An Unfinished Life (25 page)

After listening to one too many voicemails from Max, I deleted the rest. I scrolled down the numbers to see if Sara had called, but she didn’t. The picture of Sara that graced my desk was staring back at me. This one was taken on the day she was declared cancer-free.

I could have taken Sara anywhere in the world to celebrate, but she was simple and had chosen a picnic in the park. We spread out our blanket and took in the gorgeous sunny day in Lincoln Park where the Chicago skyline was our view. The warmth from the sun felt like heaven on my face.

It had been a long time that I allowed myself to feel any joy since her diagnosis, but today was different. She never gave up on her faith and knew that she would be okay. The doctors had caught it early enough, but I never allowed myself to believe in a positive outcome. Anytime you hear the word cancer, it sounds like a death sentence, no matter how many ways you spin it.

Sara made me believe that we would make it, and once again she was right. She was leaning back on her elbows, basking in the sun. Her floppy hat was moving with the wind, and she never looked more beautiful. I took a couple of pictures of her before she covered her face with her hat. She always blushed and had that natural rosiness to her cheeks. I never wanted her to hide, especially around me. She was my angel, and I would never want anyone else.

“Please come back to me baby, please.”

The knock at my door was my saving grace.

“Come in,” I called out as I placed her picture back in its rightful place. “Oh, fuck! Not today, Max.”

“I’m sorry, boss. He followed me down here,” Tommy said regretfully. I waved him off to go back to the bar while I watched Max enter and place down my food tray.

“Where the fuck have you been?” he shouted as he slammed the door behind Tommy.

“Excuse me? Be careful, Max. You don’t want to go there with me.”

“Yeah, I do my friend. I’m already there and have been since you left for California. You’ve been gone for days and with no word to me. Get it together, Jackie, and pull yourself out of this hole that you are drowning in.”

“I’m trying, Max.”

“Well, try harder, because you are doing a piss poor job at convincing me that you are okay. You can’t be going off the grid like this, Jack! Not one person other than your boy upstairs knew where you were. How the hell did you get back here without me seeing you?”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m here now, so calm the fuck down and let me eat in peace.”

“Fine! I’ll wait. You look like shit by the way.”

I said nothing in return and silently ate my steak. I took my time and savored every bite. Once I was done, I opened the Chianti that Tommy had chosen to accompany my meal. It was my favorite wine that I always enjoyed sharing with Sara, but I wasn’t going there at the moment, not when I had Max staring me down. I swear this guy can pass for a statue. His eyes weren’t even moving.

“Okay, Max, say your peace and then get the hell out.”

“I won’t be dismissed again, Jack, so maybe you should watch your tone. When did you get back into town?” he asked with a calmer but stern tone.

“A couple of nights ago. Why do you care?”

“Because I care about you, Jack, and I can’t protect you if I don’t know where the hell you are.”

“Protect me from what? There is nothing I can’t handle, Max. I’ve traveled down the darkest paths of hell and have come out the other side. I can handle things on my own, so drop it.”

“No, you can’t, Jack! And you haven’t been able to in a long time. You proved that with the photographer you let go. Your judgment is clouded. You are not thinking clearly and are putting yourself in an unsafe position, so I took care of it.”

I grabbed hold of my desk, nearly white knuckling it and leaned toward Max.

“What did you take care of?”

“Something that should have been done years ago. Your world is righted again, my friend, and now you will sleep easier knowing that justice has finally been served.”

“No! Please tell me you didn’t do what I think you did.”

“Not me personally, but it is done, Jack. He was a threat and needed to be silenced once and for all. Here, take it. The proof is all there in black and white.”

I took the folder that Max handed to me and crashed back down into my chair. Prison statuses on Michael St. Clair. Although he was denied parole requests at the time of his sentencing, his father and new lawyer had that overturned. A scheduled meeting was to take place next month. I flipped through more papers, and that’s when my eyes focused on two sheets of phone transcripts, prison calls to his father all detailing his manic delusions about Nicolette. The first one read:

“I’ll be free soon, father, and then I will go to her.”

“Michael, please, you must stop this now. You never had a future with Nicolette, and you never will. For years I have begged you to stop this madness, but yet you continue to darken your thoughts, which will only lead to more heartache for you.”

“You’re wrong father. I’ve had time to reflect these last years, and it doesn’t matter what she said to me that day in the courtroom. I forgive her. We will begin again far away from Simon, her family, and all who have stood in our way from being together. She will have my child again inside of her body, and then I will know that she will never leave me again.”

“Michael, I can’t help you anymore. I’ve done all I can and yet you still won’t listen to me. I’m finished here, and you are on your own, my son.”

There were several more pages with conversations like this one with his father, and then all communication with his father dropped off. The last transcription I read was between Michael, and his lawyer:

“I will join you at your hearing, but your father will not be in attendance. If, by the grace of God, you are released, then you will be remanded to a private facility in Europe where your father has made arrangements for you to get well. Is this clear to you?”

“Crystal, but I thought I was cut off? Now the old man wants to help me? He just can’t decide when it’s convenient for him to be a father to me and when it’s not. I am a grown man, and I don’t need his help. I will be fine on my own.”

“And I guess that goes without saying that you will also be fine without his money? Because it’s his financial support that pays my retainer, Michael, and without your father’s support and mine, then you don’t have a chance in hell at making it on the outside if you are released.”

