In the Red

by Lisa Libby

  “Ava, this is Claire Spillane… She is in charge of the Irish Business Association that Susan holds a membership with,” explains Terry.

  “Terry, the girl knows I’m the Mob boss, save your nonsense explanation for someone else,” says Claire in a humorous tone.

  She finally speaks to me. “Ava Madden… Your last name is familiar to that of a close family friend. Is your father from Boston?”

  “I never met my father.”

  “How can you be so certain?”

  “I think I would remember meeting my father.”

  “Do you remember the first day you were born?”

  “No, of course not.”

  “So, how can you be so certain?”

  “I don’t remember meeting my father, so no, I can’t be certain.”

  She’s trying to get under my skin.

  “Ah, much better. I assume Johnny has run off at the mouth and filled you in on our situation, who we are, and what we do here.”

  “Yes.”

  “Then you understand what you need to do for us.”

  “I do, but I have a request, if I may… I would like to look over the accounting books the FBI is using in the case against Susan. I think it would benefit the case if I could understand how the FBI caught Susan. Perhaps it would help to explain a few accounting mishaps.

  “Ava ... how can you be certain there was an error and it wasn’t just an enemy trying to take us down?”

  She doesn’t let me answer her question and continues talking.

  “We don’t need your help in that way, we need you to say what we tell you to say while you are testifying. Let me be clear; we are demanding your help, or we will make you and everyone you know vanish, poof, into thin air.”

  She stands up, takes off her sunglasses and pushes her way between the two lawyers. Leaning on the table, she stares me in the eyes.

  “I’m insulted that you think we don’t have the means to handle Atlantic, the IRS and FBI. For you to think we’ll depend on a fucking intern. You are a special kind of stupid, aren’t you?”

  I can feel the tension in the room shift and the air thicken.

  I stand up and lean on the table, so our eyes are at the same level.

  “I’m not a fucking intern, Susan hired me.”

  She cocks her head to the side, like an animal does before they attack their prey.

  I take a deep breath. “I apologize, I didn’t mean to offend your business practices. I will cooperate, you have my word.”

  “The lawyers will be in touch; you are free to leave.” She signals me to leave by waving her hand as if to push me out of the room like I’m a stray dog begging for her to feed me.

  I walk out and exhale like I’ve been holding my breath under water.

  This meeting proves my mother wasn’t lying and everything is starting to make sense. My anxiety is higher than ever before. I’m continuing with my own plans of protecting myself. I won’t be able to do this alone, so I’ll need to ask a few favors along the way.

  When Johnny and I get in the car, he’s acting anxious and asking too many questions, not waiting for me to answer one before interrupting with another.

  “Johnny, relax. I agreed to their request, all set.”

  “Good, good. How ‘bout some lunch, my treat?”

  “I have a lot of stuff to do, laundry, groceries, that type of stuff,” I lie.

  “Oh, alright then, we’ll drop ya at home.”

  I obviously don’t want Johnny to know what I’m up to. I’m really going to visit my ex-boyfriend, Mac. I sent him a text late last night and told him I was in trouble and needed his help. He agreed to leave work to meet me at his apartment. I’m hoping to guilt trip him into a large cash loan, to pay for illegal items and services, cash only transactions. I would refinance my condo, but it takes too long to process, plus the FBI may find it suspicious. My accounts aren’t frozen, but I’m sure they’re being scrutinized. If I take out a large loan, they’ll know something is up. I have plenty of money on my credit cards, but criminals don’t exactly accept credit cards, plus it would just leave a trail back to me.

  We pull up to my house. Johnny leans in to hug me and I awkwardly tense my body. He never hugs me; this is new.

  “I’ll be ova later.”

  “Johnny, I don’t know if I feel like company tonight. Call me first.”

  This is strange behavior; I can’t tell if he’s hitting on me or was told to keep an eye on me.

