In the Red

by Lisa Libby

  “Ava really has ya believin’ she is innocent; damn my girl is good. Johnny, she was the brains behind this entire launderin’. She was you and Susan’s puppet master.”

  “What? I know for a fact she had nothing to do with this, she’s lying to you, Jimmy.”

  Jimmy grabs me by the collar of my shirt pushing his nose into mine so our eyes of level

  “What are ya tryin’ to say? I don’t have time to talk with ya all day, I need to find my daughtah before someone else does. Call me as soon as ya hear from her, I know she’s goin’ to call ya. Ya know she’s pretty upset about ya baby on the way.”

  He pushes his fist into my neck still holding the neck of my shirt crumbled in his hand. His force almost knocks me to the ground.

  Before I can react, he’s in his car, backing out of the parking lot. I wondered how Ava found out about the pregnancy. She was pissed, sending angry text messages a few days ago and wouldn’t return any of my calls or messages. I guess she found out then.

  Jimmy has never liked me or my family, I think it’s because of my Italian heritage. He would never want a mutt like me dating his daughter. He still believes in the old way: Irish marry Irish, Italian marry Italian and so on. I can’t believe that bitch Ava lied to me. She never mentioned her father. The Mob must know Jimmy is her father, but did they know when she was hired at Atlantic? I don’t recall him having children. I’ll have to discuss this with my father.

  I try calling Ava again from the number she texted from. Still no answer. I light another cigarette and lean against my car thinking about where Ava could have gone. I’m so lost in thought I smoke the cigarette to the filter, burning my inner lips. The same thought keeps playing over and over in my mind. All Casey’s dreams are coming true now that she is finally pregnant, but my nightmares have just begun. If Ava is truly Jimmy’s daughter, the blame will shift from Ava to Susan and me. There is no way the Mob would prosecute the daughter of Jimmy Coonan. The Coonans are deep rooted in Mob history, no Coonan has gone to jail longer than a few months. I need to find Ava, now.

  AVA

  CHAPTER 26

  Dirty South

  I don’t waste time in NYC. I board a bus to New Orleans to meet up with Ruben; not the best time to visit, but I need his resources. An expense-free, safe place to lie low until the trial. Ruben thinks I’m taking a flight. I don’t want him to know I’m saving the money he gave me for a plane ticket to cover my lawyer’s fees. I don’t feel comfortable telling Ruben about my problems because I really like him. It might scare him off if he knows everything.

  The plan is to stop and get luggage, new clothes, rent a motel room, just to shower and clean up before meeting him. He insisted on picking me up at the airport or sending a car, but I convince him it’s easier for me to just catch a cab. He’s getting a hotel room for us, rather than have me at his home, so I assume he’s married. It doesn’t bother me and anyway I’d rather stay at a hotel, I’ll feel more comfortable.

  The bus ride is long and uncomfortable. I’m feeling nauseous and throwing up everything I eat. I either need to pin the blame on Susan or Johnny, and of course not before getting the Mob’s approval. That’s the tricky part, getting the Mob on my side. While I’m still upset with Johnny, I don’t want him to go to jail, and it’s not because he’s having a baby. It’s because I selfishly want him to myself. If Casey thinks this baby is going to stop me from continuing our relationship, she’s dead wrong. If anything, the baby, stress and responsibility will only push Johnny further into my arms. Johnny has told me on several occasions he doesn’t want a family with her, but maybe he would want one with me.

  Without Paul, I don’t know if I can pull off my plan. If Paul will ever talk to me again. I’ll have him hack Atlantic and alter their accounting books – this will be leverage against the Mob. Not only will this prevent me from going to jail, but it will also prove to them they can’t fuck with any Coonan and get away with it. My family has built a reputation for themselves, and I won’t be the one to tear it down. This is no longer only about saving myself from serving jail time but keeping my family name creditable. With all the research and information Paul has sent me regarding my family, it’s no wonder my mother insisted I keep her last name. If the Mob knew about me, then the Mob’s enemies would know about me. This puts a permanent target on my back. Seems funny that all these years I lived such a simple life, until my mother’s murder. I wouldn’t say I’ve been in any real trouble. However, if my mother was still around, she could dig up some troubling stories from my childhood.

