24
Damon
A fucking office job.
What a sick way to punish a hitman for fucking something up. By the end of the first day, I’d been asking myself if millions of people genuinely worked like this permanently without going insane from boredom; after a week I was sorry Caruso couldn’t be more merciful and just blow my brains out once and for all. I almost felt that I’d done penance for my crimes as a result of this boring job (though knew this was of course not the case). I’d never been to prison so couldn’t compare the two, but I supposed that at least in prison a person could look as bored as I felt. Office workers were required to maintain an interested and professional appearance at all times, and that was killing me.
The only occasional distraction was when the Carusos other planted agent, Jacqueline, was present. Some days she was in the office, other times out on surveillance. I’d kept her tactically close back when I’d been manipulating the timetables in order to be the one guarding Bea—as really it had been Jacqueline who had employed her seductive techniques with the other agents to ensure they agreed to whatever routines suited the mafia monitoring.
At the time, it had been easy to keep her at arm’s length, as I’d simply smiled and left her hanging whenever she’d hinted we should get down to something. Stuck in the office for eight hours a day, however, meant that the insatiable blonde had me cornered and was able to direct her full powers my way. It was clear that she was unused to being turned down and so the conquest was becoming something of an obsession as a result.
“Hey, darl.”
Speak of the Devil…here she was now.
“Hi,” I replied, my voice stiff as I sat down with my espresso.
“Ooh, coffee,” she said, practically purring as she sat down next to me. “Mind if I join?”
Well, she’d already sat down, so I suppose it didn’t even matter if I minded or not. I grunted a response, and a moment later, I felt her hand sliding over my crotch. “You’ve been avoiding me,” she murmured, and I jerked away from her touch.
“Not avoiding you, just not interested,” I said.
She pouted. “Oh, come on…you’re a single guy, aren’t you? I’m single too, so why not?”
“I told you, I’m not interested,” I repeated.
A few months ago, I would’ve happily hooked up with her for as long as her fixation with me lasted, but I wasn’t in the mood for paying another woman any attention whatsoever, and I definitely wasn’t in the mood for fucking anyone. As far as I was concerned, there were no other women but Bea, and it just proved to me even further what an idiot I’d been for losing her. I doubted I’d ever want another woman again.
I guess I really had changed in the short time I’d been with Bea.
Jacqueline continued to pout at my rejection, but it was too bad—I wasn’t changing my mind. I was a one-woman man now…it was just too bad my ‘one woman’ couldn’t stand me. As such, it came as a huge shock when my phone buzzed a moment later, and I saw that it was a text from Bea.
We need to talk.
I’d given up on the thought of ever hearing a thing from her again—which was fair enough considering what I’d done, and I hadn’t tried to harass her into changing her mind—and I’d resigned myself to spending my whole life haunted by her beautiful features whenever I happened to come across her on a TV screen, smiling in the background while her father bored everyone to death with one of his speeches.
The content was enigmatic; it had to be really. Why did she need to speak to me? I supposed that whatever it was, it didn’t matter, as long as I had the chance to see her again.
Just say where and when, I replied, not pausing for concern over what her motivations were. When the reply came, there was a friend’s address attached from where I could pick her up later that day.
For the rest of the afternoon, the clock ticked away even slower than usual, but for once I didn’t mind.
I was going to see Bea again, and that was all that mattered.
***
I didn’t have to wait long once I arrived at the address Bea had given me. She was soon stepping out of the door, appearing to say goodbye to someone, giving me just the one slightly thoughtful glance before rounding the vehicle and hopping into the passenger seat. I was overwhelmed to see her and felt that a yearning inside of me had finally been answered. At the same time, I noticed that she looked pale and tired, and I was struck by concern for her.
“Has something happened?” I asked, as much as I might have liked to delay getting right to the point for the pleasure of her company.
“Can we just drive somewhere and I’ll tell you everything?” Bea replied, sounding fatigued. She didn’t seem angry or moody with me at all, though, which was strange.
“You want to stop somewhere to eat?” I asked. “Get one of those cupcakes you love?”
“No,” she said, shaking her head. “Just take us somewhere quiet where we can talk, please.”
The usual choice of location would have been a nice ocean view somewhere, or my usual lake, but I didn’t want to be so insensitive as to intrude upon the day with a memory of better times, so I just picked the first spot that came along, which happened to be the parking lot of a bowling alley. Any people present were drawn inside as soon as they pulled up, and there were plenty of spaces available far from the entrance where we could sit and talk.
