Clean Slate (New Mafia Trilogy #2) (26 page)

           
“Yeah, but you rode with me,” I said.

           
“It’s not my first fucking rodeo, Grabano. Now go.”

I bristled at his tone
and stepped forward, my hands clenched into fists, but Grant intervened by
moving between us. “This is a shit show, let Egan handle his mess.”

There was a knock on
the door that further broke up the tension building in the room. I opened it a
crack. Dante was standing there with an armful of ratty blankets. A box of
garbage bags sat on top of the pile. I could see Veronica hovering in the
hallway behind him.

           
“I won’t need any of that stuff,” Egan said. “Send the
girl in when you leave.”

I knew then that
Veronica wouldn’t live to see the next day, probably not even the next hour.
She was an innocent in all of this and only involved because of her boyfriend.
I had my hand on the doorknob and Grant was behind me, ready to follow me out
when I froze. Veronica might as well have been Natalie and I’d be worse than my
uncle if I left her to die. He may have been an asshole, but at least he gave
Natalie an ultimatum.

           
“The girl lives and we do this my way.” I handed off the
blankets and garbage bags to Grant. “Get started on the clean-up, I’ll be right
back.”

Dante went into the
room and I left, taking Veronica into a guest bedroom across the hall. A twin
sized bed with a hideous orange and brown blanket draped over it was against
one wall. An avocado green dresser was against the opposite wall. Orange and
brown calico print curtains covered the windows, only revealing a sliver of the
outside world. Either Veronica was trapped in the 70’s or she inherited her
grandparent’s house.

           
“What’s going on?” she asked, her arms crossed.

           
“Big Tone is dead and Little Tone is going to die
tonight.” She gasped and covered her mouth with a hand. Her brown eyes were
huge as she processed these words. “You have a choice. You can either join them
or never tell a soul what went down here because if you do, you’ll end up dead
anyway.”

Veronica crossed the
room and sunk down on the edge of the bed. Springs creaked when she sat. “I
can’t believe this is happening,” she croaked out, cradling her head in her
hands.

           
“Well it is and I need your answer. What’s it gonna be?”

           
“I won’t say anything. I promise.”

           
“Good. Now we’ll clean this shit up and you won’t even
know we were here. I suggest you stay out of the way unless you want to see
something that can’t be unseen and remember: don’t tell anyone.”

           
“I won’t.” The girl was close to hyperventilating and
choking on tears when I left the room.
 

After we loaded the two
Tones into my trunk and cleaned up any evidence of Big Tone’s bludgeoning, I
placed five hundred dollars on the dining room table, tucking it beneath the
grease stained bucket of fried chicken. Veronica hadn’t moved from the bed in
her guest room. She was no longer hyperventilating and was more catatonic;
staring at a blank spot on the wall, mascara stained cheeks glistening in the
light spilling in from the hallway.

           
“You should have let me kill the bitch,” Egan said once
we were in the car and heading back to the city.

           
“I have my reasons for keeping her alive.”

           
“What, that you’re a pussy?”

It took me mere seconds
to pull my car over, slam on the brakes and slam my fist into Egan’s face. He
may pride himself on his bare knuckle boxing reputation, but it only took one
punch for me to draw blood and two punches to break his nose. Before he could
even retaliate, I had my gun pressed against his temple. “I am not a fucking
pussy. Are we clear on that? ” I growled.

Egan coughed, emitting
a spray of blood and nodded, but I kept my gun aimed at him. “If I didn’t need
our business deal so bad, I’d kill you Grabano. Are we clear on that?” He pressed
the bottom of his shirt against his nose.

           
“Crystal.” I took a deep breath and put my gun back in the
holster before putting the car in drive and pulling away from the shoulder of
the road.

