Clean Slate (New Mafia Trilogy #2) (32 page)

PHILADELPHIA

DOMINIC

I met the realtor in
front of the building. It was one of the first warm days of spring and the
sidewalks were packed with people, mostly workers out for their lunch breaks heading
to nearby restaurants and hot dog carts. There were a few cherry trees lining the
street and they were in full bloom, loaded with light pink blossoms, a reminder
of nature against the backdrop backdrop of commercial buildings. The realtor, a
family friend of my dad’s, shook my hand, giving it an honest squeeze. Not one
of those limp handshakes that makes me want to wipe my hand on my pants
afterward.

           
“Dom, good to see you. How’s your dad?” Bill asked.

           
“He’s good. Busy with that casino project.”

           
“Oh I bet. Come on, let’s take a look. What are you
thinking about putting in here?” Bill unlocked the glass door and held it open
for me. I stepped inside the empty space. Aside from the door, two storefront
windows that looked out onto Walnut Street provided ample natural lighting.
Bill flipped a switch and the overhead fluorescent lights came on with a low
hum. The space was one of several unfinished commercially zoned spaces on the
first floor of a new condominium building. The ceilings were high and painted
white like the walls, making the space appear larger than it actually was.

           
“If all goes well, this will be a gallery. How many
square feet is this?”

           
“1,800 and we have another one that is 2,200 but it
doesn’t face Walnut Street.”

           
“And this is $350,000 right?”

           
“Yes and you’d own the space. It’s not a lease option.”

I walked around, the
soles of my boots scraping on the concrete floors. There was ample wall space,
but my eyes were drawn to the windows and the amount of foot traffic passing
by. Across the street a bistro and a coffee house were busy. The condo building
itself was 90% sold. Putting a business in here was a no-brainer.

           
“I’ll take it, draw up the papers.”

           
“Cash as usual, I assume?” Bill asked.

           
“Of course,” I said and shook his hand. “Let’s do this.”

My next stop was St.
Pius Elementary School a few blocks south of Broad Street in South Philly. I
found parking across the street from the concrete and brick monstrosity. Upon
seeing the school, I instantly flashed back to the day I was first punished by
Sister Maria for getting in a fight with Tommy Santore on the playground. She
had broken up the fight, descending upon us in her black suit like a dark bird,
her hands held out like talons. She had correctly deduced I was the instigator
so she dragged me to her classroom and forced me to clean every desk surface
with bleach. I had to repeat the process at the end of the day after all of the
other students had already boarded the buses and gone home. My eyes burned the
rest of that night and the stench of bleach was stuck inside my nose for a
week. My mom was pissed that I had ruined a school uniform. The navy pants had
a torn knee and blood from my bloody nose had dripped onto the white shirt.

Sister Maria was now
the principal and my generous donation to the school, that helped pay for field
trips, paved the way for this meeting. I walked through the gray-blue doors
into the main entrance. The school still smelled the same; a mixture of tater
tots and crayons. I found my way to the administrative offices like it was
yesterday that I attended school; the art work on the walls may have changed,
but the layout was still the same.

When I entered Sister
Maria’s office, she stood and walked around her desk, crossing the small room
to shake my hand. She seemed genuinely pleased to see me, her smile replacing
the scowl I was so familiar with when I was a student. With the exception of
gray hair and a few wrinkles, she looked the same. It was slightly unnerving.

           
“Dominic, please have a seat,” she gestured toward two
vinyl chairs facing her desk, which was covered with stacks of file folders and
a large computer monitor that had to be at least ten years old.

Once we were both
seated, Sister Maria didn’t waste any time with small chat. “Can you tell me
why you’re interested in the particular position we spoke about? If you’re considering
a career change, your background more than disqualifies you.”

           
“I know of someone who would be perfect, but she’s out of
state right now. All I ask is that you hold off on hiring anyone until you meet
her. She’ll be in the city in less than three weeks.”

Sister Maria regarded
me from across the desk, her tapping fingers providing a rhythm for her
contemplation. “Considering I haven’t even posted the position yet, I can
wait,” she finally said.

           
“Excellent – thanks.” I stood up and prepared to leave.

           
“How did you find out about the job anyway?”

           
“I have my ways,” I said with a wink and left.

Everything was falling
into place: the violence was slowing down and things were relatively calm,
Marco loyalists had been dealt with, the feds seemed to have backed off, unless
they were getting better at surveillance, and I’d lined up two enticing
opportunities for Natalie. I only had to wait a couple of weeks to find out if
either one would provide enough reason for her to stay.

LOS
ANGELES

NATALIE

It was the night before
my flight back to Philadelphia and Chelsea was over helping me pack. Being the
organization queen, she folded and rolled my clothes so they took up less
space. Every time I went to add something she stopped me and refolded the item.

           
“I can pack myself, you know.” I said.

           
“Look at all the extra space you have now. Oh, you need
to take these shoes!” She grabbed a pair of red stilettos that I had only worn
once and it was for a special theme night at Crimson.

           
“Why do I need those?”

           
“Because they’re hot and they’d go great with that black
and white dress we packed.”