  I get to Mac’s apartment earlier than he’s expecting me, so I smoke the rest of my joint from this morning. It helps with my nerves and clears my mind. He still hasn’t arrived, so I sit in the lobby of his apartment building waiting. He lives in a brand-new luxury mid-rise building. I know the building amenities and layout of the apartments from the many nights spent stalking him and his new girlfriend. I’m exhausted, so I close my eyes just for a moment.

  “Ava … Ava.”

  I’m woken by Mac shaking me by my shoulders. I must’ve fallen asleep.

  “I’m sorry, that’s embarrassing.”

  I give him a hug. We exchange small talk on the way to the elevator.

  “You look great, Ava.”

  His eyes look me up and down. It’s uncomfortable.

  “Thank you, you do as well. How do you like this building?”

  “It’s okay for now.”

  I follow him into his apartment, even though I already know what apartment number is his. I’m paranoid that people are following me, so I look around before entering. I don’t want Mac pulled into my mess. Even though our breakup was messy, I still love him very much. He’s the only man I’ve ever loved besides my stepfather.

  We enter his home – it’s enormous, bright and spotless. The decor has a modern feel. The colors are various tones of beige, brown and gray. He grabs me a glass of wine and we sit awkwardly across from each other in the living room. He smiles at me through each sip of wine. I mirror his behavior and facial expressions.

  “Why are you all dressed up? Is today a special occasion?”

  “I had an interview,” I lie.

  “You look great.”

  I catch him admiring my legs.

  “Where was the interview?”

  “With Liberty Financial.”

  The lies continue.

  “Oh, a great company, I hope you get it.”

  Sitting in his apartment is making me self-conscious. I’m jealous of his girlfriend and the amazing, spotless apartment they share.

  I decide to get to the point. “Listen, I don’t want to take more of your time than I need. Can I borrow $50,000?”

  He looks stunned.

  “Ava, that’s a lot of money; is everything okay.”

  “No, not really, I need to hire lawyers and a private investigator.”

  I fill him in on the Atlantic situation. I don’t go into detail, but I let him know Atlantic is being investigated and shut down, so he knows the seriousness of my situation.

  “Ava… that’s terrible. I’m so sorry to hear about it. I can get you the money by tomorrow afternoon.”

  That was too easy, I’m sure he’s being overly nice because he feels guilty for breaking my heart.

  “Do you need a recommendation for a lawyer?”

  I lie again, “No, I already have someone in mind. I’ll pay you back as soon as I can.”

  “Don’t worry about it. I’m just glad I can help.”

  He seductively looks me up and down, from my legs up to my chest.

  “Would you like another glass of wine?”

  “Sure.”

  I walk around the room checking out the artwork, while he fetches more wine. I can’t help but peek at their open mail on the dining room table. Looks like they’re trying to have a baby, and by the letters and docto
rs’ bills, it looks like they’re unlucky bastards.

  I wish he wanted me again, but I know he would probably only want sex, never a relationship. It would still be nice to be able to make Mac’s girlfriend jealous. She’d know how it feels to wait up for him at night wondering if he’s really working overtime. Pretending to be sleeping when he arrives late. Hearing the shower run, knowing he’s washing off the smell of sex.

  “So, are you seeing anyone now?”

  I freeze.

  It’s as though he’s read my mind.

  “There’s someone I like, but he’s in a relationship.”

  “Oh, do I know him?”

  He points to himself, thinking I’m talking about him.

  “No,” I tease him, knowing I’m making all this up.

  He motions me to the terrace for a smoke. The panoramic view of the Charles River and the city skyline as the backdrop is stunning.

  “Have you had lunch?” he asks.

  “Nope.”

  “Let’s go eat; I know a great place a few blocks from here.”

