Sempre: Redemption (20 page)

W
e have a problem.”

Corrado shook his head as he stood by the window of his lawyer’s office. “Don’t tell me that. I came here because you said you had good news.”

“I do,” Mr. Borza said. “Well, I did, but it seems petty now in comparison.”

Sighing, Corrado turned to him, not in the mood for guessing games. This case was proving to be harder than his others to shake. “Just be out with it.”

“We got your arrest record thrown out since it would bias the jury. All previous trials resulted in not guilty verdicts or dropped charges.”

“That’s good,” Corrado said. “It’s progress.”

“Yes,” Mr. Borza agreed. “The prosecution’s barred from mentioning any of it. Your criminal record, on the other hand, is still in, but it’s squeaky clean.”

“I know,” Corrado said. “What else?”

“The judge ruled the wiretaps at the club weren’t covered by the warrant, so those tapes are inadmissible. I’m still working on the ones from your home. The crime scene photographs were thrown out, since they would unfairly incite the jury. Being guilty under RICO is a far cry from being a cold-blooded murderer.”

Not as far of a cry as the man thought. “Anything else?”

“Tommy DiMica and Alfredo Millano are both off the witness list. Seems Tommy recanted his story and now says he doesn’t even know you, and Alfredo was assaulted a few days ago in his jail cell. He’s alive, but in no condition to testify.”

Corrado nodded. He knew those things already. Tommy and Alfredo were both former
La Cosa Nostra
, and men who turned against the oath had to pay the price.

“So what’s the problem?” Corrado asked. “Seems their case is falling apart.”

“The problem is there’s a new name on the list.”

Mr. Borza picked up a piece of paper and held it out to him. Corrado took it and scanned the list, the name at the bottom jumping off the page:

Vincenzo Roman DeMarco

Corrado said nothing as he stared at it, forcing himself not to react.

“It’s possible they’re planning to subpoena him and he’ll just plead the fifth,” Mr. Borza continued.

“Or he’s testifying against me to save his own ass.”

“A plea bargain,” Mr. Borza said. “I’m not certain, since I’m not on his case anymore. I’ll request a deposition, of course, but in the meantime I’ll see what I can do about getting this to go away permanently.”

Corrado looked away from the paper and handed it back to the lawyer. “No.”

“No?”

“Let me handle it,” Corrado said, turning to the window once more. “I’d rather you not breathe a word about it to anyone.”

The loud shrieking echoed through the room. Haven reached beside the bed, slapping the alarm clock to silence it. She was exhausted, her body weary, and entirely too comfortable wrapped in the comforter for her to even consider getting up. A strange buzzing noise met her ears but she did her best to block it out, not caring enough to investigate. She assumed it came from upstairs in Kelsey’s apartment, and if that was the case, she probably didn’t want to know what it was.

It stopped eventually and silence overtook the room. The moment she finally slipped back to sleep, a succession of bangs jolted her awake. Groaning, she hauled herself out of bed.

“Wake up!” The thick door muffled Kelsey’s voice. “I
know
you aren’t still in bed! Do you
see
the time? Up, up, up! Rise and shine!”

“Calm down,” she yelled, her voice scratchy. “I’m awake!”

“You better be!”

Kelsey obnoxiously pounded a few more times even though she knew Haven was on her way. Sighing, she unlocked the door and pulled it open, immediately having a coffee cup thrust in her face.

“Here,” Kelsey said. “It’s probably cold now since you took so long.”

Haven rolled her eyes, knowing she had bought it right down the street. “Thank you,” she said, bringing it to her lips and taking a sip. The hot liquid made her tongue tingle as it burned, but she drank it eagerly anyway.

“You’re welcome.” Kelsey stepped past her into the apartment, watching her with a peculiar look on her face. “From the look of you, though, you probably need about ten more of them. Did you get
any
sleep last night, honey?”

“Some,” she said, shrugging as she continued to drink her coffee—straight black, just as she preferred. It was the opposite of the one in Kelsey’s hand, which she ordered every morning like clockwork on the way to school—venti soy chai latte, four pumps, no foam, extra hot. Haven had no clue what any of that meant.

“Some.” She echoed the word, her expression telling Haven she didn’t believe it. A smile crept on to her lips after a second, a sinister twinkle in her eye. “Did you have company last night? A guy, maybe?”