           
“Is this why you wanted to help? So you can micro manage
my outfits from afar?” I teased.

Chelsea feigned that
she was hurt by gasping and dramatically placing her hand on her chest. I
laughed at her and watched as she tucked the stilettos in a side pocket of the
suitcase. I was truly grateful for her help since she was the one that got paid
for her fashion sense. “That should do it,” she said and turned to me.
Chelsea’s blonde hair was lighter from her time in the sun surfing with Derek
and her usual fair skin had a golden hue, which was further accented by the
ivory tank she wore. The glow was more than from the sun though; Chelsea exuded
happiness.

           
“You’re happy, aren’t you Chels?”

My question surprised
her and she frowned slightly, biting her lower lip. “Yes, Nat, I am. Derek’s
amazing and I love my job. The traffic here can suck it, but other than that I
think I’ve found my place.” She smiled and her face lit up.

           
“I can tell. I’m so happy for you.” The tears snuck up on
me and Chelsea pulled me into one of her bone crushing hugs. She rubbed my back
and I held on tight.

           
“You’ll find your place, Nat.”

           
“I know and I’m not going to force or rush things. I’m
good.” It was true. What a difference seven months made. I was no longer hiding
out and looking over my shoulder. I also wasn’t dependent on anyone for help.
I’d become a stronger more independent person and while I may not have found my
place in the world yet, I was well on my way to finding myself.

           
“Good.” She gave me one final squeeze then let me go.

Chelsea left soon after
that and I started getting ready for bed. Victor was taking me to the airport
in the morning and I had to wake up early. Of course sleep was elusive as
thoughts about what was waiting for me in Philadelphia kept my brain occupied.

The next day was sunny
and clear, perfect for a trip. Victor arrived on time and loaded up my suitcase
in the trunk of his Audi. The muscles on his back rippled underneath his
t-shirt when he picked up my luggage.

           
“What the hell did you pack?” he asked.

           
“Are you saying I have a lot of baggage?” I asked,
batting my eyelashes at him.

He grinned. “No, I’m
thinking you’ve got a body in there.”

           
“You’re hilarious. I’m traveling across the country to
attend a wedding. Of course I’m going to pack a lot of shit.”

           
“Your baggage fee is going to be insane.”

           
“I’ll deal with it.”

           
“So, are you ready?”

           
“Yes, I think so.”

It didn’t take too long
to get to the airport and Victor snagged a spot in front of my terminal. Before
I got out, he reached over and opened up the glove box to pull out a large
yellow colored envelope that was fairly bulky.

           
“This is a wedding present for Grant from Gio. Can you
give it to him?”

I hesitated before
taking the envelope. “This doesn’t have like drugs or someone’s finger in it
does it?”

Victor laughed and
shook his head. “No, nothing like that. This is a straight up legit present.”

           
“Okay then, I’ll give it to Grant.” I placed the envelope
in my carry-on bag and stepped out of the car. Victor grabbed my suitcase and
set it down next to me.

           
“Well, have a safe trip, Princess.” He gave me a hug.
“Let me know if you need me to be your airport shuttle when you get back.”

           
“I will. Thanks for the ride.” I walked away and looked
back once, but Victor was already gone.

It was only when I was
on the plane and we had cleared the smog bank, that it really hit: I was going
back to Philadelphia, back to where it all began.

-END-

Endings
& Beginnings – Book Three of The New Mafia Trilogy

Coming
soon…

Acknowledgments

I seriously wouldn’t
have made it this far without the unfailing support of my parents and family,
especially “my boys” - my husband Steve and son Matt who have to deal with my
distracted state the most – thank you for your encouragement and love. To my
“Lit Bitches” Shannon, Beth, and Liz, I couldn’t have asked for better beta
readers. To the fabulous ladies of my writers group, Marlee and Nicole, through
the years as our friendship has grown, our writing has too. Thanks to the
awesome Maine writers community for continuing to inspire.

I’d like to extend a
big thank you to Uel Gardner with Weaponcraft for sharing his knowledge on firearms.
Gordon, thank you for your insight on the Southern California surf scene,
writing about it helped me to get through a long, miserably cold Maine
winter.
 
To all of my friends and readers,
thank you for your support. Your positive response to
The Beautiful People
helped me to keep on dreaming and writing.
 

About the Author

E.J. Fechenda has lived
in Philadelphia, Phoenix and now calls Portland, Maine home where she is a
wife, stepmom, and pet parent all while working full time. Crazy is how she likes
it.

E.J. has a degree in
Journalism from Temple University and her short stories have been published in
Suspense Magazine
, the 2010 and 2011
Aspiring Writers Anthologies, and in the
Indies Unlimited 2012 Flash Fiction Anthology.
In addition to writing The
New Mafia Trilogy, she is working on The Ghosts Stories Trilogy. E.J. is a
member of the Maine Writers and Publishers Alliance and co-founder of the
fiction reading series, “Lit: Readings & Libations”, which is held
quarterly in Portland.

E.J.
can be found on the internet here:

Facebook:
https://www.facebook.com/EJFechendaAuthor

Twitter
@ebusjaneus (
https://twitter.com/ebusjaneus
)

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