  We reach the Charles River Hotel. I wonder if lunch is code for sex, but apparently, it’s not because we walk straight to the restaurant and grab seats at the bar instead of a room key from the check-in counter. I can’t help feeling giddy inside. I pretend we are on a date like old times. All the reasons I first fell in love with him are flooding back. His confidence, wide smile, fit body, dark brown neatly parted hair, clean-shaven face and that charm. What’s different about these feelings is I wouldn’t want to be back in a relationship. He’s proved that he’s no good. I can forgive the cheating, but the abandonment of our relationship will never allow me to forgive. I believe a choice is never a mistake. Right now, I want to enjoy my freedom. I’m free to do whatever the fuck I want. But I could do with some sex. Perhaps this lunch will lead to a spontaneous night of sex if we rent a room at the hotel. Maybe it’s all in my head, but I feel like he’s coming onto me. If he wants to have sex with me, all he has do is ask. I no longer want to be the good girl Mac once dated. I mean, I just met the Irish Mob boss; that’s badass. I can’t shake the comment she made about my father – maybe I did meet my real father. Perhaps all the digging into my mother’s past was the wrong hole to dig. I have my father’s name; he may be able to piece together the information and help shed light on who would want my mother dead. I’ll need Paul’s help finding him, but I must start looking right away.

  My phone vibrates in my pocket, breaking my train of thought. It’s Johnny calling.

  “I gotta take this, I’ll be right back,” I say to Mac, heading outside.

  “Hey, Johnny.”

  “Checking on ya.”

  “Oh, why is that? Is that your new job, to keep track of me?”

  “You pick up on bullshit quick, don’t ya.”

  “Heck, yeah.”

  “I’m gonna come ova if that’s okay.”

  I think about it for a moment. I’m curious, he has my attention.

  “Why?”

  He’s silent.

  “Cause… I need a drink.”

  What an idiot, he’s so obvious.

  “Ok, sure. Can you pick me up at the Charles River Hotel?”

  “Ok, be there in twenty.”

  It won’t hurt to make Mac a little jealous. Maybe it will make him want me.

  I head back to the table.

  “I’m sorry, I have to leave.”

  He leans in close to my ear and whispers, “I want you.”

  I melt right there, smiling back at him. His hand is now under my shirt, running up my back. He used to do this all the time when we were dating.

  I push his hand away.

  “Well, you know my number, call me, and perhaps we can make that happen.”

  “I thought for sure you would smack me for even suggesting it.”

  He grabs the back of my head and pulls me in for a kiss. His tongue is cold as I remember and glides around my tongue. I’m turned on and don’t want it to end.

  My phone beeps with a text from Johnny; he’s outside. I hug Mac goodbye and tell him to call me tomorrow when he has the money.

  JIMMY

  CHAPTER 3

  Home

  I didn’t need a reason to return to Beantown but hearing the news that my daughter’s been asked to testify for the Irish, I’m scared for her safety. When I heard someone was digging around trying to find me, it was either the Pigs or Italians. One of my enemies may know that Ava is my daughter. Anyone with this information could manipulate me. Sure, it was possible Mary, her adoptive mother told her about me, maybe even gave my name and my role with the Irish Mob. I just wonder what things she’s told Ava. I warned Mary when Ava was just a baby, to never speak my name or say anything about the Irish Mob. Mary’s empathy, love and her belief in God was stronger than I anticipated. She knew Ava would be at risk and could be killed by any of my enemies if they found out about Ava. Mary was aware of our agreement and the terms of the adoption, but she didn’t take my advice.

  I admire Mary for wanting Ava to know her biological family, but to sacrifice her own life was foolish. Nice people make stupid mistakes, they’re easy prey for any killer. What could Ava want with me, a relationship? Or is she in a heap of shit? If she’s anything like me, she’s in trouble.

