Maggie

 

Maggie had been watching her father pace around their house for almost a week. She'd never seen him so nervous before—muttering to himself, wringing his hands, jumping every time the phone rang. Even when she was lying in bed at night, she could still hear his footsteps traveling from floor to floor, room to room. He'd always taken tremendous pride in his appearance, but now he was forgetting to bathe or comb his hair for days at a time, and his expensive outfits always looked rumpled.

 

She knew whatever he was waiting for had something to do with Gabe. She'd even heard him call Gabe several times, but after each brief conversation, he continued to roam the house nervously.

 

When Adamo told Maggie's father that her second date with Gabe had ended before it began, Turo interrogated her mercilessly. She couldn't tell him the real reason was because he'd refused to have sex with her again, so she stubbornly kept her mouth shut and her arms folded as he harangued her.

 

“I thought you said you liked him better than the others,” Turo yelled.

 

“Well, I was wrong! He's no different, and I don't like him anymore.”

 

Turo let out a frustrated roar, slamming his fist down on his desk. “Goddamn it, why couldn't I have had a son? Girls are so fickle. One minute they love some boy, and the next minute they hate him, and they can't even tell you why. It's enough to drive a man insane.”

 

“I'm not going to see him again.”

 

“Yes, you are,” Turo seethed. “You're going to have another date with him, and another, and you're going to smile and laugh and behave yourself on all of them. You know why? Because as quickly as your mind changed about Gabe, it could change back just as quickly. And I won't let you ruin this chance for yourself just because you can't make up your mind about what you want.”

 

And Maggie had stormed out of his office, and he'd slammed the door behind her, and she'd stomped up the stairs to her room and slammed her own door in response. It had become a familiar pattern.

 

Now Maggie could hear the phone ringing, and her father scrambling to answer it. “Hello?”

 

Maggie got up from her bed and opened her door, sticking her head out to listen. Was this the call he'd been waiting for?

 

From the short-tempered, disappointed tone in his voice, she guessed it wasn't.

 

“What do you mean, 'disappeared'? Did you check that cabin he's got out in the swamp?...Well, what about those fucking cousins of his? Kenny and Louie and that retard, what's-his-name, Cheddar?...Don't tell me that! Nothing 'vanishes without a trace!' Were there any signs they'd been bumped off? Any blood, or...'A couple of drops?' That tells me nothing! You're telling me nothing! Now find out what the hell happened to them, and fast. They were our only source for the shit. Hopefully, with this other deal I've got going, it won't matter—but still, we'd better find out what happened, just to be on the safe side.”

 

He slammed the phone down, and Maggie heard him let out a frustrated sigh.

 

Maggie couldn't believe how Turo was coming unraveled by this situation with Gabe, whatever it was. He never used to speak unless it was in an even and rational tone, and he'd almost never used foul language. But now...

 

Good, Maggie thought with a twinge of cruel satisfaction. Whatever's going on, maybe it'll give him ulcers and he'll die from them.

 

Still, she was sick to her stomach from all of it. Sick of the gangsters and the shady deals and the killings and the secrecy and the careful double-speak from fear of wiretapping. Sick of the whole wretched thing.

 

There was a knock at the front door, and Maggie heard her father run to it, flinging it open. “Adamo! What is it?”

 

“Gabe reached out, Don Ricci. He said he'd like to speak with you. It seemed fairly urgent.”

 

“Why? What's going on?”

 

“I don't know, sir. But whatever it is, he sounds quite unhappy about it.”