“Of course not!” Haven said quickly, looking at her with disbelief as the blush rose onto her cheeks. “I would never do . . .
that
.”

“Pity,” Kelsey joked. “You could use a good fuck to loosen you up.”

“Kelsey!”

The two girls had easily become what most people would consider best friends, despite the fact that they were polar opposites in nearly everything. Kelsey grew up lavishly, never having to clean or even wear the same outfit twice. She had had the type of childhood where she asked for a pony and actually got it, whereas Haven had been doomed to sleep in the same grungy stables as one.

Kelsey loved going to crowded parties and got her news from trashy gossip magazines. Haven preferred staying home and losing herself in books. But still, something about her put Haven at ease. She reminded Haven of the life she had left behind, the one that part of her still yearned to belong to . . . the life she had nearly built with Carmine.

It still hurt her to think about, a burn in her chest constantly reminding Haven that a part of her soul had been torn away. It was a piece he had taken with him, one that would always be wherever he was.

Most days she could think of Carmine fondly, remembering things they had done together and everything he had said, but it wasn’t always that way. There were still times when she questioned if she would ever smile again, worried the pain would one day swallow her whole.

“Hey!”

Haven glanced at her friend as she waved her hand in front of her face. “Huh?”

“Haven’t you been listening to me? Jesus, girl, get yourself together. We have a long day ahead of us. You can’t space out on me.” Kelsey looked around. “Where’s your phone? I tried calling you on my way here but you didn’t answer.”

“Really?” she asked, unable to recall hearing the phone ring. “Where were you, anyway? You aren’t a morning person. Usually I have to drag you out of bed.”

“Oh, I just got home,” Kelsey said. “Stayed at Derrick’s last night. We—”

Haven held her hand up to stop her. “Enough said.”

“Jealous wench.” Kelsey scrunched her nose as she surveyed Haven. “Find your phone, and get dressed while you’re at it. There’s no way I’m going
anywhere
with you looking like that.”

Rolling her eyes, Haven headed for the bedroom. “Always so bossy.”

“One of the many reasons you love me,” she yelled.

Haven took sips of her coffee as she headed into her bedroom, spotting the black phone laying on the bed.
Three missed calls
lit up the screen, the first two from Kelsey, and she froze when her eyes fell upon number three. She stared at the name as her heart pounded forcefully, the blood furiously rushing through her veins.

Corrado Moretti

“You don’t have any liquor?” Kelsey hollered through the door. “What are you, a nun?”

Haven set her phone down, laughing, as she walked to the dresser. She dressed quickly, pulling her hair up to get it off her neck.

“Never mind,” Kelsey yelled. “I’ll get some upstairs!”

Haven shook her head and glanced at the clock, seeing it was a few minutes before ten. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she grabbed her phone again. Her hand shook nervously as she scrolled through her contacts, stopping when she reached Corrado’s number.

It rang a few times before she heard the click. “Hello?”

Haven breathed a sigh of relief at the soft, feminine voice. “Hello, Celia.”

“Haven!” she gasped. “It’s been a while!”

“I know.” She immediately felt guilty. “I’ve been . . . busy.”

“No need to make excuses, kiddo. I just worry about you.”

“I know you do, but I promise I’m fine,” she said. “Is Corrado there? He called this morning.”

“Did he?” she asked, surprised. “He stepped out earlier, said he had some things to take care of.”

“Oh, okay,” she said. “Can you tell him I called?”

“Sure, sweetheart.”

“Thank you,” she said quietly, suddenly feeling queasy. She bit her lip, trying to hold it back as she said good-bye and hung up the phone. She had a long day ahead of her and needed to keep it together.

She grabbed her things and headed back out to find Kelsey in the living room, staring at one of the paintings on the wall. “What do you see?”

Jumping, Kelsey turned as she clutched her chest. “I see a girl who needs to get laid,” she said sarcastically as she surveyed Haven again. “She also needs some makeup for those bags under her eyes and a pedicure if she’s going to wear flip-flops.”

The girls departed, taking a taxi the few blocks to the Rainbow Art Center. Every semester they were required to do five hours of volunteer work, whether in a gallery or library or out in the community. Haven was excited about the opportunity to help, while Kelsey seemed to be dreading it more than anything.

