunged for the coffee table. A handgun lay next to a giant bottle of beer. I shot him in the shoulder, then again in the head, and Linc put two in the big guy’s chest. His blood spurted out and covered the girls to either side of him, and both scrambled away screaming.
Franco put his guy down with a shot to his skull. The man crumpled and hit with a dull thud.
I grabbed one of the girls trying to get away by her hair. She screamed and kicked at me, but I held her away as Linc went and checked the stairs.
“Sasha,” I said. “Looking for a girl named Sasha.”
The girl swatted at my hand. “Let me go, motherfucker,” she said. “Sasha’s upstairs, you asshole. You killed them, oh, fuck, I’m going to get beaten for this.”
I let her go and headed to the stairs. I gave Alvaro a look. “Cover them,” I said.
Linc was already climbing up. It was quiet in the hallway and hot as hell. The house didn’t have air conditioning, and the humidity sat above the wood floor like fog. I checked the first room and found two girls crouched behind a bed, terrified. “Sasha?” I asked.
One pointed next door. I saluted her with the gun and went to the next room.
I kicked the door open and entered, gun raised, only to find a girl sitting at the end of her bed wearing sweatpants and a sweatshirt with a bag on her shoulder. She had dark brown hair swept over one shoulder and big, round cheeks. Her full lips were painted red, and her big blue eyes stared with me with a vicious smile. She was pretty, though in a rough way, and not even remotely my type.
“Took you long enough,” she said, standing up. She was taller than I would’ve guessed, close to six feet. “Did you kill anyone?”
“Three guys downstairs,” I said, frowning at her. The room was nice with a big, comfortable bed, a little desk with a laptop, and a neat nightstand. The walls were covered with old boy band posters that were faded and ripped at the edges. “Are you Sasha?” I asked.
“Of course,” she said and stepped toward me. “You’re getting me out of here.” She extended a hand and I reluctantly shook.
“Cam,” I said, bewildered.
She grinned. “Let’s go, Cam. You know all these girl
s are gonna get beaten for this, right?”
“Not my problem,” I said, and led Sasha into the hallway. Linc came behind us, frowning at me, and I only shrugged.
We descended the steps. The girls were huddled in the kitchen, away from the corpses. Alvaro stood near them while Franco watched the front door.
“Let’s go,” I said. “Leave the girls.”
Alvaro followed with Franco bringing up the rear. Linc cleared the street, then I hurried Sasha back to my car while the others disappeared into the night. I hustled her into the back seat, then got behind the wheel and peeled out. The last I saw of that cat house was a single girl standing in the doorway screaming curses out into the night.
Irene blinked at me rapidly then looked back at Sasha. “Uh, hey,” Irene said. “My name’s Irene.”
“Sasha,” she said, extending her hand.
Irene gave me a look and shook it. “Did everything go okay in there?” Irene asked.
“Went fine,” I said. “Killed three guys.”
“The girls are going to get beaten for that,” Sasha said again.
“Still not my problem,” I said through clenched teeth.
Irene gave me a sharp look. “We didn’t mean for that to happen,” she said. “Is there anything we can do?”
“Nope,” Sasha said, sounding chipper. “Just figured you should know. If he’d just yelled for me, I would’ve come down and nobody had to get hurt.”
“The guy with the design in his hair went for a gun,” I said. “Didn’t give me much choice.”
“Oh, Marcus,” she said. “He’s an idiot. Probably better than he’s dead.” She rolled her eyes.