  When I’m with my father, I feel like no one will try to or can hurt me. If the FBI agent Connor knew I was a Coonan that day in the interview, he wouldn’t have had me come in. I enjoy the way Connor treated me when he found out who I was. It’s as though I can have whatever I want. There is a mandated level of respect for my father. Once everyone knows who I am, everything will change. Even so, I know I can’t testify against Claire and can never mention the Mob’s association. Paul will have his work cut out for him because he needs to hack the Mob’s lawyers and the FBI, but before that can happen, I need Mr. Alterman’s lawyer to trust my plan. If I get truly desperate, I can admit to the Mob that I have been skimming off the top of Atlantic Financials’ profits and the Italians, but will they believe that money I stole wasn’t from their personal funds? They may not like the fact that I was going into business for myself. Only Paul has proof and he would never expose me. Deep in my gut I feel Paul will come back into my life. If he doesn’t get in touch with me soon, I’ll have no choice but to find another hacker. I worry that the Italians discovered our skimming scheme and made him disappear.

  From the first day of my internship, my plan was to steal from Atlantic by copying the hard drives of executives, lawyers, and Susan and Johnny’s computers. It was easy for them to trust me and hand over access to the shared drive. I was free labor, and they loved handing over work they couldn’t be bothered doing. I was a good intern, always completing jobs in a timely manner and taking the initiative to ask for new projects, all while Paul sat at home on his computer remotely downloading confidential financial information. I’d play dumb and ask stupid questions, so everyone would think I didn’t know what I was doing. That allowed them to trust me alone in their offices and even let me use their computers. Paul would put viruses on my computer, and I would log into someone’s computer in the office to transfer the files. The only connection I didn’t know of was that Johnny and Susan were working for the Mob. There was no way I could have known.

  We’d later discover the Mafia owns Atlantic Financial –Paul uncovered that when he did a search and backtracked every executive’s family tree and linked the Mafia to just about everyone working at Atlantic. I gave too much credit to Susan and Johnny when it came to the money laundering. I couldn’t figure out how and where all the money was flowing into the company. When Johnny finally told me, several light bulbs began lighting up, like a string of Christmas tree lights.

  I’m still worried the Mob will think I was stealing their direct funds from them. Paul wasn’t the slightest fazed when we first found out it was the Mafia we were skimming funds from not Atlantic. He’s sometimes too confident for his own good, but that’s Paul. He gets off on uncovering secrets and being in dangerous situations. Like the time he discovered my father was a hitman for the Mob. It didn’t stop there because Paul dug up files to uncover the lengthy history of the Coonan name. Rumor has it that my grandfather, Mr. Coonan, began his Mob career here in Massachusetts and expanded business throughout New England, New York, Philadelphia, Chicago and Canada. There is so much more history of the Coonans that cannot be found in any newspaper or FBI file. Only stories told between mobsters who care to carry on the legacy. Not many rats can blab to the cops before being a murder victim. Even if they get the chance, they wouldn’t give up all they know to the FBI.

  The bus ride feels like it is taking forever.
I sit next to the back exit in case I need to make a quick getaway. I check my email account every ten minutes looking for a response from Paul. Then I spot thirty emails in my drafts folder. I click on the draft folder and read the first email addressed to me, from Sherry, my alias. I didn’t write the email, so who the hell did? I click on the next draft email and the next, the emails are all identical. The email reads:

  Dear Ava,

  I’m still incredibly upset with your behavior that night. You put me in harm’s way and could’ve destroyed all we worked for. At first, I was conflicted with the information about Thomas, but I know I’ll never know the truth about what happened to Thomas because even if you did kill him, you would never admit to it. I’ve had a lot of time to think about us and with that in mind, I’ve decided to give you your share from the Atlantic scheme. However, after that transaction I don’t want anything to do with you.

