35. Deanna
DEANNA
Prime parks across from my parents’ house and leans over to kiss my cheek. “When am I going to get to meet them, by the way?”
I pat his knee. “Eventually. I don’t want to rush it.”
“Rush it? We’re husband and wife.”
“I know, but they’re delicate. I don’t want to disturb my dad too much, and anyway, it’s not like he’ll remember.”
“Still, I want to meet them whenever you’re ready.”
I smile despite myself. I love that he wants to get to know that side of me, but it feels strange, bringing him into that house.
It’s like the rooms are too cramped for him, and I don’t want him to see how badly it hurts, being around my father.
I want him to look at me like he does now, like I’m perfect and beautiful and incredible.
He doesn’t need to see how small my world really has been.
“Soon,” I promise and get out of the car. I hurry to the stoop and pause to look back. He’s watching me and puts it in gear after waving. He drives off and my stomach twists, wishing I had the courage to call him back.
I want him to meet my parents. I really do, but I’m nervous about how it might change our relationship.
Right now, he’s two weeks into fighting back against Fontana, starving them of payments, letting their financial troubles weaken them, and I don’t want something like my parents distracting him from that.
But the fact is, I can make a million excuses. I’m mostly afraid all the time, and I don’t even know why anymore.
I turn to let myself into the house, pausing to find my spare key, when a voice makes me stop.
“Deanna. We need to talk.”
I look up as Marco Carbone comes walking toward me.
He’s in jeans and a button down, looking like a retired office worker. His face is grim though and he’s clutching something dark in his hand.
It’s a gun, I realize.
I cover my mouth to keep from screaming as panic slams into my stomach.
He stops a few feet away. “Why do you look like you saw a ghost?”
“You scared me, that’s all.” I force myself to calm down even as sick bile fills my throat. “What’s going on, Mr. Carbone?”
“We can drop the formalities.” He gestures at me with the gun. His eyes are red-rimmed and lined with heavy bags. His pale skin’s sallow. He looks like he hasn’t slept. “Your husband hasn’t been as helpful as I’d like, and so I’m coming straight to you now.”
“I don’t know anything about your deal with him.”
“We both know that’s not true. You’re the brains behind the operation, aren’t you? I doubt Prime’s got enough gray matter in that head of his to dream up that delicious pipeline. No, I think you’re more important than you let on.”
“You’re so wrong.”
“I’m not.” He steps closer. “Where’s my money, Deanna?”
“I don’t know anything about it.”
“Stop lying to me.” His voice raises as he gets more agitated. “You’re fucking lying to me, and I don’t appreciate it. Where is the money?”
“Please, you’re freaking me out. Why don’t we sit down with Prime?—“
“I don’t want Prime!” he shouts in my face. The barrel of the gun jams into my hip. “I want you to tell me where my fucking money is, you worthless fucking cunt!”
I grunt in pain and back away, thumping into the door. “Please, Mr. Carbone?—“
“Say my real name you fucking bitch!” He hits me across the face with the gun. Pain flares in my mouth as I gasp and drop to a knee. His hand grips my hair and drags me back up. I groan, arching away. “Where is my god damn money?”
“Marco, I don’t know.” I lick my teeth and taste blood. I try not to cry but I can’t stop the tears. I’ve never been hit in the face before and it really hurt.
The door at my back opens. I turn in terror as my mother stands on the threshold, frowning at us in alarm. I start to tell her to get back inside, to lock the door, to call the cops—but Marco shoves me hard into her and we tumble together into the living room.
“There we go. That’s the welcome I wanted.” He follows inside and slams the door. He trains the gun on me as I try to help my mother to her feet.
“What’s going on? Oh god, are we being robbed?” Mom looks around in a panic, her hair disheveled. “We don’t have anything worth stealing!”
“Shut the fuck up,” Marco snarls. “Both of you, sit on the couch.”
“Please, take what you want.”
“Mom, come on.” I draw her to the side. She’s so small and thin. She’s shaking as we sit together and I do my best to be brave because that’s what she needs right now. “We’ll be okay. Just do as he says.”
“This is unacceptable. This is… it’s all wrong. I’m an old woman. Who is this man?!”
“God, you don’t know anything about your fucking daughter, do you?
” Marco paces in front of us. My heart’s racing and I try to think of a way out.
My phone’s in my back pocket so I doubt I could get it.
Maybe I can rush him, but no, he’d overpower me and kill me in a heartbeat. But if I don’t do anything?
How desperate is he right now?
“Deanna? What’s he saying?”
“It’s okay, Mom.”
