Chapter Thirteen
Molly
For the rest of the weekend, I’m a prisoner in my own apartment. Every time I hear someone in the hallway, my stomach twists into knots. I run to the peephole to make sure it’s not Sal coming to torture me further. I don’t go on the internet. I still have the irrational fear that he’s somehow spying on me through my computer, so I entertain myself with analog games of solitaire. The counselor voice in my head scolds me, saying that Sal isn’t in charge of my life. He only has power if I give it to him, but I can’t stop myself from doing just that.
It’s not that I’m scared of what he’ll do. I’m scared that I’m not strong enough to resist him. After the barbecue, when he dropped me off here, I’d been so close to saying, Fuck it, and dragging him into my bedroom. He’s so handsome, and with his gaze burning with desire, every inch of my body throbbed for him. Luckily, I was too freaked out about the huge check to go through with something like that. But if he tempts me again, will I be strong enough to turn him down?
I’m so happy when Monday morning rolls around. I look forward to being at the office all day, and not having Sal right down the hall. I leave my apartment earlier than usual, just in case he was planning on surprising me. The apartment building is quiet at this hour. No one stirs in the hallway. I check the peephole, making sure all is clear, then open the door. After taking one step, I nearly trip over the box at my feet.
My body goes numb. It’s the same crimson dress box that I’d returned to him. I cast a nervous glance towards his door, then drag the box into my apartment.
I pull off the lid. There’s a note on top of the folded dress, and another piece of paper stapled to the back.
You looked beautiful in this, and you should to keep it. You can afford it now. -S
I flip the note over to read the next page. It’s a detailed invoice. Sal’s charging me for the dress, the underwear set, and back pay on my rent. Scrawled on the bottom of the bill, in Sal’s neat, swooping handwriting, is another note that reads, Now you don’t owe me anything.
At first, the gesture pisses me off. What’s the point of this? Is he just being an asshole? Is he teasing me for the very real issues I brought up when we argued the other night? I haphazardly pack everything back into the box, and throw the lid on top.
On my walk to work, however, my attitude softens. It’s a clear, sunny day. Birds chirp, and butterflies flutter around, drinking from the Tupelo trees that are planted on the street. The calm, bright atmosphere makes me feel more generous.
Maybe, I hypothesize, just maybe, Sal’s not trying to be a jerk. Perhaps, in his twisted way, the bill is meant as a kind gesture. I’d said that I was uncomfortable being in his debt, and Sal has fixed that. If that’s the case, what’s he trying to say? That he really is interested in me? It seems silly that a man like Sal would go to so much trouble just for a one night stand. He could easily move on to another woman. Why’s he trying so hard?
I shake my head fiercely, and push open the door of the center. I can’t think like that. I can’t give in to Sal’s tricks. I can’t risk being vulnerable.
Greg beams at me from his desk. I pretend I don’t see him, and dash into the break room. While I’m stirring sugar into my coffee, I hear footsteps entering. I know it’s him.
“How was your weekend?” I ask, casually sipping my coffee.
Greg is still smiling brilliantly. It’s like he can’t stop, even when he attempts to be snarky. “You really want to ask where I went for brunch?” he asks.
He’s clutching his phone, and he shows me the screen. He has the center’s bank balance pulled up. I gasp as the hot coffee burns my mouth. We’re one hundred thousand dollars richer.
“We’re going to talk about this.” Greg points to his phone, his smile growing even bigger. “I nearly shit myself when I saw this. Did you know it was coming?” He searches my face, waiting for me to match his intense enthusiasm.
I blink rapidly, hiding behind my coffee cup. It’s still too hot, and I take a sip that’s much too big. I choke on the scalding liquid, and spit it back in my cup. Greg’s smile falls slightly. His eyes narrow with confusion.
“Good morning, guys,” comes a chirpy voice.
It’s Cora. I could kiss her now for this blessed interruption. But Greg’s having none of it.
“Nope,” he announces, then gently puts his hand on Cora’s arm, leading her towards the exit. “Cora, I love you, you’re fantastic, your outfit is hot, but you have to get out.” He disposes of an amused, but confused, looking Cora into the hallway. He turns to me, placing his hand on his hip. “Talk,” he orders.
I tuck my hair behind my ear, looking at my feet. “I found out about it this weekend.”
Greg sighs. “Okay, and you didn’t call me immediately, but I’ll overlook that for now.” His expression hardens as he plays the part of interrogator. “What’s the MTB Giving Fund? Did you reach out to them?”
I close my eyes, and blurt out the answer. “It was started by Sal’s uncle, Franco Mariano. It was his donation.”
Greg rubs his hands together, nodding, like he’s broken the case. “Sal? I see. What a man.” He gets a dreamy look in his eye, like he’s picturing Sal in his mind. I want to shake him and tell him not to conjure my landlord. “So, it’s getting serious.”
“It’s not like that,” I insist.
“Give me a break,” Greg says, rolling his eyes. “A hundred k isn’t serious enough for you?”
“It wasn’t Sal’s donation.”
“Right, right,” Greg says, sarcastically. “I’m sure Sal had nothing to do with it.” He takes my hand endearingly. “Honey, you don’t give that kind of cash to someone unless you want to wife them up.”
“Wife. I don’t think so.” My shoulders tense up to my ears. I fidget with my coffee straw. “It’s not serious. I swear. I’m thinking about dumping him anyway.”
Greg’s face falls in absolute devastation. “Why?” he whines.
