by Lisa Libby
“Honey, you’re awake.” She grabbed my face and kissed my forehead.
“Mom, are you okay?”
“Of course I am, honey.”
“I thought you were dead.”
“I am.”
“What are you doing here?”
“Your father asked me to visit you and make sure you are okay. Ava, listen to your father, he really loves you.”
Then the drums came back, and the room was dark. Suddenly my mother was stabbed in the back by someone I didn’t recognize, her blood spraying all over me. She screamed my name, and I woke.
I feel so comforted that my mother visited me. I haven’t dreamed of her in so many years. Strange how she mentioned my father. She always spoke so badly of him, warning me to stay away from him. What she didn’t know is her continuing to tell me to stay away from him aroused my curiosity in finding him.
I hear a knock on the door and I immediately close my eyes. I’m not in the mood to talk about my second near-death experience of the year. I want to cry just thinking about my fear while in the ocean. I can’t talk about it because I will burst into tears. The door opens, and I hear unfamiliar voices. It’s just the nurse and doctor. I turn my head and slowly open my eyes.
“Ava, I am Dr. Sleeper,”
The nurse is already wrapping the blood pressure cuff around my arm.
“When can I leave?” I ask.
“Well, as soon as you are feeling better, I suppose,” he explains, looking at my chart. “However, I’m concerned about your blood pressure levels. They are high for someone your age and pregnant. I recommend a low dose of lisinopril and follow up with your primary care doctor in a months’ time. Also, check your blood pressure at home daily. It is possible, that this traumatic event has temporarily driven up your blood pressure. High blood pressure is dangerous for your pregnancy.”
“PREGNANT!” I say, grabbing my stomach.
“I’m sorry Ava, I thought you were aware. Don’t worry, after the blood work came back, we immediately did an ultrasound to make sure everything was okay. It all looks fine, from what we can see.”
He examines me and when he finishes up his notes, he says they will prepare me for discharge. The nurse grabs my belongings from the drawers and places them on the bed. She takes out my IV, suggests I take a shower and tells me lunch will be delivered soon.
Am I carrying Mac’s baby? I should’ve taken a morning after pill; it completely slipped my mind that night. Although, it could be Johnny’s since we hardly use protection. I don’t know if I could be a mother and adoption is not an option. I’ll likely get an abortion, but right now I have other pressing issues that concern me.
I’m feeling lonely sitting in this cold hospital room. The old Ava would have had a hospital room full of guests, flowers, balloons and someone to hold her hand when she woke. I wonder if anyone even knows I’m here. My cellphone is gone, I’ve no connection to others outside of this hospital room. I don’t even have a ride home. I sit on the toilet and feel bad for myself before finally taking a shower. In the shower I look over my body’s many bruises and rip off the gauze that wraps around my wrist. My cuts hurt under the shower water.
I just can’t keep it together anymore and let myself cry. I sit on the shower floor and grab my knees rocking myself back and forth. I ‘m giving up again, I’m tired of being chased. I just want to lose already. I think about admitting myself to a psychiatric hospital. Maybe that would keep me safe until the trial. I don’t need to communicate with the outside world anymore. Paul’s upset with me and has disappeared, Mr. Alterman wants nothing to do with me and Johnny’s started a family. I don’t trust my father or his followers. Even the FBI is on the Mob’s side.
I can’t narrow down who would want me killed. Atlantic was run by the Italians and the Irish were working with them, even though they won’t admit it. Why else would the Italians allow the Irish to launder money through Atlantic? Then there’s obviously the Mob, my father, and perhaps Jose’s goons are after revenge for his death. I can’t forget the two men who kidnapped me, but we know they were working with Atlantic. I can’t put my finger on the accent of the men that tried to drown me. It wasn’t a Boston accent. Similar to a New York, New Jersey or even Connecticut. Instead of trying to find the men who almost killed me, I should be focusing on the trial and how to stay alive for the next three weeks. I need to get home and get to my computer; it’s the safest way to try to get in touch with Paul. I will email him at the address the mysterious guy in the bar gave me.
I feel an urgency to get dressed and leave the hospital before the nurse returns, or the cops. I’m sure they want to question me about my ordeal and investigate what’s happened. I dress quickly and peek out the door and down the hall. All the nurses sitting at the nurse’s station are busy typing away on their computer, on the phone or talking with their patients. I decide to skip the elevator, I don’t want to bump into anyone that may be looking for me. I take the stairs down to the garage and walk out the emergency vehicle entrance. The closest subway is just a few blocks away. I speed walk to there, realizing I have no wallet with me. I sneak behind a paying customer going through the turnstile. I left my wallet in the bar bathroom the night I was taken. It’s probably in police custody along with my phone.