The rest of the trip
was uneventful and silent. We dumped Big Tone’s body in the same garbage strewn
patch of land by the airport where Uncle Marco was found. Yellow crime scene
tape still flickered in the cold wind. Little Tone was hauled out of the trunk,
his face three shades lighter than usual and his clothes soaked in his cousin’s
blood. Grant forced him to his knees and Little Tone fell forward into the
partially frozen mud, unable to brace his fall since his hands were duct taped
together behind him. Grant hoisted him back up. I stepped before Little Tone
and his eyes followed the barrel of my gun as I raised it. His whimpers and
pleading were muffled by the duct tape over his mouth, but he wouldn’t be able
to talk himself out of anything. A plane roared overhead and I pulled the
trigger, the 747’s engines drowning out the gun shot. Little Tone slumped
sideways, his eyes open in a vacant stare before he hit the ground.

We deliberately left
the bodies in this spot as a message to other Marco loyalists and I hoped the
message was received.

LOS
ANGELES

NATALIE

Valentine’s Day arrived
a week after Jason and I started officially dating. Fortunately it fell on a
Monday, a day that Dirty was closed. It was a little after four in the
afternoon and I hadn’t even started getting ready for our dinner date when
there was a knock on the door. Chelsea wasn’t home from work yet, so I rolled
off of the futon to answer.

I recognized the brown
uniform of the UPS driver through the peephole and opened the door.

           
“Natalie Ross?” the woman asked.

           
“Yep, that’s me.”

She handed me a
package, which I signed for before shutting the door and locking it again. I
recognized the return address as Crimson’s. Curiosity got the best of me and I
started tearing at the packing tape before I reached the kitchen where the scissors
were stored in the top “catch all” drawer.

After getting the box
open, I pulled away a layer of brown paper to reveal the contents. A card
rested on top of a box of chocolates, which was placed on top of a small
Styrofoam cooler. I opened the card and sagged against the counter, the simple
message inside making my knees weak:

           
Natalie,

           
Although we’re apart, you’re always
my Valentine and will forever possess my heart.

           
I’ve sent you a reminder of home,
where I wait for your return.
 

           
Love,

           
Dom

I pulled the cooler out
and struggled with the top until it finally surrendered with a squeak. Inside,
wrapped in thick plastic freezer bags and surrounded by blocks of dry ice, were
a dozen Philadelphia soft pretzels and cannoli from Termini Brothers. I laughed
and immediately put a pretzel in the microwave. This was such a different
present than the diamond tennis bracelet Dom gave me last year, but the
pretzels, a core Philly food staple for me and the cannoli, which he liked to
hand feed me, held more meaning. One of those times, the cream filling led to
mind-blowing sex on the living room floor. My body warmed at the thought. Stop
it, Nat, you’re getting ready for a date with Jase, remember? I chastised
myself.

In lieu of sexy
thoughts about Dom, I stuffed my face with the pretzel instead, surprised that
it still tasted fresh despite being a couple of days old and having been sent
across the country. I left a pretzel out on the counter for Chelsea before
putting the rest of the food in the freezer then grabbed the chocolates and
card, hiding them in the bottom drawer of my dresser. Jason didn’t need to see
Valentine’s Day presents from my ex kicking around.

I was in the shower
when Chelsea came home. She barged into the bathroom and held her half-eaten
pretzel above the shower curtain. “Where did this come from?” she asked while
still chewing.

           
“Dom. He sent cannoli too.”

           
“Wow. Does he know you’re with Jason now?” she asked.

           
“Uh, no, but do you let your exes know when you enter a
new relationship?”

           
“No, but you should tell him. He’s definitely not someone
you want to piss off,” she said.

           
“Please, he would never hurt me. Now go away.” I flung
water at her from the shower and she shrieked and quickly left after that, the
door clicking closed behind her leaving me alone with my guilt.

My reasons for not
telling Dom about me and Jason were completely selfish. I liked hearing from
Dominic and didn’t want that to stop. Being apart made me remember the good
things about our relationship and the bad things, which all stemmed from Marco,
were fading into the background. A stinging pain broke through my thoughts.
Wincing, I looked down to see I had cut my leg while shaving. Shaking off
memories of Dominic, I focused on the date ahead with Jason.