Once I’d turned the engine off, I decided not to pester Bea, letting her get to the point in her own time. It didn’t take long, and she couldn’t have picked any more effective words to astound me more.
“I’m pregnant,” she said, without looking at me to see my jaw drop. “I thought you had a right to know.”
My heart began to race at a million miles an hour. “You’re…you’re really…”
She nodded. “Yes. I know we used protection, but who knows? Maybe a Jacuzzi isn’t the best choice for trialing condoms. Regardless of how it happened, it did happen.”
“Have you told anyone?” I asked.
“I told my parents. I stood up to them, just like you always told me to.”
“And?”
“They threw me out.”
Anger spiked through me. “You’re fucking kidding me.”
She shook her head. “I’ve been staying at Claire’s.”
“Shit, Bea, I’m so sorry. I’ll do anything to help.”
She didn’t even seem to hear me, her eyes focused dead ahead on the windscreen. “They wanted me to get an abortion. But I can’t. I won’t.”
I breathed a sigh of relief. Thank fucking Christ. I’d never have wanted her to get a termination, because although it was unplanned, we’d created a life—a perfect little life—and I wanted to see the baby growing inside her every day until he or she arrived.
“Bea,” I said, reaching for her hand. “I don’t know exactly how you thought I’d react, but just so you know, I’m not going to run away from this. I’ll be there for you and the baby, whatever the case is. You’ll have my support. Always.”
For the first time since we’d met back up, Bea smiled, though it was accompanied by a shake of the head and I feared that she might have stored up some kind of riot act for me.
“You know, I hear all these stories of poor young girls who find out they’re pregnant only to find out their guy is really a creep, or too scared to face up to adult life and turns their back on them; leaving them to struggle. Then there’s me; it would seem to be written in stone that a mafia pawn posing as a special agent in order to have his way with a Governor’s daughter would need very little incentive to run a mile. And yet here you are, appearing to take it all in your stride. As if I couldn’t be any madder at you.”
“You’re mad at me for this?” I asked, confused after a rant that had sounded complimentary.
“Yes! For the contradiction,” she replied, raising her voice for the first time. “Did you really have to go so far out of your way in order to pursue me that you put us in such a ridiculous position? Now you’re saying you’ll do the right thing, but how am I ever going to actually explain to anyone who you really are?”
“Bea,” I began, wanting to address her first point initially but then having to acknowledge she was completely right, “that may be the case, but just so you know, although I lied about who I was, my feelings for you weren’t a lie. I meant it all, and—please don’t take this wrong way—there are easier ways to get women if that was all I was after.”
It felt good to say those words and even better that Bea appeared to be listening to me. She wasn’t being unreasonable about anything, even though she had every right to be. Maybe that was the tiredness at work, but I could sense a newfound confidence and strength in her; one I’d always known she had deep down, but rarely showed. I remembered how much I’d always admired her attitude and, regardless of what she chose to do from now on, I felt grateful that a massive weight was off my shoulders.
“I have to admit,” Bea said, “I did sit and consider not telling you, after what you did. But that’s not the right thing to do.”
“That’s understandable,” I said. “Look, I know I was wrong for not telling you the whole story. It wasn’t because I wanted to keep it from you, but because I was scared of what you’d think. I’m not proud of it. And just so you know, it was a complete coincidence that the job involved your family. I didn’t go looking for it, but obviously I took advantage of it and I apologize. I hope there’s some way you can find it in your heart to forgive me someday.”
“Honestly, I’m a bit tired of being angry with you,” Bea replied, moving her hand to her stomach. “Especially now that I’m pregnant. How my father’s managed to keep up his temper all these years, I’ll never know. I guess I’m made of different stuff.”
I gave her a wry smile. “Better stuff.”
Bea was silent for a long moment before speaking up again. “I might be ready to understand a bit more,” she said, meeting my eyes with her own steely gaze. “I want you to tell me your whole story, though. Even about the work you’ve done. Let me know who the father of my child really is.”
So be it, I thought and, when it came to it, I really didn’t mind telling her my whole story, as fucked up as it all was. In fact, it felt good to get everything off my chest. Whatever bad things I’d done in my life, Bea had seen something in me. Even if the damage that resulted from it was irreparable, I would rather she understood than anyone else who might try to pen my obituary.