  Burn in hell,

  Sherry

  I look through all the emails and delete the draft folder and then empty the trash folder. It’s Paul; I’m so excited to hear from him. He’s brilliant, and I’m relieved that at least he sent a response to my many emails, but also frightened that he has agreed to still give me my share. Paul is smarter than me, so I must be cautious. I have plenty of reasons for concern. He knows too much and could easily hand me to the FBI, and I would be lucky if I ever got out of jail. If I’ve learned anything from Paul, it’s you can never be too paranoid.

  I respond to Paul by the same method, with a draft email.

  Dear Sherry,

  I’ll gladly burn in hell if you’ll join me. Johnny took care of the situation, no one will ever know. I know you don’t believe me, but I didn’t kill Thomas. I wish I could prove it somehow.

  Thank you for keeping your end of the deal. I’m only accepting it because I’m in a lot of trouble. Someone tried to drown me in Boston Harbor and my roommate has been murdered. It gets worse, the doctors told me I’m pregnant. It’s likely to be his. You know who I’m speaking of.

  I miss you dearly and hope you are safe and okay.

  Love always,

  Ava

  It hits me right then. I have no home to return to after seeing my roommate’s lifeless body in my house. The second death in that house is enough for me. Luckily, the doctors are witnesses that I was in the hospital at the time of her murder. By the look of her body and the smell, she was dead for at least three days before I got there.

  I decide to power down my computer to save the battery and take a nap to recharge my own battery. I’ll check the draft emails again later. If it is deleted, I know Paul has read the email. Before I doze into a heavy sleep, I start to wonder how much Paul is watching what I search on my computer. Paul is my friend; no matter how angry he is, he could never do anything to harm me. Could he?

  JOHNNY

  CHAPTER 27

  Snakes and Rats

  My knuckles are white from gripping the steering wheel too tight on the drive to my parents. I will pull all my resources to find Ava. She knows I love her, but she keeps pushing me away. We have our problems, but I thought our love would fix them. I must always prove my love and she is constantly testing my loyalty. I lie to her about Casey, but that’s just because I don’t want to hurt her. I’m in love with both Casey and Ava. It’s a shitty situation, but I can’t choose. Casey is loyal and a part of my family, and now she’s pregnant, how could I ever leave her side? And Ava, she is the bad girl that every man fantasizes about. She doesn’t care what others think, with her criminal mind – and the sex is something I could never turn down. She’s wild in bed and pleasures me more than Casey. In an ideal world, I want to keep a relationship with both women. Not under the same roof kind of shit. They would kill each other. This fantasy life in my head is all great, but I know it will end with me possibly losing both women. I’m not a one-woman man. Casey is wrong if she thinks I will change because of a baby. Women who think like this are delusional.

  It’s difficult to keep tabs on Ava. In the beginning, she was easy to track; either she’s getting smarter or she has help. With the news that Casey is pregnant, Ava has more reason to turn on me and blow the heat in my direction. If this happens, I’ll get my father to put pressure on the Mob to keep me out of jail. With my child’s birth approaching, jail is not the place I want to be. My parents raised me with some values, and I won’t neglect my own. I may not be a good boyfriend or even a good future husband, but I’ll be a good father. I’m not a deadbeat dad like Ava’s father, Jimmy.

  When I tell my father Ava is Jimmy’s daughter, his look of intrigue changes to worry, and this frightens me. I rarely see this side of my father; usually he’s wearing his poker face. My father doesn’t like to show emotion, he claims this leaves him vulnerable. I guess in his line of work, dealing with criminals and phony politicians have made him expressionless. I value his opinion when it comes to the Mob because he’s been part of that world since he first learned to walk.

  “You better find Ava. That’s your one job, don’t keep screwing up,” my father says in his typical disappointed tone.

