view of the busy street. Yellow and white lights hang from the ceiling, and there are roses and lilies in decorative glass vases on each table. This little section is made for the high rollers who reserve it, and people have to call months in advance to book it. Tonight, I made sure the place was empty just for us.
“So, how has work been so far?” I ask to start up the conversation.
“It’s been okay. Paperwork and training. New girl stuff. How was your day?”
“My day was fine. I was excited to get to hang out with you again. I’m still trying to convince myself I’m not dreaming about you being here.”
“I know, it’s hard to believe for me, too,” she says, sipping her white wine. “So, how’s your mom been doing? I was so shocked that you still had my letter that I forgot to ask about her last time.”
“I haven’t talked to her in a while,” I admit, although I hate that it’s true. “We haven’t been as close as we used to be since dad died. I don’t think she likes that I got into the same business as him. She always wanted me to avoid it, but once dad died . . . that just wasn’t something I could do.”
“I see. That’s too bad. Did they ever find the guy that . . . you know.”
I don’t know how to answer the question. Even mentioning Sammy Cestone, the man who killed my father, still makes my blood boil even though I know he’s gone. So, I end up going with the default answer.
“Nah, they didn’t.”
But I did.
After my father’s murder, I think I went crazy for a little while. I couldn’t stand to see him like that—slumped over in his seat with bullet holes in his face, and it took everything in me to get over it. I didn’t really get there until the day Sammy Cestone went to Australia.
I waited a year before I let myself act on the revenge I was aching for. I was a blood-thirsty sixteen year old looking to make a name for myself—a name better than Boy Wonder.
So, I stepped in my father’s place at River City just as a plan was put in place to add a new parking area across the street. The day before the parking lot was to be poured, I met Sammy Cestone at his house after he dropped off his son at school. I’d been watching him do the same routine for two weeks straight, and I knew when I walked into his run down little apartment, he’d be all alone. I shot him in the face with one of my dad’s guns. Three shots, just like what he did to my father. Then I buried his body in the spot where the concrete for the parking lot was poured the next day. So, Sammy went to Australia, meaning he is literally down under. I take pride in the fact that I get to drive by his permanent grave on my way to River City, where I stay in the penthouse suite on the top floor. They never found Sammy, and they never will.
“So, what about you, Alannah?” I start again, making sure to quickly move on from the topic of Sammy Cestone. “Be honest; what made you decide to come back here after all this time? Alaska too cold for you?”
“Yeah, it was, actually,” she says behind an adorable giggle. “It’s cold as hell there, but like I told you before, I never wanted to leave St. Louis.”
“There’s more to it than that. You were gone for ten years, you went to college and got a degree, you already had a nursing gig, and you said you were dating even though it was nothing serious. So, why uproot your life to come back to St. Louis? I really wanna know.”
She hesitates to think. I don’t know what the answer is, but I know what I’m hoping for, and maybe that’s a bit crazy. Maybe it’s na?ve of me to think she came back here for me after a decade. Then again, I was still thinking about her after ten years, so it’s not impossible. I wait impatiently, sipping my wine so I don’t look so anxious.
“Okay,” she says after a big, deep exhale. “I came back because I never wanted to leave . . . and because I needed to know what happened to you. There was a lot of stuff on the