Chapter 13 Episode 13

I clear my throat. “I have a lot on my mind.” “Heavy is the head that wears the crown.” He plucks a pen from my desk and starts fiddling with it.“So what’s on your mind, kid?” Diego is the only person in the syndicate who is allowed to call me anything other than my name,“boss,” or, in most cases, “sir.” “The Irish have attacked the docks again.” “I heard. Sounds like Antonio’s got it under control though.” He points the pen at me. “A good leaderneeds to delegate.” “I am delegating. It still worries me.” “You should try to let that go for now,” he says. “It’s not a helpful thing to worry about. What else ison your mind?” “The incident at the school.” I wrinkle my nose. “Carmen wants me to apologize.” Diego waves a hand dismissively. “She doesn’t know what she’s talking about. A Belluci doesn’tapologize. Tell her to shove it.” He grins. “Next?” The next thing that comes to mind isn’t a thing at all but a person—an annoyingly persistent personwith a bad attitude. “I did an interview last week with a journalist from the Union and she’s been hounding Jenny for afollow-up interview ever since,” I tell him. “That should be the absolute least of my worries butthere’s something about this girl … Have you ever heard of Alexis Wright? Do you know if she hasinterviewed me before?” Since he is mostly retired, Diego reads a lot. He is the type who flicks through the paper everymorning over a cup of coffee with a pair of reading glasses perched on his nose. It is a strangejuxtaposition when you consider that twenty years prior, he was famous in organized crime circles forsavagely slashing the throats of his enemies. Diego still wants to be useful to me whenever he can, so even though his throat-slashing days areover, he consumes everything that gets written about me in the same way that Carmen does, except sheis looking at it through a business lens and he looks at it through a Mafia lens. “Alexis Wright …” Diego pauses to think, brow furrowed, but ultimately shakes his head. “No, neverheard of her, and I don’t think she’s interviewed you before.” This irritates me more. Why does it feel like I know her? And why can’t I get her off my mind? “Doing an interview might not be a bad idea,” Diego continues. “I’m surprised Carmen hasn’tsuggested that already.” “She has. I just don’t want to.” “It would do you good to seem a little more relatable after that mess at the school,” he argues. “And itwould get this reporter off your back. Two birds, one stone.” I know on some level that he’s right, but I can’t shake the feeling that I need to stay away from Alexis.My gut senses a threat with her; I just can’t figure out why. “Thanks for the advice, Diego.” “No problem at all, kid.” He salutes me and grins. “That’s what I’m here for.” I work late, still wrestling with my worries and doubts. I am just about to sign off for the night whenmy cell phone rings. Dom’s name flashes on the screen. I answer, expecting bad news. “Yes?” Dom clears his throat and gets straight to the point. “Victor Holt is dead.” Victor Holt was one of my account managers—he worked mainly for Belluci, Inc. but was anassociate on the mob side as well. He was a minor player, and I would be surprised to learn of hisdeath if he wasn’t the third lower-level associate of mine to die in the past few months. “How?” I ask, even though I already know what he’s going to say. “A tragic accident, it would seem,” Dom replies, just as I expected. “A gas pipe burst and set fire tohis house.” I run a hand through my hair, cursing. “I need you to get in touch with his family and make sure theyknow we will take care of them. Just don’t insinuate that this is anything other than an accident. I don’twant to cause any alarm.” Dom’s breath crackles through the receiver. “His family were in the house,” he replies. “Wife, twokids. They didn’t make it.” A lump forms at the back of my throat and I swallow it down. In my head, I can hear the distantwhoosh and crackling of flames. I didn’t know Victor or his family, but they didn’t deserve this. I think about the terror they must have experienced in their last minutes, the agony of realizing thatthere was no hope. These were people I am supposed to protect. I am quiet a beat too long. “Boss?” Dom asks. “Thank you, Dom.” I hang up and take a deep breath as I slide the phone back onto the desk. Inside, I am seething. I want to break things. I want to scream. The Irish are playing with me, trying tomake a goddamn fool out of me, and so far I have not been able to do anything about it. People aresuffering, and I can’t make it stop. I run a hand through my hair and relax my jaw. I am good at what I do because I don’t react like myfather did. I think. I strategize. I don’t let my emotions win. But for f**k’s sake, it is hard sometimes. It is a beautiful day. Long beams of sun s***h across the path in front of me as I push my son, Harry, inhis stroller, listening to the birds chatter in the leafy sycamore branches above. The morning air iswarm on my exposed shoulders and I can tell it’s going to be a hot day. We keep to the side of the pathto let joggers and cyclists pass, then pull over next to the duck pond. It’s Harry’s favorite. I go to the front of the stroller and lift him out. I set him on his feet and bend over, holding both of hishands as we approach the pond. I can’t believe he’s over a year old already. It feels like yesterday hewas a tiny newborn potato, and now he’s walking. Well, nearly. He mostly just waddles and he needs help doing that, but I know that I’ll blink one dayand suddenly he’ll be forty. A goose floating on the pond honks aggressively at a duck who has swum too close. Harry giggles,and his little left cheek dimples. I used to think it was cute. Okay, it’s still incredibly cute—but it also reminds me of how much Harryis starting to look like his father. It’s bad enough he’s got Gabriel’s dimple, but to add insult to injury,he has his dark eyes as well. It’s hard to tell at this stage, but I wonder if he has inherited Gabriel’slong face and even longer legs as well. How the hell am I supposed to wrangle a teenager who is afoot taller than me? I take a breath and return to the moment, to the feel of his soft little hands in mine. I’m getting ahead ofmyself. The sudden reappearance of Harry’s father has shaken me. After we shared that wild night atFiamma together, I never expected to see him again. I never wanted to, truth be told. Being a singleparent has been no cakewalk, but if I was going to choose someone to co-parent with me it wouldn’tbe “Gabe,” and it definitely wouldn’t be Gabriel Belluci. Harry plops his butt down on the grass and I check the time on my phone. We have a little time beforeI need to drop him off, so I sit behind him and cuddle his back against my stomach. We wave to theducks together. They don’t notice or care. If Gabriel knew about Harry, he would either try to micromanage every detail of our lives or he’d belike these ducks—totally apathetic. Either way, we’re better off without him and always have been. Seeing Gabriel again has made me question a lot of things, but ultimately, if I could go back, Iwouldn’t do anything differently. I have the most beautiful, perfect son—even if he is geneticallypredisposed toward megalomania—and I have him all to myself. Surely, that’s a silver lining that makes it all worth it. We rest by the pond for a few more minutes, but then we’re out of time. I strap Harry back into thestroller and take off at a brisk pace. I wish I didn’t have to take him to day care. I wish we couldspend the day together, far away from my work and Debbie’s wrath. She has been increasinglyfrustrated with my inability to secure a follow-up interview with Gabriel. I’m frustrated, too,especially since I want to do the interview probably even less than he does. It would be easier foreveryone if we just got it out of the way and never had to face each other again. I drop Harry off with a kiss and a smile, then head to work. I get off the elevator on the floor beforemine and take the stairs the rest of the way, as it’s a more direct path from the stairs to my desk than itis from the elevator. The plan is to avoid Debbie until I hopefully have some sort of update. It hasworked for three days so far.