“Wrong again. I will survive, because I will have Nicolette back where she belongs…with me! Once I have her, you will never have to worry about me again, and you can tell that to my father.”

That was the last of the conversation transcripts. I was right. I had been all along, and not one person believed me. He never changed or even tried to reform into a better man. He spent all this time plotting his way back to my girl, and I had the proof sitting here in my hands.

Max was silently looking at me, waiting for a reaction. I was numb again, and it wasn’t from alcohol. The pounding from my heart was making my chest hurt. He didn’t say the words, but at that moment looking at Max, I knew…Michael St. Clair was dead.

“Max, I…”

“It’s done, Jack. Let’s leave sleeping dogs where they lie.”

“NO!” I screamed.

I knocked over my desk, sending everything on it, including Sara’s picture, to smash on the floor. Max toppled over in shock as I lunged for him.

“You sonofabitch! You took my choice away from me, and you can tell me that it’s over? It’s just beginning, Max. How the hell could you betray me like this? You knew above anyone else how much I have been tortured over him, and I was prevaricating the inevitable. He was never to be touched by anyone but me! And you took that away from me! How could you, Max?”

My hands were fisted on his collar as he tried to break free, but he was no match against me. I released him with a shove to the wall. He slumped down to catch his breath.

“Jackie, please understand what position you placed the family in. We knew we had to have your back and still protect not just you, but the family. If something were to happen to you, like getting caught murdering someone in prison, then the legacies of Johnny Carlucci would have never let any one of us live. He loved you like a son, and this is why you are feared to this day on the streets—not just because of who you are, but because of what you meant to him. Even in death, he is still looking out for you.”

“Fuck that, Max! I didn’t ask him to. And you don’t know anything about my relationship with Johnny, so don’t even try. What I did for him has cost me in more ways than you can ever imagine. My wounds are still bleeding and will never heal. The one act I could have control over, you took away from me. Michael St. Clair was mine to deal with, not yours.”

“Then you should have taken him out when you had the chance, but you let your brother, your wife, and the love you have for your daughter manipulate you, control you, and change you. We still respected you, Jack, but hell if we understood you! This is over. A promise has been fulfilled, and now it’s up to you how you move forward. But whatever you do, stay the hell out of California. You need to stay here. Just be seen, and we will take care of the rest.”

I had no words left to say to Max. I turned away and leaned against the wall with my palms flat to the surface. He was behind me and stuffed a piece of paper in my pocket. And then the door closed. I took the paper and read the words that were written on them:

Another thing he had done for me. Max located Sara, and all I had to do was bring her home. My stomach flipped, and I grabbed the wastebasket, where I vomited everything that was in my stomach, booze and all, until I had nothing left.

Some time had passed and another knock was at my door. Tommy came in and told me the bar was now closed. He easily picked up my desk and began picking everything up from the floor. After removing the jagged pieces of glass from the frame, he handed me my picture of Sara and helped me up.

“What else can I do, boss?”

Another person in my life that wanted to help me, no matter how much I protested to it.

“You know, don’t you?” I asked Tommy as he handed me the papers that marked the beginning of the end of Michael St. Clair.

“Yes.”

“And? You agree with the decision that was made?”

“I do, and I believe that once you get some rest, you will come to the same conclusion. It’s over, boss. It’s over.”

I got up and took a look around to make sure nothing was missed, and then I turned to leave my office with Tommy following. He was wrong. Max was wrong. I may have not been the one to deliver the fatal stab wound to Michael’s heart, but I am far from being absolved.

What I set in motion all those years ago had led me here to this moment. I couldn’t undo what had happened, nor did I want to. I had thirsted for this and wanted nothing else. Now that it had happened, though, I didn’t feel any better. I was still mentally in the same place I was before Max walked through my door. I still didn’t feel satisfied knowing that his reign of terror was over.

It would just be a matter of time before my phone rings, and it would be Massimo thinking that I did it and telling me that I was dead to him, or even worse, Nicolette. How would she ever believe that I didn’t break my promise when I had all intent to do just that?

I packed a bag and left instructions with Tommy to take care of the bar in my absence. I had complete trust in him to keep everything in order and running smoothly. I knew I had to get to Sara before the news of this murder would hit the papers. I would not lose her or my family over that piece of shit. He was where he deserved to be…in hell.

Max and the family could rest easy knowing that they carried out a promise I had made. They justified every decision and always had an answer for everything. They never worried about the consequences or the damage they left in their wake. In their eyes, they were protecting me and righting a wrong that should have never happened.

Everything was strategically planned to the very last detail, and all that had to be done was to carry it out. I would never know who did it, because that would be information Max would take to the grave. I also knew that he went against my wishes and had the photographer Eddie Valdez chopped up and used for shark chum in the Pacific Ocean.

Max was wrong. I didn’t lose my perspective. My intentions were always clear, but I also knew that I would have never resurrected that part of me had Nicolette never been attacked.

I vowed to be better for not only myself, but for Sara, Nicolette, and the memory of my parents. I swore on their graves, and on all my past sins that I would be better, and I was…until Michael St. Clair came into our lives and wreaked havoc on all of us.

Only two hours from our home is where Sara retreated to. In her letter, she led me to believe that she was leaving to parts unknown, where I could not find her until she wanted to be found. I believed every word, because I wasn’t thinking clearly and drank myself into episodes of blacking out. I never thought that she would leave and shatter me. It was easy to lose yourself to the darkness when you had nothing else to live for.