I sneak around the back of my house and crawl through an unlocked window, noticing immediately my house has been broken into. I run to my room and find it a mess. My safe’s been turned over but was probably too heavy for them to take with them to open later. I lie on the floor and try the combination a few times before it opens. I grab all its contents. I find my computer under the floorboards where I hid it last. I head to the back door but stop and investigate my roommate’s bedroom; the door is ajar. Something tells me not to enter the room. I feel something brush against the back of my leg. It’s just the cat, but it almost gives me a heart attack. I notice blood on the cat’s face and that’s when I decide to look in my roommate’s room. She’s laying on the bed bloodied. There’s a knife sticking out of her chest. I grab my mouth to stop myself from screaming and run out the back door. I almost forget to open the door, hitting my shoulder against the wall.
I run with my backpack through the back streets of Cambridge until I get to a subway station. There, I take the redline to the Amtrak station at South Station and buy the next two business class train tickets to New York City. It’s the most frequent destination from Boston. The trains operate every hour. I buy two seats for myself, because I don’t want anyone sitting next to me. I order fast food to bring to eat on the train later. I buy all the local newspapers to see if my attempted drowning story is in the news or anything about the upcoming trial and grab a prepaid phone from the pharmacy.
I finally settle in my seat on the train, putting my belongings on the seat next to me. I have four and a half hours to figure out my next move before my train stops in New York City. My first email is to Paul. I’m hoping he gets back to me. The next email is to the lawyer Mr. Alterman set me up with. I email Mr. Alterman even though he may not want to talk to me. I feel that not all is lost with our relationship. Then I text Johnny from my new phone.
I write, it’s me Ava, please don’t give anyone this number and don’t let anyone know I have reached out to you. Call me when you get this text.
JIMMY
CHAPTER 24
Revenge
Waiting for my meal to arrive, Silver interrupts me. My men know better than to interrupt me during supper. It’s my favorite time of the day to eat; it’s when I eat the most. It better be an emergency, or he will get a punch in his noggin. The look on his face says that someone must be dead.
“It’s Ava, she’s in the hospital,” Silver says, handing me his cellphone.
“Jimmy, it’s Connor. Ava’s in the hospital, the doctors says she will be okay,” he explains.
“What the fuck happened?” I say. I clench m
y teeth and feel my heart pound out of my chest. My temper flares. I can’t hold in the anger; I slam my fist on top of the table.
“The coastguards found her nearly drowned in Boston Harbor. We don’t know how she got there but assume someone was trying to kill her. I haven’t spoken to her; the doctor has her sedated.”
I’ve heard enough, I hang up the phone. I can’t visit her at the hospital, the police and news reporters will have the place surrounded.
“Silver,” I scream, “Get the boss on the phone. We need the news station to be paid to never run the story.”
“Too late, boss.” He points to the TV above the bar.
“FUCK, Let’s go.”
I call the Indian and demand he meet me at my house. I tell him to bring the white man. We need all my people looking for the cocksuckers that tried to kill my daughter. I need to find, torture and kill everyone involved. I’m heading straight to see Claire. That bitch better have all the right answers. They targeted my daughter, and I am sure this must be about the trial. I thought I made myself clear, when I said she’s cooperating.
“Silver, drive.” I throw him the keys.
He’s driving fast and erratically, even running red lights.
“Are you trying to get us killed, asshole!” I yell.
“No boss, sorry boss,” he stutters.
Silver is a nervous, skinny Irish boy. His looks are deceiving, but he’s a featherweight retired boxer. He knows mixed martial arts and has a third-degree black belt. He wrestled in high school but was kicked out of school for fighting too much. Silver is my driver and I guess you could say sidekick. He won’t hesitate to kill you and prefers to do it with his hands. He always carries a gun, but you will seldom see him pull it out. He’s one ugly motherfucker. His nickname comes from his silver front tooth, not gold but silver. Most of his teeth are fake from all his fighting years and his nose is bent to the side. I don’t think he even knows how many times his nose has been broken.
“Do you know Johnny Cormick’s phone number?” I ask.
“Here’s my phone boss, I think his number is saved in there under Cormick.”
Johnny motherfucking Cormick. This bastard better answer his phone. It rings several times and goes to voicemail.
JOHNNY
CHAPTER 25
Mr. Coonan
My phone won’t stop vibrating. I’m getting calls from all sorts of numbers and even text messages. I‘m trying to ignore my phone, but I know something has gone terribly wrong. Casey is laying on the doctor’s table getting her first ultrasound. I’m kind of excited, but at the same time my mind is elsewhere. It’s with Ava. I haven’t spoken to her in over a week. I know she’s alive, because the Mob would be the first to announce her death. They would be pissed since their plan is to use her to take the heat off Susan. The trial is almost here, and I need to make it right with Ava. Casey interrupts my worries.
“Look, Johnny, can you believe this, that’s our baby, our baby,” she says excitedly.
I squint at a black and white static TV monitor. I have no idea what the hell I’m looking at, but I can hear the heartbeat. To me the sound is more impressive than the blob on the screen.
“Ya, honey, it’s great,” I say trying to match her enthusiasm.
