Chapter Twenty-Four
Jess
No way was I going to sit at my apartment, wondering where Snake is, or what he’s doing. Snake rushed out so quickly that I knew his story about Anthony was bullshit. Not long after Snake left, I called an Uber, and had the driver drop me off a few blocks from the concrete store. While sneaking up to the side of the warehouse, sure enough, I see Snake’s car.
“Fucking liar,” I grumble. If I wasn’t petty, I’d get the hell out of there. But I want to see what Snake’s lying about so I can throw it in his face later.
In the alleyway beside the warehouse, there’s a high set, narrow window that’s obscured by dumpsters. I slide in the narrow space between the dumpster and the wall. It’s so tight, I have to suck in my stomach and hold my breath to fit. I stand on my tiptoes to look into the window.
The glass is dark and smudged with dirt. I can barely make out the outline of four men; Sal, Anthony, Bruno, and Snake. They stand near a dark, amorphous blob. Whatever it is, the Mariano men seem very interested in it. They keep gesturing to and looking at it.
The blob moves. I squint harder at it, and realize it’s a man raising his head, only to have to it fall again. He’s tied to a chair. It looks like he can barely move.
Who is that? What have they done? What are they going to do?
I claw my fingertips into the windowsill, watching. Salvatore and Snake start to move. I realize they’re heading to the door that leads to this alleyway. I frantically slide out of the tight space, and duck behind the side of the dumpster, out of sight.
The door clangs open, and I hear their heavy footsteps. I stop breathing and listen.
“All I’m saying is that we need to be absolutely sure before we strike at the Lombardi’s,” Snake says.
Sal doesn’t respond right away. The silence is tense and thick. I hear a lighter flick open, and soon smell cigarette smoke. Sal laughs, a cold, dull sound that makes my heart pound.
“Does Jess know you killed her fiancé?” Salvatore asks, casually.
I feel like I might faint. Darkness clouds my vision. I stumble, catching myself on the ragged metal edge of the dumpster. My hand is wet with blood, but I don’t register the pain. I struggle to stay alert. I need to hear this.
“You don’t think she’d be seeking revenge for that killing, would you?” Salvatore asks.
“No,” Snake says. His voice is cold, final.
“Glad you cleared that up,” Sal says. “I wasn’t sure if it was Jess, or Matt in there. Take my advice. Kill this guy, so everyone else can be sure too.”
I can’t see Snake’s face. I’m too scared to peek out. But I imagine his dark eyes turning to stone while his mind flips between his loyalty to the Mariano’s, or to me. I wonder which one he’ll choose this time.
They don’t say anything else before walking back inside. I hold my bleeding hand tightly against my chest to stop the flow. Moments later, a single gunshot rings out from inside. I lean against the cold metal dumpster, hollow on the inside, and trying to process what I’ve just learned. Snake killed Jake. He just killed another man who he knows is innocent. He didn’t kill Matt for the Mariano’s. He killed him for me.
The monster is loyal to me.
*
I take an Uber back to my apartment, where I begin to pack frantically. I can barely think straight. My hands tremble as I shove clothes and toiletries into a suitcase. I don’t have a plan. I have no idea what I’m doing. I have a vague idea of driving up the California coast, just driving, and fleeting thoughts of driving off a cliff. I can feel the weightlessness as the car sails through the air, and the impact as it smashes into the choppy ocean.
Jesus, I think, clutching a shampoo bottle. Is that my solution to everything? To end it all when I get too scared to fight.
I shake off these suicidal fantasies. I have to get out of here. I need to go anywhere. It doesn’t matter where, just somewhere far, far away. Salvatore knows too much. He knows about Jake, and my clear motive for wanting Monty dead. Does Sal know Matt’s completely innocent? Then why would he have Snake kill him?
It’s probably some kind of sick test of Snake’s loyalty, or a way of wearing Snake down so he’ll do their bidding again. I wouldn’t put it past Salvatore. The guy gives off a terrifying vibe. And those eyes- it makes me shudder just to picture them.