  “Don’t ya think I know that. How am I gonna find her?”

  “I’ll dig into the new-found information about Jimmy being Ava’s father. What’s the last number she called you from?” says my father with a pen in his hand waiting for the number.

  “Here.” I give him Ava’s last known phone number.

  If anyone can find her, he can. He was the one who’s been tracking her cellphone all along. She’s been smashing phones and gluing the backs thinking that would work. She thinks she has it all figured out, but she can be a naïve bitch. Even though it’s become increasingly challenging to keep track of her whereabouts, for the most part, I’ve known where she’s been this entire time, until now. I even know about her eventful weekend at the casino with Ruben. I wasn’t angry because I knew she was just trying to distract herself and get over me, but it didn’t work. She was back in my arms as soon as she returned to Boston.

  My father is writing something down. “Here’s a list of places to check and who to contact when we get there. Don’t skip any of these locations.”

  I call my boys to send them on a scavenger hunt. They’ll check the airport, bus, train station and rental car locations. I doubt she’s in Boston, Jimmy would have found her by now.

  “You have to go tell her in person the news about Jimmy being Ava’s father.”

  “What, why? That fucking bitch is crazy. She scares the shit out of me.”

  “I won’t repeat myself. GO!”

  My father never raises his voice. This is frightening and I better listen to his orders.

  I drive to Dorchester, one of the more dangerous parts of Boston, to inform Claire what has come about. It is my job to keep tabs on Ava and I’ve failed again.

  I find out Claire is having dinner in the North End. It’s not dinner for eating, but a meeting to collect debts and make business transactions. I arrive at the restaurant and am told by the twins, Claire’s doormen, that I’ll have to wait. I smoke a cigarette, pacing the sidewalk, glancing up at the twins every so often looking for them to let me inside. The twins are tall, muscular, redheaded with large crooked noses. They used to play hockey in college hoping to go to play for the NHL, but were too clumsy on the ice, but great at fighting when time came to take off the gloves on the ice.

  I’m let into the restaurant and led into the back-kitchen area. I walk in to find a makeshift torture chamber, plastic draped around the kitchen, covering the floor and countertops. There are human limbs on the kitchen counters, pools of blood puddling on the floor. Claire is standing behind a bloodied empty chair wearing a full body white disposable painter’s jumpsuit and goggles. What’s in her hands startles me. It’s a small child’s head with no body attached. I throw up in my mouth and force myself to swallow. I’ve never seen nothing like it; I mean, sure I’v
e seen plenty of dead bodies, but never a child. Whose child is this and what could this person have done to deserve such pain brought into their lives? I can’t peel my eyes off the bloodied teddy bear. I can’t help but think about Casey and our unborn child. What am I walking in on?

  Claire places the child’s head on the kitchen counter and strolls towards me while peeling off the bloodied gloves and goggles.

  “The Italians should never cross us and will pay what they owe us, or we will continue to murder their bastard children,” she spits. She places the head in a box. “Deliver it to their father Piezo,” she barks the orders into midair. “Throw the mother’s body in the harbor along with the child’s limbs. NOW,” she screeches.

  She cocks her head sideways, “Johnny, honey what are you doing here?” She touches my face.

  I jerk away from her hands.

  “I….” I freeze; the words won’t come out.

  “Let’s get out of this room and sit and have a drink to talk.” She guides me to the front of the restaurant.

  I sit in the closest booth to the kitchen. She peels off her blood-stained disposable jumpsuit, rubber gloves and goggles, dropping them in a pile on the floor. Her face has splatters of blood, everywhere but where her googles covered her eyes and face. She sits with a smile.

  Two pints of beer are slid in front of us.

  I get straight to the point. “Ava is Jimmy’s daughter?”

  She doesn’t answer me right away.

  “NO!”

  “Well, yes, yes she is”

  There is silence, she’s deep in thought staring into the beer glass.