“Hey Doc, can I get one of those machines to listen to the baby at home?” I ask.
“Oh, yes, I think you can get them at a department store or large pharmacy,” the doctor says, not looking at me.
I don’t like that the doctor didn’t look my way, I‘m offended and want to punch him in the back of the head. I don’t want this dickhead delivering my baby. My mood shifts to anger so quick I don’t feel it coming. I stand up and look out the window. Finally, the doctor wraps up with Casey.
“Hey Doc, can I have a word with you. PRIVATELY?”
From the corner of my eye, I see Casey’s head turn in my direction. She knows me too well; she can sense I’m annoyed.
“Sure, follow me to my office. Casey, make an appointment to see me in six weeks,” he says, motioning me to follow him out the door.
We get to his office. He offers me a seat.
“This won’t take long. Ya know my family, my history, so I suggest ya give me the same respect ya give my family members,” I say, leaning in front of his desk, not breaking my glance.
“I don’t…”
“Save it Doc, next time I ask you a question, and you don’t answer me while making eye contact, I’m going to assume you don’t care about your own family,” I say, picking up his family photo off his desk.
“Johnny, I meant… I meant no disrespect, really,” he stutters.
“Well, fuck, it must be a misunderstanding,” I smile.
I pull out $10,000 cash and smack it down on his desk.
“I want my fiancé to get the best treatment and care; that should cover a few visits.” I leave the office before he can refuse the money or speak.
“What was that about?” Casey whispers to me in the elevator.
“Nothing, I just had to pay him, and it was cash so thought it would be strange to slap the receptionist with a stack of bills. Plus, the receptionist looks like a junky whore.”
Casey slaps my arm in disgust, but also laughs because she knows it’s true.
I drop her off at her mother’s, they have a shopping day planned and I must get to work. I listen to my voicemails – there are so many I don’t know who to call back first. Shockingly they all must do with Ava. I can’t believe someone tried to kill her; my blood is boiling. I must get to the hospital.
The hospital tells me she left without being discharged, so I look through my text messages to see if she has sent me a message. Yes, she has, I almost missed it because it’s from an unknown phone number. Probably a burner phone. Something scared her because she left without checking out.
I call her on the number she texted me, but it goes straight to a voicemail that is not yet set up.
I get to my car to find an older man leaning against it. At first, I don’t recognize him.
It’s Jimmy “The Coroner” Coonan. I haven’t seen him since I graduated high school. I remember not having a party to celebrate my graduation because we were at Mattie’s funeral. Mattie was Jimmy’s right-hand man.
When you bump into Jimmy, it’s no coincidence, he’s out to make a hit and you better hope it isn’t you. When Jimmy isn’t out making a hit, he is at the bar drinking like the fucking lush he is. I know he has never left the Mob, because no one does, but he did disappear from Boston for a long time.
“Jimmy, I haven’t seen you since Mattie’s funeral,” I say, shaking his hand.
His hand crushes mine, and he smiles, holding my hand longer than necessary. I bet he wishes it was my neck.
“That long, huh? Well ya still as ugly as I remembah ya. How’s ya fathah?” He lights a cigarette and gets comfortable leaning against the front bumper of my car.
“He’s good, business is good.”
I’m waiting for him to tell me the real reason why he is here.
“Have ya seen my daughtah, Ava?” he searches my face for answers.
A lump forms in my throat. Did he say daughter? I must be mistaken.
“Ya, daughter?”
“Ya, Ava, well, have ya seen her, boy?”
“I… I … didn’t know she was your daughter. No, no, of course I haven’t seen her. As soon as I heard what happened, I came straight here.”
“Ya seem shocked that she’s my daughtah. Why, what did she say about me?”
“Ava never mentioned that you … were her father.”
I’m frightened of this man. Had I known, I would have never gotten involved romantically.
“Let’s keep this between us, but ya need to go look for her now and bring her back here,” he barks the orders. “I never got to ask her wh
at happened, and the police want a statement. They’re getting impatient and startin’ to sniff around and ya know the more they sniff around the more it will cost us.”
“Do we have any information about who tried to kill Ava?”
“I have some ideas of my own, but no solid names. I went to Boston Harbor to shake down some boat owners. It smells like the Italians, real meatball and sauce kind of shit.”
“What the fuck is it with your problem with the Italians, ya stuck in the fuckin’ past. Ya know my mother’s Italian. Don’t start this war again, the city doesn’t need it, we have enough problems with outsiders trying to establish business in the city. The Italians are not a problem.”
“Touchy topic for ya huh, don’t forget who ya work with; the Irish. Ya know ya fathah wouldn’t have it any other way. I don’t know what ya and that Susan got ya self into, but ya made a damn mess for ya self trustin’ Ava,” explains Jimmy while shaking his head as if to say I told you so.
“Did I miss something? Are ya sayin she knew about what we were doing before the FBI raid?” I ask confused.