I keep packing. I spin from room to room, telling myself to only pack necessities. Though I’m moving around it a lot, it feels like I’m just spinning in circles. My emotional state isn’t much better. My moods swing from incredibly angry, to deeply depressed. I close my eyes and silently appeal to Jake.
I’m sorry I slept with your murderer. I didn’t know.
But you knew enough, a bitter voice responds.
I find myself in the kitchen clutching a handful of silverware. My phone rings, breaking me out of my trance. I duck behind the counter, as if the phone can see me. I quickly snap out of this delusion, and reach into my purse.
It’s my dad. I didn’t realize it was eight already.
“Hi, Dad. I’m great. Everything’s great.”
No matter how hard I try to sound chipper, my voice is monotone and empty. I sound like a robot. I swat my forehead when I realize I hadn’t waited for him to ask how I was doing before giving my canned response.
“Jess-“ Dad sounds worried. He breathes helplessly into the phone. “Is everything okay? You sound strange.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose to keep from crying. “I’m fine. Really.” The rising emotion in my chest pinches my voice. Have I completely forgotten how to lie?
I hear Dad sigh. “Jessica,” he says, his voice soft. The last time he called me Jessica was at Jake’s funeral. It brings back the memory of that day like a punch in the gut. I remember the dress I wore, black, knee length, with capped sleeves. I was pregnant at the time, though I didn’t know it. I’d attributed the nausea to all the stress I was going through.
Before I know it, I’m crouching on the kitchen floor, sobbing. It takes me a few moments to register Dad calling my name.
“Jessica,” he yells in an assertive tone. “Tell me what’s going on. Right now.”
I wipe my eyes and nose on my sleeve. “I thought I had everything figured out. I had a plan.”
“Oh, sweetheart. It’s not abnormal to have moments like this, when the grief catches up with you. You haven’t been drinking, have you?”
“No,” I say, the first completely honest response I’ve given in a while.
“Okay, okay,” he soothes. “This is just a bump in the road. You’ve been through quite a lot. But you’ve done wonderfully, sweetheart. You got sober, finished your degree, and landed a great job.”
My sobbing subsides. I lean back against the cabinets. “I’ve done it for all the wrong reasons. For stupid reasons that make no sense to anyone but me.”
Dad continues carefully. “Do you feel guilty for moving on when Jake can’t? You can’t think that way. Jake would want you to be happy.”
By screwing his murderer?
And not just screwing, but developing a deep, raging, red hot connection?
I take a deep breath, trying to regain my senses. I can’t worry my father, and have him try something crazy like coming down here.
“You’re right,” I concede. “I was just feeling a little sad, Dad. I’m better now.”
“I’d be worried if you didn’t get sad from time to time,” Dad chortles. “It’s only been a couple of years, which isn’t that long in the scheme of things. It can only get better from here. And maybe one day, you’ll meet a man, get married, and have everything you ever wanted.”
Everything I ever wanted. What is that? Was it to marry Jake, and live a sterile, whitewashed life in my high tower while men guarded me? Or is that what I thought I wanted. What do I want now?
After a few more pleasantries and fatherly advice, I get off the phone with Dad. My emotions have leveled off some, and I’m able to think more clearly.
What would Jake want me to do now?
Does it matter? He’s gone. I’m here. And so is Snake.
What do I want? Do I want to taste the sweetness of revenge, to make those responsible for Jake’s death suffer as much as I have?
Or do I want to allow myself to be happy? Forgive Snake, and see how things between us play out. Maybe even get a happily ever after.
Do I want to kill Snake? Or fuck Snake?
Without a clear answer in mind, I start searching the apartment. Snake took my gun after I attempted to kill Monty, and I haven’t been able to get it back. But he has so many weapons, and I’ve seen them left lying around the apartment before.
In the bedroom, I toss through the drawers that I reserved for Snake to use. I dig through his side of the closet. I look through every pair of pants he owns.
I drop to my knees and look under the bed. There, still in a holster, is a handgun.
I grab it.