Chelsea and I finished
getting ready for our dates. We stood side by side in front of the bathroom
mirror. Our routine was well established after so many years of living
together; she would use the hair dryer or straightener and then we’d switch.
We’d lean forward at the same time, to get up close to the mirror when we
applied our mascara; it seemed almost choreographed.

           
“Hey, tomorrow night let’s hang out. Just us so we can
talk and chill,” Chelsea said as she closed up her mascara and tossed it back
in her cosmetic case. She looked at me in the mirror.

           
“I like that plan.”

I sprayed Euphoria
perfume on my wrists then passed the bottle to Chelsea and that was the end of
our routine. We filed out of the bathroom, she turned left to go to her bedroom
and I turned right to get my shoes that were by the futon.
 

I was stepping into my
heels when there was a light knock at the door. I peered through the peephole
to see a distorted Jason and Derek standing outside, each holding a dozen red
roses. After running my hands over the skirt of my dress to smooth out any
wrinkles, I opened the door and let the boys in. Derek went back to Chelsea’s
bedroom. Jason handed me the bouquet and I felt a blush creep up my neck.

           
“What’s this, are you embarrassed?” he asked, cupping my
cheek.

           
“Kind of - does this seem weird to you? I mean we were
friends and now...” I shrugged my shoulders and looked down at my roses,
feeling even more awkward since I wasn’t saying things right.

           
“Not weird at all. Besides we know each other in ways
normal friends don’t. If you know what I mean.” he said with a smile, his teeth
brilliant white against tan skin, before he leaned in and kissed me. “Now let’s
go eat. I’m starving.” Jason plucked the roses out of my hand and walked into
the kitchen. I couldn’t help but notice how his gray dress pants hugged his ass
or how the black dress shirt fit his shoulders just right. I may have been
conflicted, but not blind. After opening a few a cabinets, he found a vase
underneath the sink and filled it with water. He stuck the bouquet in, ribbons
and all and left it on the counter.

He reached for my hand
and we left the apartment. Jason held the door of his BMW open for me. Sand was
on the passenger seat.

           
“Oh, my bad,” he said with a grin and swept the sand onto
the floor mat where half a beach worth was collecting. “Collin and I went
surfing earlier,” he explained as I slid inside the car, which smelled faintly
of the beach; a combination of sunscreen and salt. As I twisted to put on the
seatbelt, I saw a crumpled up beach towel on the seat behind Jason.

He drove us to a
steakhouse in West Los Angeles, not too far from my apartment. From the
outside, the restaurant didn’t look like much as it was sandwiched between a
Pizza Hut and an automotive repair shop. The thin strip of parking lot was
cracked and split like the surface of a gingersnap cookie. Once we stepped
inside, it was like going from the ghetto to Beverly Hills. Hardwood floors
shined, reflecting the soft lighting and looking clean enough to eat off of.
Walls, the color of buttermilk, were cast in a glow from the accent lights.
Mirrors with dark wood frames lined the walls above large booths covered in
cream suede. All the tables were topped with white tablecloths and napkins.
Tables in the middle of the dining room were accompanied by dark wood chairs
with seats upholstered in the same suede as the booths. Everything was clean,
yet rich and the ambience reminded me a lot of Butter, the restaurant in Philly
that Dante managed.

The restaurant was busy,
but Jase had made reservations so we were immediately led to an intimate table
for two. A candle flickered in a unique glass candle holder that doubled as a
stand for the wine list, which Jason immediately grabbed and began to review
with his eyebrows drawn together in concentration.

           
“What do you like?” he asked.

           
“I don’t know. We’re having steak so probably a red. You
pick.” I knew Jason spent a lot of time in Napa with his dad and was far more
knowledgeable on wines than I.