“I want my money. That’s all I want. It’s owed to me, fucking owed, per our contract, and your god damn husband isn’t living up to his end.”
Mom grips my arm. “This is the man. He was here before, wasn’t he? Deanna, who is he? And why is he talking about a husband?”
“Damn it, Marco, please stop this.”
Carbone’s eyes widen in surprise. A joyous smile spreads across his face. “My god. You didn’t tell them about Prime?”
“Stop it,” I say through my teeth. “Whatever financial problems there are, you can handle them with him, okay? I have nothing to do with it and neither do my parents.”
“Oh, fuck, this is too good.” He gestures at my mother with his gun. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but your daughter is married to one of the most vicious, ruthless criminals I’ve ever met.”
Mom blinks at me. “Is he being serious?”
“We’ll talk about it later.”
“No, oh fuck no, we’ll talk about it now.” Marco waves the gun around. “She’s married! And she didn’t tell her own mother! What a nightmare you are, Deanna, you bitch. That’s right, lady, your daughter is fucking a glorified pimp every night, spreading her legs for him, moaning his name?—“
“Shut the fuck up, Marco!” I jump to my feet in a rage. “Don’t talk about Prime like that!”
He howls with laughter. “Look at how she defends her man!”
I seethe, fury taking me over, and I’ve never felt so powerless before.
I step toward him, but the smile fades and the gun steadies in my face.
He gestures with it, backing me down, and I consider rushing him.
Would he really shoot me? If he did that, he’d lose Prime’s support forever.
He needs me, but accidents happen, and he doesn’t seem like he’s in the right state of mind to be careful.
I sink back down beside my mother, breathing deep to keep my head.
“Is it true, honey? Are you really married?”
I take her hands. They’re so thin and the skin is papery. I squeeze them between mine. “I’m sorry, Mom. I should’ve told you sooner. You know my boss? Mr. Spadaro?”
She looks confused. “The asshole? The one you always complained about?”
I flinch when Carbone laughs again, clearly loving this.
I do my best to ignore him. “Me and Mr. Spadaro got married. His real name is Prime. It started out as an agreement… but Mom, I love him, and I know this is crazy and makes no sense and it looks like I’m in a lot of trouble, but I swear, he’s good to me. He’s good for me.”
She looks stunned. For a second, Carbone’s forgotten. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”
“I was afraid of how you’d react and what it might do to Dad. I was going to tell you…”
“Oh, sweetie.”
“I’m sorry, Mom.”
“Are you happy? With him, I mean?”
“I am. I really am.”
“Then… that’s all I care about.” She touches my face and tears roll down my cheeks.
Carbone crouches down across from us and shoves his gun forward. “As touching as this is, I’m getting bored. Time to focus up, Deanna. Where. Is. My. Money.”
Mom turns to Carbone. “Would you please fuck off? You aren’t welcome here.”
Carbone throws up his hands. “I’m holding you at gunpoint, you crazy old bitch! Where is my?—“
A howl comes from the stairs behind him. I have a brief moment to watch as Dad comes roaring forward, leaping off the bottom landing, and smashing into Carbone’s back.
The pair of them topple forward. Carbone’s face hits the edge of the coffee table.
He grunts and curses, blood breaking out from a cut on his brow, getting everywhere.
Dad claws and tears at him, but Dad’s half the man he used to be, almost literally; he’s thin and light, brittle and weak.
But as he beats at Carbone, he screams my name, over and over. “Deanna! Deanna! Run! Run away!”
It kills me, right then, seeing my father trying to protect me, because he knows who I am, he knows me, in this moment I needed him the most, he reached down inside and found a piece of himself I thought might be long gone.
Carbone twists, knees Dad, cracks him across the jaw, and brings the gun around.
I don’t hesitate. I grab the lamp, the first object to hand, and I dive at Carbone, bringing it down hard into his face.
The gun fires as the porcelain base shatters, cutting his cheeks and mouth, spilling more blood.
I scream, ears ringing. Dad rolls sideways and I scramble to him, crawling to make sure he’s okay.
“Deanna,” he says, frowning at me. “What are you doing home from college?”
There are no injuries. The bullet missed.
“You bitch!” Carbone groans as he rolls onto his side.
“No!” Mom screams, leaping onto his back, but he elbows her hard and knocks her off.
I look around for a weapon, anything I can use, something heavy and hard that’ll put Carbone down, but he’s shaking himself off and looking for the gun.
It got lost in the scramble, and we spot it at the same time.
But he’s closer, and even though I’m not as injured and younger, he moves first, diving onto the weapon and rolling onto his back, bringing it up, barrel aimed at my chest?—