“We’re not starting this again, okay? This is what I know! It’s all I know! This life is it, it’s all we’ve got.” He turns away. “Chella, if we wanna make fast cash, big money, this is the only thing I can do to help.”
“You can’t make money if you’re dead, Frankie!”
“I know, I know!”
“What the hell did you do?” I ask, my voice shaking.
Frankie puts his hands on my shoulders. “I can’t give you any details, except I did do something bad last night, but the good news is, nobody knows I was involved. The guys I was working with didn’t sell me out. That’s what they just told me. So we’re good. We don’t need to run.”
“Yet!” I say, throwing my hands into the air. “And what happens next time, when someone does sell you out or worse, you get caught? Huh? Then, what?”
“You’ve gotta take shit a day at a time. But today, don’t sweat it. We’re gonna get paid big, okay? I’m talking a huge chunk of cash that’ll take care of a shit ton of bills with enough left over for us to enjoy a little bit. To move outta this shit hole and into a better place.”
I shake my head. “Frankie, I can’t get caught up in another downward spiral, do you get that? You know what Papa’s conviction did to my career, my life. Both of our lives!” I spring up from the coffee table and start pacing around Frankie’s belongings. “Last night at work, Jimmy told me he couldn’t use me tonight for a huge party because I might bring bad press to the restaurant.”
Frankie scoffs. “That’s bullshit!”
I shrug. “Is it? I mean, Papa is a convicted murderer, a known mafia enforcer. Jimmy would get a lot of flack for employing me. On a normal night, it’s not a big deal, but there will be a lot of press at this event. They’d sniff me out like a piece of meat rotting in the kitchen. It would crush Jimmy’s business.”
“Well, you don’t have to worry about working there tonight because it’s payday!”
I cover my face with my hands. “You don’t understand. What I’m saying is that my life is one step away from complete destruction if someone else in my family gets pegged by the media for some boneheaded scam to make a quick buck,” I say with a pointed look. “And just so we’re clear, that ‘someone else’ is you.”
Frankie claps a hand on my shoulder. “Chella, I know how hard you have been working. Can’t you just accept this and let out a sigh of relief that I finally came through for us?” He walks over to me and pulls me in for a hug.
“I’m still a little afraid to breathe,” I mutter, laying my head on his shoulder. “Are you going to tell me what happened last night? Don’t keep me in suspense, especially if we need to flee the city in the middle of the night.”
“I’d rather not,” Frankie mutters.
I pull away and clutch his arms, shaking him. “All of your earthly belongings are piled in the center of this room. You were ready to run somewhere, anywhere far away from the city out of fear that whoever you screwed over was going to come for you and do God only knows what. I think I have a right to know what we’re up against!”
“You’re not up against anything,” he growls. “This is all on me, Chella. I won’t let anything happen to you.”
“Do you really think that’s your choice?” I ask. “I mean, these guys go after everything and everyone, Frankie. After all of these years, haven’t you at least learned that?”
“Yeah, well, nothing is gonna happen to you. I made sure of that. And this afternoon, I’m gonna meet the guys I was working with and collect my cut. It’s gonna help us out. I wanna help us, Chell. It shouldn’t all be on you, especially since…” Frankie’s voice trails off before he finishes his thought.
“Since what?” I ask.
He shuffles over to his pile of clothes and grabs them off the floor. “Nothing. Don’t worry about it. But we’re okay. I promise.”
“Okay, well, how about you promise that you won’t do anything risky or stupid again?” I grab an armful of his stuff and trudge back to his room with it. “Then we don’t have to worry about making a quick getaway.”
He smirks at me. “But I’m so good at this shit. How can I just walk away?”
“If they break both of your legs, you won’t have a choice.”
“I don’t plan on getting caught. The guys I’m working with know they can count on me.”
“Translation: they know you’ll do just about anything for a fast buck.” I graze his arm. “It’s too dangerous. Not worth it. We’ll figure this out. I’ll come up with a plan to make the money we need somehow.”
“How many more nights of waiting tables are you gonna have to suffer through to pay that money?” Frankie shakes his head. “I’ve proven myself. Let me pull my weight.”
“It’s a bad idea. And what if they’re going to pull one over on you? You said you’re going to collect your cut. What makes you think they’re going to give you a cent? How do you know they aren’t about to screw you?”
Frankie chuckles. “You really have no faith in me, do you? I’m fucking in, don’t you get it?”
“You shouldn’t go to your meeting spot alone,” I say. “I’ll come with you.”
He lets out a loud guffaw. “You’re insane. I’m not taking you with me!”
I don’t argue. I’m the last person who could help him in a shady situation and he knows it. I can’t even stand the sight of blood. I get queasy and lightheaded. And aside from the pepper spray, I’m probably the least street-smart person on the planet, other than when I use my resting bitch face on the subway.
It’s kind of ironic because I’ve grown up in a family firmly ingrained in the mafia. I was always kept away from the nitty gritty, though. Papa never saw me as a protégé. That was always Frankie’s role. I was the book smart one, the reader, the dreamer, the one who was going to do great things, the one who started to…well, that is until her plans came to a screeching halt.
Frankie always said Papa’s enemies would be back for us, something I probably should have prepared a little bit better for. I guess the past six months of nobody lashing out has given me a false sense of security. Either they can’t find us, or they just don’t want to bother looking now that my Papa is behind bars.
I really don’t know what I’d do if they came for me, if I could even get away. I’d try, sure. But that world is pretty foreign to me. I never wanted anything to do with it growing up, and after the fallout with the trial, I detest the idea of it. That lifestyle stripped me of my own success, everything I had planned for my future. And while I get that Frankie has never been the studious type, I really wish he’d found a different niche, one that didn’t involve drugs, guns, or a gaggle of thugs who can’t even pronounce two-syllable words.
Maybe this will be the wake-up call he needed. Take the money and run, Frankie!
Anything to get him away from the thug life! My God, I would have so many words for the leader of the fucking shithead pack he runs with!