turn green, and my eyes catch movement to my right. It’s a small Italian water ice shop. A few kids are standing out front with their parents leaning into the window to order. I hear their little screams of joy as they each dig into their treats.
Their life is normal; I wonder if they do that every Friday night. We used to go to the ice cream parlor a few blocks away when we were younger. Melissa talked about how she would keep up the tradition with her kids when she bought her house close to where we grew up.
The light turns green and I slowly move along. I’ll never have that again. I don't see how I can ever have a normal life. How can life go on when you’ve suffered that type of tragedy? My mother’s doped up on antidepressants. I’m surprised she didn’t go back to coke. She’s barely a shell of a human being. My father took off when I was young, so I don’t even know him. So now I’m just … alone. Chasing what may be a ghost. But I won’t stop looking until I know for sure.
I pull into my spot and put the car in park. The street light is shining down perfectly, and the entrance to my building is only a few feet away. I make a quick exit and enter the building and only breathe once I’ve made it upstairs. I can’t help that I feel this way. It’s late, it’s dark. Nothing good happens at this time of night.
I climb the stairs and make my way to my place. I take a look out of the peephole and expect to see someone watching, but I don’t. There’s no one there. I wish this paranoia would leave me. It’s only been this bad for a few days, ever since I saw Thomas. The reminder brings me back to my sole purpose.
I lock the front door and walk calmly to my bedroom. The necklace is on my dresser. I pick it up and open the little oval locket.
I want to end this for her.
I have a feeling in my gut that Thomas Valetti is the next step. I always follow my intuition, and it’s clearly pushing me to talk to him. I feel like I already know the truth, but I just need to hear him say it.
If I can just get an in with Thomas, I know he’ll lead me to something.
Tommy
“I mean, what’s the worst they can do?” The Bratva may be pissed we took a shipment from them, but they should’ve known better than to assume Petrov could speak on our behalf. Apparently they did make that assumption though, and now they’re saying we owe them. I lean back a bit on the bar stool and look around. We’re in the bistro now, just chatting it up.
“They could come here, but I doubt they will. Too much effort,” Kane says. Most of the guys are here, bullshitting and having a drink. I like Kane. He's new to the familia, but he knows his shit and he's good at what he does. Which right now is taking over my position.
“It’s not the loss of one shipment, it’s their entire trade structure that they have to rebuild. A few million in revenue,” Vince says from across the bar. I cross my arms and take it in. They haven’t threatened us, but they made it clear they were pissed.
“It’s not our fault they were doing all their shit through Petrov,” Joey says.
“Maybe sending his body to them instead of the women wasn’t the way to go?” Anthony’s question has a few of the men chuckling.
“I’m not sure it’s even worth replying. It’s not like we do business with these people.” I offer up my opinion. We keep our trades to Mexico, and that’s it. The new dealer there is low-key and reasonable. Nice and easy. None of this overseas shit.
“We need to respond with something.” Vince takes another drink and adds, “I want this to be a clean break away from them, but I sure as shit am not buying them off.” They want 2 million for their hardship, which is bullshit, and I know Vince isn’t going to pay them. It's quiet for a few minutes.
“Fuck ‘em,” he finally says, “let ‘em come to us. Tony’s got eyes on their contacts here. We’ll know they're coming before they strike.” He puts his glass down and pulls out his phone. I