“Because-“ I purse my lips, trying to find the words. I can’t articulate my reasons for fearing Sal. On paper, he’s really done nothing wrong. He’s been nothing but generous to me.
“Put the coffee down,” Greg says, taking the paper cup from me. He puts his hands on my shoulders, leveling his eyes with mine. “Molly, please don’t turn into one of those people who sabotage their own happiness. I see it a lot with compassionate people. You feel so much for those who are suffering that you don’t think you deserve good things in your life.”
I look away, immediately dismissing this idea. “I’m not one of those people. I want to be happy.”
Greg places his hand on my heart, and lowers his voice. “Then stay out of your own way.”
The interrogation finally ends. Greg and I go to our desks and get to work. In my head, I continue our conversation. I don’t sabotage my own happiness. That’s insane. The whole reason I’m here is because I chased my dreams. And even though I want Sal, I can’t let myself have him because-
Even in my one-sided argument, my excuses for thwarting Sal seem flimsy. I think he’s going to break my heart, that he’s going to lose interest in me. He got his uncle to give a huge donation to the center for fuck’s sake. He was trying to be kind, to make me happy. And then, there was that thing Sal said, right before he left my apartment. He said he chose me. That should make me happy, shouldn’t it? A handsome, well off, exciting man chose me.
But I’m not happy. Why?
Shit. Maybe Greg has a point.
*
Salvatore
Before walking into the concrete shop, I straighten my freshly pressed suit jacket, and brush off a few pieces of lint from the sleeves. A lesser man would be nervous right now, but I know better than to cloud my headspace with doubt. Everything is going perfectly. I worked my way back in with the Mariano’s. My plan is to sow discord among the ranks, which shouldn’t be a problem. At the barbecue, Bruno had hinted at the fact that he’s not happy with the way things are going, and wants someone like me to shake things up. Bruno is one of Snake’s most trusted soldiers. If I can get the Beast on my side, it will make it that much easier to rip this family apart from the inside out.
Things are going perfectly, even if I haven’t fucked Molly yet. But that’s just a matter of time. I’m still working on her. And I like that she’s not making it easy for me. She’s a challenge, which I fucking love.
I swing the door open and walk confidently into the concrete shop. The entire crew is here. Dozens of soldiers sit around round tables set up in the middle of the warehouse. Everyone goes quiet when they see me. I get a quick rush that feeds off of their fear and insecurity. I take a seat at Snake and Bruno’s table with an attitude like I own the place.
“It feels good to be back,” I say, breaking the heavy silence. I nod to Bruno, then look at Snake. “Did you miss me as much as I missed you?”
Snake clenches his teeth, glaring at me suspiciously. “Got your tribute?”
I smile, watching his eyes darken with hate. “Got it right here.” I reach into my jacket, pull out a fat wad of cash, and throw it on the table in front of him. “That’s from my own pocket as a show of good faith. Once I get a racket up and running, I’ll be generating more cash soon.”
Snake keeps his eye on me, gathering up the money. He wears an annoying fucking smirk as he thumbs through the bills. “Bruno,” he says, gesturing for the beast to lean closer to him. He whispers something that I can’t hear, then turns to me, pointing towards his office. “Can we talk?”
“Sure thing, capo,” I say.
I stand up, then swing my arm out, telling him to go first. There’s no way I’m walking in front of him so he can plunge another knife into my back. We walk into his office, the one he stole from my father, I struggle to keep to my cool. Snake was my best friend, more like a brother, really, so his betrayal cut deeply. Now, hating him is as easy as breathing. I want nothing more than to inflict excruciating pain onto him. But my time will come. For now, I need to play the part of the reformed mafioso.
Snake stands behind his desk, one hand on his gun, the other pointing to me. “I’m warning you right now, you better not be up to something.”
“Whoa,” I say, holding up my hands in surrender. “Already with the accusations. Hand to God, I’m not up to anything.”
Snake exhales sharply out of his nose. “I hope, for your sake, you’re telling the truth.”
“I am. So, is that it?”
I turn towards the door, but Snake stops me.
“That’s not it,” he says.
I turn back to him. He’s looking down at the desk, his tough guy act has faded. “For the record,” he starts, looking up at me. “I’m sorry about Monty. I had orders. I had no choice. Rats die. Monty wasn’t above that.”
“Of course I understand,” I say through my teeth.
Snake sits behind his desk, and briefly rubs his face with the palm of his hand. “I felt like shit after it was done, you know. I know I hurt you. You didn’t deserve that. I know we can’t get back to how things used to be, just- I’m sorry, Sal. I’ve been wanting to tell you that for a long time.”
I know Snake well, and I can tell my old pal means every word he says. Despite myself, something rises up in me, an emotion, and not a negative one. I have the strange urge to tell Snake I forgive him. This has been happening lately, I’ve been feeling things, ever since I met Molly. But emotions cloud rational thinking. I have no use for them. Fortunately, I’m adept at shutting them down in an instant.
I clear my throat, straighten my jacket, and walk over towards him. He tenses up when I place my hand on his shoulder. I look down at his face, letting my hatred for him flood through my veins.
“This is a tough business,” I say. “I know that more than anyone. Don’t think another thing of it. The past is the past.”
Snake stands up, looking me in my eyes. He plants his hand on my shoulder and squeezes. “I’m glad you’re back, man,” he says, then goes in for a hug. I bite back my nausea and let him. “But don’t forget,” he whispers in my ear. “I’m watching you.”
I smile to myself and think, I’m watching you too, asshole.