Corey

Getting away from Stefano these days isn’t as easy a feat as it should be. I wouldn’t call him controlling, but he definitely likes to keep tabs on me.

We flew back today and he went straight to work, but I had to make up a story about meeting a friend for dinner to get him off my back.

I quickly pack the suitcase of cash we brought back into a duffel bag and make the call. In a way, I’m still riding the wave from yesterday. It’s like I can see all the possibilities and how they will shape up. I know just how to play each situation. I know just what to say to put Stefano at ease, and I know just what to say to my dad. I keep the call short, urgent and cryptic.

Then I get in my car to meet him.

I don’t want to meet at my apartment, but I don’t want him anywhere near the Bellissimo either, so it will have to do. The air inside my tiny one-bedroom smells stale, like I haven’t lived there in years. Even though it’s still my old furniture and my books are on the shelves, it feels nothing like home. I’m not the person I was when I lived here. I don’t even like her much. She was closed off, barricaded into a confined existence. Afraid to love, afraid to live.

I take one bundle of cash out of the bag and stash it under the sofa cushion. It doesn’t hurt to have a little emergency money.

A knock sounds on the door and my dad pushes it open before I respond. “What’s going on? Are you in danger?” His gaze is sharp and he stands up like he’s going to try to hug me or something.

Oh that’s ripe. Like he ever cared about me. He’s just hoping I want to give him the scoop on his case.

“No.” I toss the duffel bag filled with my winnings on the couch and unzip it, giving him a nice view of the cash.

“Where did you get that?”

“I won it in a poker tournament.”

My dad snorts; he doesn’t believe me. That’s because he doesn’t think I’m good enough to win anything.

“There’s a little over one hundred grand in here.”

A small smile plays on his lips. He’s figured out where this is going. Or he thinks he has. “You want to buy your boyfriend some safety.”

I was right.

I always suspected my dad was corrupt. How could anyone who truly believed in justice be such as asshole?

I put my hands on my hips. “That’s right.”

He nods his head slowly. “All right. I can make his problems go away. But that doesn’t mean there won’t be new ones. And I may not be the one investigating next time. Is this really the kind of guy you want to keep company with?”

Yeah. I’ve had this conversation with myself already. It gnaws me up inside. Stefano is a product of his family and he can’t get away from them, even if he and his brother are doing their best to rise above it all. So it’s absolutely possible there will be another death. More violence. Illegal acts that could endanger Stefano.

But I can’t even think about that. I’m just trying to find my way through this crisis, and if I have a way of protecting Stefano, I’m going to do it.

“That’s for me to figure out,” I say. “Not your problem.”

My dad gives a humorless chuckle. “Right.” He picks up the bag of cash. “I’ll clean up the mess this time. But I suggest you get the hell away from the Tacone family. If I find myself investigating you next time, it won’t be so easy for me to suppress evidence.

I want to ask him what evidence he has, just so I know, but I’m itchy to get away from him. I feel dirty and wrong having this conversation and I want it to be over.

“Got it, yeah.” I walk to the door and hold it open for him.

He tips an imaginary hat and walks out. “You take care of yourself, Corey Jean.”

Fuck you.

I don’t say it because he’s not worth the breath.