“Keep going,” I say when he stops.
Talent takes a deep breath and continues, “My parents met when they were eighteen or nineteen when my dad was in college with a prelaw major. The Coppolas still held their meeting at Lando’s sandwich shop, but things were starting to change after crackdowns in New York, Jersey, and Philadelphia. Upper ranks were arrested, and the dismantling of organized crime by the government started.”
“That’s not entirely true,” I say.
Talent shakes his head. “No, they went underground and changed the way they do business. They’re not meeting in the basements of sandwich shops anymore.”
And then it dawns on me. “They’re meeting in their lawyer’s office.”
“Yes,” he answers in a regretful tone. His eyes return to me, soft gray and pleading for me to understand. “Ridge & Sons is a silent associate for the Coppola crime family. Nothing official, so we’re not tied to them should they be infiltrated in any way, but we handle the ins and outs of their legal business ventures and help cover up the rest.”
“Racketeering,” I say, and he nods. “How did I end up in your office?”
He presses his lips together before saying, “Phillip was one of the few people who knew about our work with Giovanni. When he got wrapped up in the drug charges, he agreed to gather information to tie us to the Coppolas. He wanted to set me up. Phillip talked Naomi into it, but Inez sent you instead and fucked their plans up. Giovanni has moles in the FBI and learned what Phillip was up to right away. Phillip must have found out and went on the run. Gio and the FBI have been looking for him ever since, but we found him first.”
“Did he get anything on you?” I ask.
“Nothing,” Talent says through the dark. “But now you know, I am just like you.”
My mind is crowded with conflicting emotions, half-understanding and half-disappointed. Until the moment Talent dipped me back during our dance, I was under the impression I had the opportunity for an ordinary life with him. Now I know the entire story, and any thoughts of a normal life mock me.
It was too good to be true.
Talent isn’t in the mob, but he may as well be.
“I wasn’t going to keep this from you. I planned to come clean,” he whispers.
“When?” I ask in a sharp voice.
“Tonight,” he says. “I wanted to show you this part of my life, and then I was going to tell you everything. None of that was supposed to happen, Lydia. Do you think I would have put you in that situation had I known?”
Our limousine comes to a slow stop in front of my apartment complex, but neither one of us moves to get out. Crushed again by hope, I shouldn’t be surprised by how sad I am. This is the reason why I’ve preferred a life without expectation. Talent bulldozed his way into my routine and my heart, and now look at us.
“Can I come in?” Talent asks with his hand on the door.
“What if I say no?” I ask, barefoot and grieving.
A small smile curves the corner of his mouth, and he says, “I’d sleep outside your window.”
He drapes one arm over my shoulders and carries my shoes in his other hand. We walk the concrete pathway to my apartment in heavy silence. The front door opens with a crack, and the smell of blown-out candles lingers in the dark living room, welcoming us home. The contrast between how I felt when I left and how I feel now is jarring, but Talent continues to be a beacon of light alongside my shadowy nature.
Jammed between thick sorrow and the burning love I hold for Talent Ridge lingers cool deliverance. As fucked-up as tonight turned out to be, I release the burden and sigh in relief.
Going back isn’t an option. I’ll never sell my body again.
But I also won’t be Talent’s biggest mistake.
He was right. We are the same.
Born into lives we didn’t ask for, we’re neither good nor bad. We’ve taken what was given to us and we’ve made the most out of it.
I’m a tramp, and he’s a criminal.
Maybe fate isn’t as cruel as I thought. It brought us together, after all.
He starts the bath and helps me out of my dress, considering me with curious eyes and gentle touches. We sink into the warm water and wash away our sins like a fucked-up baptismal for the indecent. I sit between Talent’s legs with my back toward him and bring my knees to my chest, resting the side of my face on top of them.
“Don’t keep anything from me again, Talent,” I say.
Resting his arm over the side of the bathtub, he says, “That’s all there is.”
Looking over my shoulder, I ask, “What did Giovanni mean when he said to tell Inez he’s ready to talk when she is?”
“I don’t know,” Talent answers. He sits up straight and the bathwater moves in waves around our bodies. “As far as I know, Hush operates without interference from the Coppolas.”
“That’s not normal, right?” I know little about the inner workings of the mafia within Grand Haven, but Giovanni said it himself tonight. Nothing goes on in his territory without his knowledge. A few Hush girls have been known to serve members of the mob, but as far as I know, Inez is exempt from their control. Why?
“It’s not typical, but it happens,” Talent says, dripping water from the tips of his fingers down my spine. “The sex trade generates huge money. If Giovanni isn’t getting a cut from her operation, there’s a good reason. She’s never talked to you about it?”
Leaning back against his chest, the ends of my hair float on the surface as the water washes over my collarbone. I close my eyes as Talent’s arms encircle me, keeping me whole. “Never.”
“Lydia, wake up,” Camilla whispers. “Inez is on the phone. She wants to talk to you.”
Blinking against a dreamless sleep, my eyes focus to find Camilla standing beside my bed with the phone to her ear.
“I’m sorry, but she says it’s an emergency,” Camilla says in a voice as quiet as a secret.
I lean over to turn on my lamp, illuminating my room in a soft yellow glow. Camilla holds the cell phone out for me to take and stands back in her nightshirt and bare legs. Her gold eyes sweep over Talent’s sleeping form beside me, unsure if she should stay or go.
“Tesora, can you hear me, sweetheart?” Inez says on the other end of the phone.
Sitting up in bed, I shake Talent awake. I haven’t heard from Inez in weeks, and now she’s calling me in the middle of the night. Something isn’t right.
“I can hear you,” I say warily.
“I’m sorry to call you at this hour, but I need you to come over,” she commands. “The sooner the better.”
Talent hears Inez and kicks his legs over the side of the bed. He reaches for a shirt and pulls it over his head before grabbing his cell phone from the nightstand. Opening the home screen, he searches for a number and presses call. When his eyes meet mine, he says, “Wilder, I need to borrow your car.”
“We’re on our way,” I tell Inez, passing the phone back to Camilla.
Wilder shows up at our door twenty minutes later dressed in a pair of black sweats and a plain white T-shirt. He has sleep lines pressed into the side of his face, and he still smells like bourbon. No signs that he witnessed a killing tonight.