  Returning to Boston after almost twenty years is the strangest feeling. The City looks the same, except for a few new landscape changes, new high-rise buildings, and the Zakim Bridge, a large white cable-stayed bridge that lights up blue at night. A nice additional to the city skyline. Various underground tunnels have replaced the dark green metal stacked highway roads. It’s easy to get lost in the highway’s underground tunnels if you don’t pay attention. Ending up in the wrong lane can cause anyone to be spit out on an entirely new direction and highway. The Big Dig, the largest and most expensive construction project in the world, turned into the longest running political scam in Boston history. Many of my criminal pals were killed contributing to funneling money through the construction project. Many friends that worked those construction jobs are serving time for getting busted dealing drugs to other construction workers. There’re rumors that there’s an uncounted amount of bodies buried deep under the cement foundation holding up the bridge.

  Besides the Boston skyline changing, the same family names run the same neighborhoods. The cops, politicians and the media will make you think they’re making headway decreasing crime, but they’re paid to cover up homicides, drug deals gone wrong and filthy politicians using mobsters’ contributions to win elections. The Irish spend most of their profits and resources on controlling the local media, and the politicians do the same to keep crime out of the news. They want Boston to seem like a safe place to visit, raise a family and open a business. Crime flows underground, like the traffic in the tunnels. Boston hides the horrible congested traffic under the city, so the rich don’t see it from their high-rise condos.

  I’ve always compared organized crime to rivers because rivers never stop flowing and the water is ever changing. This is how the criminal world runs: the water in the river is the money, a constant flow. The debris and trash gathered on the riverbanks disturb the wildlife and changes the flow of the river. The same goes for the organized crime world, constantly changing its atmosphere when a mobster dies or is imprisoned. If there is too much debris, the river will back up and the water flow will slow down. Cops will put the criminals in jail, temporarily stopping the flow of money. People who think they’ll change the world may change the course and lives of some, but the change is really just an exchange. For every bad guy locked up or murdered, they’re replaced before the jail doors slam shut. Cops are heroes for many, but when it comes to organized crime, they’re wasting their time, and the smart cops know this, so what do you think they do? They become the dirty cops. They want a piece of the action.

/>   It was my freedom to choose to work with the Irish as a hitman. My father didn’t force me, but I was never given another choice. My family ran the Irish Mob in Boston for decades, so it was natural for me to continue my father’s legacy. My first hit was at thirteen years old. A bible was the first object I used for a murder weapon. The victim was an easy target. I broke into his home to find him kneeling by his bedside during prayer. His facial expression told me he was expecting death. I jumped on the bed above him, yanked the bible from his hands and beat him in the head, over and over. He fell backwards, hitting his head on the floor and knocking himself unconscious. I didn’t know how to tell he was dead, so I didn’t stop hitting him with the Bible until his face was no longer recognizable. I gripped the book so tight for so long that my hands and wrists became numb. Against my father’s advice to never take anything from the dead, I couldn’t help but take the man’s rosary beads as a souvenir. The next day at school, my hands were so sore it hurt just to hold a pencil.

  The Mob never told me why I had to kill him. All I know is they pinned my first killing on the manager of a bank who wouldn’t collaborate with them. The banker was charged a life sentence but was paroled after fifteen years. No one would give him a job, so he sold weed to make money. Someone killed him six months after he got out of jail. He was found sitting in his idling car at a liquor store parking lot with a knife sticking out of his neck. I’ve never regretted my first killing or any of them after that and had no remorse for the man that served a jail term because of my doing. If I had empathy, I would’ve been dead already. A hitman must be able to turn their emotions on and off. It’s just a job that needs to get done.

  I left Boston when Ava was about four years old. It was clear Ava was in good hands with Mary; she treated Ava like her own daughter. I would spy on her and Ava at parks, out at the stores, and sometimes at night when she would lay her down to sleep. I never wanted to give my daughter up, but I loved her so much it scared me. My first plan was to stay in Ireland after her mother gave birth. Then Ava’s mother changed her mind about keeping her and wanted nothing to do with her. I wanted to stay in Ireland, find a small town and cottage to raise my daughter, but this was impossible. I would’ve been murdered by my boss had I not returned to my job has a hitman. Sadly, Ava would’ve faced the same fate, so I took her back to Boston. I believed that fate would help me figure out the next step.