6
Damon
“You see, I know when there’s something new on your mind, Damon. It just had to be a woman, I knew it.”
“No, you didn’t,” I replied, acting defensive but really enjoying every moment of my sister’s delight in hearing that I had a date tonight.
Felicia was the only person in my life who could tease me about my gloomy, tough-guy demeanor, and she’d often warned me that a pretty face would come along one day and melt that stubborn heart of mine.
A hitman was skilled at being guarded, but just a few minutes of prodding had drawn the truth from me, and I’d even told Felicia that I helped the girl out of a very awkward incident, though I left out the part where I went after the culprit and left him a corpse.
“I did know,” Felicia, who would never know she was the only reason I was still alive, still claimed. “You think you’re all enigmatic, dear brother, but I said as soon as you came into the café that there was something on your mind.”
“But you said nothing about a woman, smartass.”
“What else could it be?”
“How very convenient.”
“It’s all right, I’ll hold off,” Felicia replied, poking her tongue out. “I know you can’t stand being beaten. So what’s her name?”
“Bea…I think. Or maybe her name starts with the letter B, and that’s just her nickname.”
Felicia almost choked on her coffee at this, and if she had been toying with me as an object of amusement up until that moment. The new gaze she fixed me with confirmed that I had been promoted to a source of unrivalled interest.
“You don’t know her name for certain? How the hell does that work?”
“It was a fleeting exchange,” I replied, shrugging my shoulders. Felicia was the only person I would humor with interrogations like this, but it made me smile that my thoughts were intriguing to her, even if I couldn’t tell her much about what went on in my life.
Or anything, really.
“A fleeting exchange and yet you end up agreeing on a date with her?”
“No, I only got her number. She agreed to a date this morning, texted me back just a few minutes ago in fact.”
Felicia opened her mouth to voice a response to the information she was digging up, but had to stop to take the development in some more. An unusual pause for someone so sharp and articulate, though she had soon regathered her thoughts and adopted a more serious tone as well.
“Damon,” she said. “I’ve never seen you like this before. You actually look…excited. You. Excited for a date.”
“Gimme a break,” I replied. “I’ve been out with lots of girls. What have I given away after just two minutes of talking about this one?”
She snorted. “Slept with lots of girls, maybe. I can’t remember hearing about you ever taking one out for a fancy meal.”
“First time for everything.”
“But you press her for a date first thing in the morning after just a brief meeting with her. Damon, that’s not like you; even if you really fancied her you’d usually put your feet up for a few evenings and let her wait. ‘The casual approach’, remember?”
“We were only allowed half a conversation last night,” I said. “I had to finish it by text, that’s all.”
“So she was the first thing on your mind when you woke up this morning,” Felicia said, pointing up a finger at me as if it held some magic quality by which she had access to my brain waves. “You found her mysterious, didn’t you? Unobtainable?”
“Unobtainable?” I replied, wrinkling my brow. “I have a date with her tonight.”
“She seemed unobtainable though, didn’t she? Different in some way?”
I smiled in response before taking another sip of my coffee; a smile that could have been interpreted as giving in, or else indifference. It was convenient that my sister thought I didn’t really know my own mind, and that proved the only real defense I had against her probing which, as usual, was annoyingly shrewd. I’d tried to fill my mind with something other than the gorgeous brunette I’d saved from Batista’s clutches, but the truth was that I’d hardly slept last night, and when I did, I’d dreamed fitfully of those captivating brown eyes.
Waiting for a response to my text, which had taken an hour, had almost been unbearable, and I’d resisted the urge to call her. Maybe she was a late riser, and I didn’t want to look like some douchebag stalker. At last, when the response came, I’d wanted to punch the air like a teenager scoring a touchdown.
Hmm…Felicia was right. I’d never been like this before.
I really should’ve been thinking about far more serious matters, because the day after taking down one of my employer’s key targets was usually a day of serious contemplation. A rendezvous—always necessary to report on any potential bad news or complications—would be imminent, unannounced and at the mafia’s leisure, and I would be expected to make myself available or else risk giving the wrong impression, even though I’d completed an important task for them.
Wanting someone dead didn’t remove the apprehension surrounding said individual during the sensitive time that followed. The whole organization would be on the alert for further complications, and relating the fact that my hit last night had been a job well done was an important part of me remaining invaluable to the Carusos, rather than a potential liability. A hitman’s reputation could change overnight if he wasn’t careful, but rather than thinking about the Batista matter, all that was going through my mind was a girl whose name I wasn’t even sure I knew.
Felicia was right; I was enjoying the mystery and not asking the girl for her proper name via text was a way of extending that feeling. Maybe we’d have nothing in common and the mystery would vanish as soon as we met in non-harrowing circumstances. If so, only time could tell, and I’d continue to enjoy the suspense until finding out.
“Hmm…”
Sensing that Felicia would wait until tomorrow to pick my brain further about the mysterious girl, I found that I was still the focus of deep thought nevertheless.
“I guess I’m supposed to ask what “hmm,” means?” I asked.
“I was just thinking.”
“Must you?”
She rolled her eyes at my crack. “If you come across the real thing with this girl—and I’m assuming she’s not someone in the mob’s inner circle—how the hell are you going to balance them both?”
Once again, Felicia’s contemplations couldn’t have been more on the money. My association with a life of crime was a constant shadow hanging over every chance of doing something else. My sister was jumping ahead this time, though; I didn’t even know anything about this girl yet, so I wasn’t going to let life’s woes drag me down until I knew more.
“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,” I replied. “I haven’t even had dinner with her yet.”
“You’re going to have to think about it sooner rather than later, though,” she continued. “If it turns out this mystery girl is the real thing, then it might be time for a number of big decisions.”
But there are no decisions to take when coming out of the organization means putting your life at risk, I wanted to say. As perceptive as my sister was, the one missing piece of jigsaw from her summation of me was the one that included herself. She thought I lived a life on the fringe of society by choice, because I didn’t know any better after the shitty childhood we’d had, and that maybe one day I’d be able to leave that life behind and live on the straight and narrow like she did. I knew she judged my job—although she didn’t know exactly what it entailed; all she knew was that I worked for connected guys—but I couldn’t tell her the real reason I kept doing it. The guilt would eat her alive.
“Maybe she’s married already and we’ll have to live a lie anyway,” I replied, outwardly dismissing her concerns while knowing this to be the very factor that would come back and hurt me.
I couldn’t not see the girl again, though. Living with risk came naturally to me, even when there were puzzles ahead that might be impossible to figure out a solution for.
As we finished our breakfast, I became aware of a car pulling up on the street within a convenient view of the café window. Felicia didn’t pay it any attention, but she wasn’t accustomed to picking out the subtle details of working with a criminal organization. But I knew instantly that the shady figure behind the driver’s seat, who wore an expensive suit and cashmere scarf and made no sign of getting out, was there because of me.
The arrival of one of the Caruso’s henchmen was predictable and served as a reminder not to get too carried away with my own affairs. The mob were in the middle of a war now, and they would keep reminding me of where my allegiance should lie, even though I’d thus far never given them any reason to doubt my motives.
My abilities had proven invaluable to them, but given the terms of my employment, they would always keep an eye on me in this way, especially during complicated times and even as I did their own dirty work for them. If I approached the car to speak to the driver, I’d probably receive a jovial response to the whole scenario—such was their way—but there was no point. Their presence here, and their continued surveillance of me was to send me one message loud and clear.
You’ll never really be one of us…and we’re watching you.