Our server came up and when
Jason requested a specific cabernet sauvignon, our server’s eyebrows raised.
After checking our IDs and confirming we were in fact old enough to drink the
juice, he rushed off and returned moments later with our bottle. He opened it
with a flourish and had Jason go through the tasting process, before he finally
filled our glasses. In the past, I probably would have gulped down my first
glass, just to feel the soothing burn of my muscles relaxing, but this
particular wine was too good for chugging and it’s rich flavor with hints of
chocolate and blackberries forced me to slow down, savoring each sip.

Dinner was simple, but
delicious: grilled rib eye, garlic mashed potatoes and asparagus with
hollandaise sauce. We chatted about work and Chelsea and Derek’s wedding. They
had set a date for next June, but Chelsea was already in full-on preparation
mode. She had taken my measurements already since she was designing and making
all of the dresses. “Chelsea has bridezilla potential,” I joked.

           
“How do you feel about them moving in together?”

           
“What do you mean?”

           
“Shit, Chelsea hasn’t told you?” Jason chewed on the edge
of his thumbnail and looked across the table at me. “Well, uh, apparently they
found a bungalow that’s a lease to own option.”

           
“Oh.” I took a sip of wine. “She hasn’t said anything.
When are they moving- do you know?”

           
“The beginning of the month.”

           
“Wait, March? As in fourteen days?” I sat back in my
chair with such force the wood creaked. Why hadn’t Chelsea told me and was I
going to have to move?

           
“I’m sorry, I thought you knew,” Jason said, as if
sensing the emotional turmoil whirling around inside my head. “If you’re
worried about taking over the lease, you can move in with me, if you want?”

I stared at him,
waiting for him to break out in a shit-eating grin and tell me he was kidding.
The longer I stayed silent, the more his face dropped and he looked away. Shit,
he was serious.

           
“Jase, we’ve been together a week. I can’t move in with
you. That’s ridiculous.”

           
“I don’t think so. We get along well enough, plus there’s
the whole maid service benefit.”

           
“Great perk, but my answer is still no. It’s way too soon
to think about living together,” I said.

           
“Fine, but keep it as an option.”

Our server broke up the
tension when he came around to clear our plates, leaving us with a
complimentary tray of four chocolate dipped strawberries, which we quickly
devoured. Jason didn’t mention our living arrangements again and I decided not
to dwell on it and ruin our date.

After dinner we drove
to the Santa Monica Pier. Since it was Monday, the amusement park was closed,
but there were still a lot of people out despite the cool evening, especially a
lot of couples. We stopped alongside the railing, looking at the boats bobbing
in the harbor. A wind coming off the ocean made me shiver, so Jason stood
behind me and wrapped in his warmth. I rested my head against his chest and
stared out at the night sky. It was so peaceful listening to the waves gently
lapping at the pilings below and it seemed like time stood still; if not for
the slow crawl of a ship on the horizon or the lights from a plane flying
overhead, blinking against a backdrop of stars.

Jason turned me around
in his arms so I was facing him and lowering his head, he nuzzled my neck,
placing soft kisses below my ear inciting a riot of goose bumps. I stopped his
progress by seeking out his mouth with mine. He hugged me close, practically
lifting me off my feet. I moaned when my nipples, already hard and sensitive
from the cold, crushed against his chest. The friction of material against skin
left me wanting to rip our clothes off.

A hand ran up my leg,
disappearing underneath my dress and we were approaching public indecency when
I pulled away. I was thankful we picked a location in between two streetlamps,
just outside the sphere of light from either one so we were shrouded in
shadows.

           
“I’ve wanted to kiss you all night,” Jason said as he
tugged me against him, seeking out my lips again. This time he kept his hands
on top of my dress, looping his arms around my waist in a loose embrace and I
did the same to him, slipping my hands in his back pockets. Each kiss was an
ember, creating a slow burn inside. By the time we separated, my lips were
swollen and hot. “I know you want to go slow, but it’s killing me since I know
every inch of you already.”

I knew every inch of
him too, intimately, and he had been very respectful of my wish to take things
slow all week. Oh, who was I kidding? I was horny. “We’ve gone slow enough.
Let’s go back to my place,” I said.