She rolls her eyes at me and shakes her head. “The man has been like it since we were kids.”
“Really?”
“Hmmm hmm, granted I will admit to giving him cause to worry and yes there have been an occasion or two where I needed to be saved, but he can be totally over the top, especially with our kids. But… me aside, I do genuinely want to talk to you about how you are. And please, this isn’t about work. Are you really okay?”
No. I’m not okay. I don’t think I’ll ever be but I’m trying…
That’s what I want to say but I can’t.
“Yeah. I am.”
“I hope you don’t think I’m overstepping or crossing a line by sticking my nose where it doesn’t belong. Please feel free to tell me to fuck off if I am. I just recognize when people look troubled. You did when we met, and I sensed you’d been through something.”
My cheeks flush and I blink unable to keep my nerves steady. “I went through a bad spell. But I’m trying to sort things out,” I decide to tell her.
She gives me a little smile. “Well, I’m here if you need to talk. I mean that.”
“Thank you. It’s nice to have someone to talk to.” Even if I can’t tell her everything.
I’m not stupid and neither is she. She takes care of the girls at the club and I get the feeling she knows what to look out for with the troubled.
“Did you sign up for your audition?” she asks changing the subject, subtly.
I welcome the subject change but I’m surprised she remembers. I mentioned it in my interview.
“Yes, I’m looking forward to it. It’s been awhile. I hope I get the chance. It would be perfect because all their shows are done in Chicago.”
“Well from what I hear they’d be missing out if they don’t pick you, so I hope they do. I admire you for following your dreams and getting back out there after your moms’ death.”
That was what I told her, what I told everyone. No one who doesn’t know needs to know Mom died before I left the stage. She took her last breath believing I was married to a man who would take care of me. Thank God she never knew how that turned out.
“Yes, it’s been hard,” I agree.
We start talking about our lives and I almost feel at ease. Talking however, reminds me of how much tiptoeing I have to do around the truth. Living in Colombia is something I don’t really want anyone knowing. When I left, I shed Miguel’s name and that life.
I just have to stay focused to get over this hurdle and then I’ll be where I want to be.
I pick Rosie up a few hours later and we play on the swings in the park.
I always try to play with her. I know it must be disruptive to her sleep and surroundings to stay over with Jenny.
“Mama, can we get ice cream?” Rosie says kicking her little legs on the swing.
I still place her in the baby swings. She’s just at that in between stage but still a little too small for the bigger swings.
I smile at her. I can’t get the fancy ice cream she likes just yet. I’m keeping to a strict budget. However, the convenient store around the corner does some cool chocolate popsicles the owner makes herself. Rosie likes those.
“We can get some chocicles,” I suggest and she gives me a look of uncertainty that makes me laugh.
“I don’t know Mama, those don’t taste that nice,” she wrinkles her cute little nose. Her eyes sparkle in the sunlight and inside them I see Miguel again.
“Okay, how about we get marshmallows and I can make us some hot chocolate,” I suggest and her little face lights up.
“Yes, please Mama, I would love that.”
I bend down to pick her up and that’s when I get a prickling sensation run down my spine, like someone’s watching me. I straighten and look behind me, but there’s no one there.
We’re alone in the little park and there isn’t anyone walking on the street.
I scan over the apartment block, looking to see if anyone’s watching through the windows.
There’s no one. Not on the balconies either.
God… Am I being paranoid?
Maybe it’s Brent, or Lev sent someone to scare me.
I wouldn’t put it past either of them to watch me playing with my child. Lying in wait to get me.
I hoped that having Rosie around would deter him. Most men don’t go for single moms, and I don’t know any who would offer up sex right in front of a child the way Brent did.
I don’t want to see that asshole again. The things he said still run through my mind with the warning to move the hell out as soon as I can.
I pick Rosie up, deciding to head straight up to our apartment and improvise on the hot chocolate.
The door closes when we walk through, but the feeling comes back to me and I turn just in time to see a man with a hooded sweatshirt walk down the alleyway. He glances back at me before he turns the corner. I can’t see his face, but I know he’s not Brent. Brent is taller and bigger in body and muscle.
That man was definitely watching me.
Who was he?
Chapter Twelve
Christian
I got a location.
A warehouse that’s supposedly abandoned near Little Hell. Sure, from the broken glass on the windows, age old graffiti on the walls, and the vines growing all over it, the place looks like it hasn’t been used in decades. But it’s fucking in use alright. I give Falcone credit for his attempts to make it look like it wasn’t and keep his shit under wraps.
Exercising the tech genius in me I was able to use the phone number to get an email address that linked me with an IP address.
I’m the only person in the family who can do shit like that. Salvatore comes in a close second, then our younger cousin Patrick, who’s just finished college. Unlike the two of them, I hold a double honors degree from Yale in accounting and computer science, and I never had to break my neck to get it. I’ve barely had to study a day in my life much to the annoyance of many given my playboy nature.
It’s times like these though that I’m grateful for my skills.
My men and I arrived five minutes ago, and we’ve got the place surrounded. I brought Kirk and five of our best guys with me as back up. Kirk is right next to me. We’re concealed behind a thicket of trees. From here I can see through one of the broken glasses. There are a bunch of men at computers and some milling about the place. None look like threats. They have the average warehouse staff presence like some of the guys who work for us.
Time to get some answers.
“Let’s move,” I say giving the signal.
On my word the men move with me and rush in with me when I kick the door in.
There’s a guard to my left who opens fire. I send two bullets straight to his head and he drops.
My men flank two of the other guards, while Kirk and I take down four more.
The workers start scrambling trying to escape but we stop them.
The lack of more security suggests Falcone never expected this place to be found. He only had about ten guards here and not even five minutes and me and mine took them all out.
“Line those fuckers up,” I call out pacing with my gun outstretched.
Looking over the men here I see I was right. They’re just average, but fuckers none the less. Guilty as fuck by association.