“So you already know what happened with my father. He killed my mother, and Felicia and I ran away. It was a better choice than being around him.”
Bea nodded, and I continued. “Hanging around the streets as a teen never really works out well for anyone. It’s amazing Felicia managed to get out of it all. Anyway, I got involved with some dodgy shit. Started running drugs for a local street gang. Did that until I was seventeen or so.”
“Uh-huh.”
“As time went by, the gang trusted me more, and I learned a lot. Got included in a lot more things, too. Somewhere along the way, that meant learning how to kill. So I did it.”
“You murdered people.”
“Yep. Within a few years, I was well known around these parts as the go-to guy if you wanted someone gone. I guess I always tried to rationalize it as an attempt at doing good, because I had rules. I’d never kill women or children, and I’d only take jobs for those who’d done shit that made me feel like they deserved it. Rapists, criminals…the scum of society. But I know that doesn’t really make it right, Bea.”
She was quiet for a long time. “How many people have you killed?” she finally asked.
“I don’t know,” I said. “Lost count a long time ago.”
“Did you kill the man who attacked me that night at the nightclub?”
I nodded. “Yes.”
She took a deep breath and looked down at her hands. “So that’s why there was a body found in the alleyway near the club the next day. It was him.”
“Yes.”
Another deep breath. “How did you get involved with the Carusos?”
“I was paid to kill one of their guys. They managed to figure out who I was. Instead of killing me out of revenge, they hired me to work for them…only it wasn’t exactly hiring. They told me they’d kill Felicia if I didn’t work for them. So I’ve been with them ever since.”
“I didn’t know that part about your sister,” Bea replied. “I thought she might have hinted that your hands were tied a little more.”
“She doesn’t know,” I said, not wanting her to misunderstand. “That’s about the only thing I’ve kept from her, but I don’t need her living with that guilt. She doesn’t deserve it, and if she knew, she’d probably do something reckless like call up the FBI.”
“She’s a strong character, isn’t she?” Bea said. “I hope you weren’t mad at her for giving you away.”
“I had to bite my lip but I didn’t give her a hard time, no,” I replied, smiling at the idea. “Besides, she’d only wipe the floor with me if I tried anyway. She had to be strong growing up, and she did better than I did.”
She nodded slowly. “So from what I understand, you were a careful hitman. A professional—whatever that means. So why take such a ridiculous assignment that was bound to go wrong? Wasn’t there a better way of trying to get me to reconsider a second date?”
“You weren’t the only motivation for taking it on,” I replied.
“What do you mean?”
“It was my way out.”
Bea pulled a confused expression, so I went on.
“After all this time, I finally saw a scenario where I could ask my boss for a get-out clause; if the mission was a success, of course.”
She frowned. “The mafia would just let you go like that?”
“I had the boss’s word, Bea. I’m serious. He agreed to remove any threat from my sister’s life so I could go freelance again. I didn’t tell him that I was really planning on disappearing and making boats, but it would be a nice excuse if ever the call came again and I was docking in South America somewhere—or at least I could say I was.”
“All for spying and getting information to blackmail my father?”
“Yeah. This War on Drugs thing is really getting up their nose. All politicians know that taking on the mob is a dodgy business. Your father’s the one doing it now, and they want to take him down a peg.”
Bea was silent for a while, looking thoughtful, but I expected she was thinking more about her family than me.
“I don’t quite know what you want to hear,” I said after a lengthy pause, “but, for what it’s worth, I do have enough savings to take care of us both, and the baby.”
She was silent for a long time. “I’m still angry, Damon,” she finally replied, “but I think I do forgive you for keeping certain things from me. I understand a bit more now and—unlike a certain person—I don’t see why having principles should necessarily mean avoiding making the best out of a situation.”
I was silent for a while, content in the knowledge that I was well on my way to being wholly forgiven by her, as much as I didn’t deserve it. A hand crept over to my leg, and I reached my own hand down, gently squeezing Bea’s in it. Finally, I turned to her.
“I don’t want you living with the stress of not knowing where you’re going,” I said. “I could take that stress away.”
Bea appeared about to respond, paused and looked as if she was reconsidering, then finally spoke again. “Let me think about it for another day or so. I need to get my head straight.”
I nodded. It was more than I deserved.
I just hoped she’d say yes…