Chapter Four
Molly
I dream of him that night, Salvatore Mariano. He’s a black, shadowy figure that swoops into my bedroom window, hovering over me while I sleep. I’m paralyzed beneath him. I can’t move or speak. It’s obvious that he wants something from me. I don’t know what, but it’s something vital; energy, blood, my sanity. I should be afraid. Instead, I’m waiting for him to sink his teeth into my flesh.
The dream haunts the edge of my consciousness at work. I shouldn’t be thinking of him at a time like this, while Greg and I hide out in the break room, pouring over our budget and trying to find money where there isn’t any.
“We’re stretched thin,” Greg says, rubbing the back of his neck. “No doubt about it.”
I shake Salvatore from my thoughts, and the hopeless feeling returns. “All I want to do is help people. Why is that so hard? I just want to do good.”
Greg shrugs, squinting at the spreadsheets. “To do good, you have to put up with the bad. Sometimes you have to get into bed with it.” He gives me a wink.
This is supposed to make me laugh, but it makes me think of my landlord. I shudder.
“I’ll take the cut,” I say, resolutely.
“No, Molly, don’t do that,” Greg advises. “We’ll all absorb the loss.”
“No. If we cut the counselor’s pay any more, they’ll quit. They’re already at near poverty levels. So are you, Greg.”
“I’m used to it,” he says. “Grant is too. That’s why he’s the breadwinner in the household while I’m out saving the world. How about we both take a hit? Split it 50/50.”
I don’t want to agree to this. I’m already getting Greg’s expertise for a song, paying him much less than he’s worth. But I know Greg won’t let me shoulder the burden alone.
“Deal,” I say, shaking his hand grimly. This has to be the most depressing deal ever made.
Greg straightens the papers, then crosses his arms over his chest. “Are you sure you’ll be okay?”
“I’ll be fine. I still have some savings left over from my inheritance,” I say. It’s a lie I’ve told Greg many times. I’m afraid if he knew that I funneled every penny of my grandfather’s money into this place within the first year, and that I now rely on my dismal salary, he might advise me to give up on this place. And I’m afraid his advice would be sound.
We adjourn our meeting, and I go into my office to get ready for my next client. As I’m straightening the pillows on the chairs, I suddenly realize I’ve made a horrible mistake.
The apartment building has income requirements. By falling below that, I could lose my place. I’m supposed to alert Mr. Mariano if there’s a change in my income. Well, I’m not doing that. I’ll wait for the leasing agent to return from vacation. Maybe I can work something out with her. If not, I’ll get a second job, sell an organ on the black market, anything to avoid losing my counselors.
I hear my client approaching down the hall. I banish my problems from my thoughts. It’s time to pretend that I have it all together, both for the client, and for myself.
*
Salvatore
I sit at my desk in the bedroom, watching the grainy footage that’s displayed on my computer monitor. I’ve been watching the Mariano’s, closely, ever since I banished myself from them. I have cameras everywhere, and trackers on several of their vehicles. The feed I’m watching now is from Snake’s office in the concrete shop, my father’s old office before Snake killed him. I set up this particular camera during Snake and Jess’ wedding when I knew everyone would be away. They didn’t send me an invitation, but I knew exactly when it was.
Snake is in there with Jess, his wife, the bitch who put the entire thing into motion. If it wasn’t for her, no one would’ve ever known that my father framed her fiancé for being a rat. Monty never would’ve attracted Franco’s wrath.
Snake sits in his desk chair, with Jess standing beside him. He loops his arm around her ass, pulling her closer to him, and kisses her. Jess slides a leg across his lap and straddles him while Snake pulls up her shirt.
I switch the monitor off. I usually watch them fuck, but right now I have no taste for it.
After hours of studying Franco’s finances, part two of my plan has crystalized for me. Franco is screwing Snake, and every single Mariano soldier. They’re making ungodly amounts of money that Franco is hoarding for himself, with very little trickling down to the guys beneath. I’m sure the “official” set of books don’t show that.
That little weakness is my opening. I could easily sow discord between Snake, Franco, and the soldiers. Nobody likes being ripped off, especially mobsters. The question remains, how do I get myself reinstated with the family? Not only do I need to convince Franco that I’m not vengeful anymore, I’ll also have to show that I’m useful too. Uncle Franco is a simple man. It all comes down to dollars and cents for him.
I’m tired of thinking about it, and need to refocus. I fire up my monitor, and spy on Molly, my tasty little tenant. I paid an IT guy under the table to install the same software that big companies use to spy on their employees, so I could do the same to my tenants.
I glance over Molly’s internet history. She’s been on Tinder, but hasn’t made any matches yet. Good.
I log into her email account. Immediately, I see a message informing her the funding to her nonprofit will be cut. I learned from her renter’s application that she’s barely skating by on a counselor’s salary. My brain lights up. Financial problems are always easy to exploit. A part of me wishes that Molly was my main target instead of the Mariano’s.
I click through a few more emails, until I see a long chain between Molly and someone named Greg Freely. They’re discussing the changes in their budget. It looks like Molly’s salary is going to take a hit.
I do quick math in my head. That will put Molly below the income requirements for the building. My mind makes quick connections between Molly’s dilemma and my own.
It all clicks together.
I take a new cigar out of the humidor, and roll it between my fingers. The paper is dry and stiff, hiding the aromatic, moist tobacco within. I light it, savoring the taste, while I plot my revenge.