Kelsey pulled the lid off her cup and gulped her drink as she started toward the entrance of the building. “Remind me why we’re here again.”

“You said they were easier to deal with than the artsy-fartsy intellectual types who spoke in haikus and took themselves way too seriously,” Haven said, recalling her exact statement.

“That’s right.” Kelsey smirked. “Never trust a man in a beret with a French accent. He’s either gay or a con artist. Trust me on this.”

Haven shook her head, not even wanting to know the story behind that.

Chaos reigned, screeching voices and thunderous footsteps dominating the building. The moment the door shut behind them, a form came right for Haven. She braced herself as a little girl slammed right into her legs. Snotty nosed and wide-eyed, the child stared up at her with a mixture of confusion and fascination.

She smiled at the little girl adoringly, her thick dark hair fanning in her face and partially shielding her view. “Uh, hey, sweetheart.”

The little girl said nothing, just continued to stare.

“They’re animals, I swear,” Kelsey muttered. Haven glanced over and laughed when she saw she had two little boys running around her legs, hindering her ability to walk. “It’s a good thing I like the zoo.”

A lady approached them, unfazed by the madness, and smiled warmly as she wrangled the children. “You must be the volunteers,” she said, pulling the little girl away. “This is Emma, by the way.”

“Hello, Emma.”

The little girl smiled at the sound of her name before scampering away and joining the others. The teacher, Mrs. Clementine, showed them around before calling the class to order with a loud whistle. The noise echoed through the room, bouncing off the walls and stilling everyone immediately.

“In your seats,” she declared. They started to oblige and Haven jumped into action, helping hand out the art supplies.

The Rainbow Art Center was attached to the local community center, where they taught free art classes for underprivileged children. The name struck Haven as ironic, because there was nothing bright or colorful about the place. The walls were a drab gray color and the paint was chipping, the building falling apart.

Most of the kids who came to the center had no families, every one of them deemed at-risk by the state. So young and innocent, Haven knew they were all only one step away from living the life she had once lived.

They spent two hours painting and drawing with the kids. By the time class was over, Haven was worn out. Their caregivers trickled in to pick them up, and Emma met Haven at the door, smiling brightly as she held her paintings.

“I made you!” she exclaimed.

Haven laughed and took it, gazing at the distorted stick figure with the abnormally large head and big brown hair. There was a large red mouth on the face and a big yellow sun taking up half of the sky.

Haven smiled. “Beautiful.”

“You can keep it.”

“Thank you,” she said. “It’s really good.”

Emma’s eyes lit up. “Can I be an artist like you?”

“Absolutely,” Haven said. “You can be anything you want to be.”

C
armine stuck a screwdriver in a delivery truck’s ignition and tried to turn it, but nothing happened. It wouldn’t budge.

Groaning, he yanked it back out as another truck sped from the lot, spraying his windshield with loose gravel. He used the screwdriver to jimmy open the ignition, cracking the plastic cover as he forced it off, and pulled the red power wires from the cylinder. He stripped them quickly before tightly twisting the two of them together. The lights on the dash immediately turned on as the radio came to life, a heavy rock song rattling from the cheap speakers. Carmine grabbed the brown starter wires next and stripped them, immediately striking them hard against the red ones.

Mistake.

It sparked, a strong jolt of electricity burning his glove-clad fingers. He dropped the wires and cursed loudly as someone banged on the side of the truck.

“Come on, man!” Remy yelled. “Get that shit started!”

Frustrated, Carmine grabbed the brown wires again and held his breath as he touched them to the others. It sparked once more, but the engine roared to life before Carmine was forced to let go. He shook his hand, trying to wave off the pain as the truck idled. He had had to resort to hot-wiring a few times when the old screwdriver-in-the-ignition trick failed, but he had yet to figure out how to do it without damn near electrocuting himself.

Remy jumped up on the side of the cab and looked in. Even though his face was concealed by a black ski mask, Carmine could tell he was grinning with pride. “That’s how you fucking do it, man,” he said, reaching through the window to punch him on the shoulder. It was playful, but Carmine winced at the blow. “Drive it to the spot, will you? I’ll meet you there.”