FALLON
A neutral site is considered a location that's not connected to either party and can be determined as ‘safe’ for everyone to ensure no funny business will occur.
That’s what we found, choosing a public park with a playground, for this meeting.
We’ve chosen to host this meeting at a picnic table, with our tech and men in place, waiting for the other half of this discussion to show up.
Ozzy, Lex, and Max are in the van a few blocks away, while Olly and I wait for any kind of signal letting us know this is on.
It’s funny, because the first time I felt connected to Oliver was the night of the motorcycle heist, when he let me use his earpiece to connect with Ozzy to make sure he was alright. Now, we’re number one and two, conducting meetings of our own like a sibling force to be reckoned with.
I dressed for the occasion, choosing a modest top, with a pair of jeans. My hair is slightly curled, and I did the minimal amount of makeup, not enough to flirt or have him get the wrong idea, but just a little to be taken seriously. I’m in the driver’s seat now, and I’m trying to change all of our fates, so I might as well look the part.
“You ready, Fal?” Olly asks, nodding his head to the left as three men come into view.
“I’m good, do we have comms?” I whisper, waiting to hear Lex’s voice on the other side of the mic.
“We have you both, eyes too. Good luck,” he answers, and from here on out, he’ll be silent unless there’s an issue.
I watch as Mr. A. approaches us, his security flanking his left and right sides, but that’s not what captures my attention. Just like the last time I saw him, he’s in a tailored suit, one that frames his body, but it’s not flattering. His hair is gelled back, a fresh coat of dye on his roots, but not on his growing facial hair, as the grays stand out against his pale complexion, mixed with the dark hairline. He’s a try-hard, someone who wants to stay young, but he certainly isn’t fooling anyone.
He nods at his guys, essentially telling them to stay close, but creating a safe distance for us to speak freely. He waits, sitting patiently, his eyes shifting between Oliver and me.
“He’s not going anywhere if that’s what you’re waiting for.” I break the ice, making sure he knows that I’m not under his thumb, and I do shit my way.
“I was hoping to speak with you alone, Ms. Mariano.”
“You are. Oliver stays, he’s my security, and I feel most secure when he’s firmly planted in place beside me,” I say, barely blinking as I keep a strong form of eye contact with him.
“Look, I’m not leaving, alright? Let’s just get to talkin’ about what you wanted her here for,” Oliver chimes in, and the man in front of us curls his lips into the most devilish, satanic smile I’ve ever seen.
I keep my cool, not letting him get to me. This man is responsible for the most pain I’ve ever felt in my life, for the choice I had to make regarding my baby, but now is not the time to strike. This meeting is about gaining as much information as we can, and the longer we sit, the more we get.
“Here I thought the curly-haired one was the father of your heir. Maybe I was mistaken?” He says blankly, the calm in his voice sending me right over the edge.
I lunge across the table, reaching for anything I can touch on his body to hurt him, but Oliver grabs me, holding me around my midsection.
“No, Fal. It’s not worth it,” he whispers, and although my claws are out, he’s right.
I collect myself, taking a deep breath, and ignoring the very personal digs he chose to throw at me.
“Let’s get down to business?” I clear my throat, shaking off the rage and moving this meeting forward.
“These boys of yours … they don’t follow directions very well,” he starts, and I do everything not to roll my eyes.
“They’re much more than haulers. Stealing trucks is all you have them doing, and frankly, it’s a gross misuse of their potential. So, are you done wasting our time, or would you like to get to the bottom line of why you’ve chosen to sink your teeth into us?” I counter, not holding back for a second, my words dripping with impatience and disgust.
“Well, Ms. Mariano, I want them all dead.”
“That’s very bold of you to admit. Why not do it yourself, you seem to have the means?” I ask, not missing a beat.
We’re both talking fast, our tongues lethal, but I won’t back down, not until I find out why .
Why the trucks, why all these games of cat and mouse, and most importantly, why us?
“I want them to suffer every single ounce of pain I can send their way, first. Starting with your unfortunate abduction,” he explains, folding his hands on the table in an attempt to distract me.
It doesn’t work, my eyes are trained on his, and I won’t be moving my gaze for a split second.
If he wants to catch me off-guard, he’ll have to offer more than that. Everything he’s saying is obvious, we already know he wants them dead, and to make us all suffer. It’s not new information.
“So, let’s work out a way where we all make money, work together, and stop lying to each other? A mutually beneficial agreement. I’ve come prepared with terms,” I offer, and his expression remains unchanged.
“I’m intrigued to continue working with you, Fallon. You have a very professional way about you. Your affairs are in order, and you attempt to keep your emotions in check. It’s interesting, considering all that you’ve lost since we started this dance.”
“Bring up her personal life again, and I will gut you from bow to stern, I don’t care about your goons over there,” Oliver interrupts, but neither I, nor Mr. A., break our gaze.
We’re locked into each other, and almost nothing could tear our focus away.
I understand Oliver’s protectiveness, it’s the same that Ozzy has, but I can’t think about either of them right now. I’m locked into a battle of wits, and endurance, and I promise, I will not falter.
“Present your terms,” he finally speaks, and I stifle a smile, notching another win under my belt.
“No more trucks. It’s nonsense, and your way of rubbing your thumb over them, knowing they're much more qualified for other work. Second, we’re done moving every few weeks. Once a month we change location, if necessary, with new aliases provided by you.”
“Anything else?”
“Yes. I like to cook, one of my passions is creating new recipes, coming up with new ideas, and sharing that food with my family. See, what you don’t understand is that all of these people are my family . Not by blood, but by choice, and we want a rental house. Somewhere we can spread our wings and feel like humans, rather than rats under a microscope. From now on, we’re partners, not lackeys.” I finish my long-winded speech, and I can see that he resonated with my words.
He’s contemplating them, weighing his options, and I came here to make a deal. To show him we won’t be controlled anymore, or held under his rule.
“I can make that happen, but I need assurances.”
“Like?”
“You’ll keep them in line. You’re down a man, from what I can only assume is the discovery of his … media consumption. He belonged to a very exclusive club, and I must say, the blonde hair didn’t suit you as the lilac does,” he says freely, and my blood runs cold.
“You son of a bitch!” Oliver yells, but I hold my hand up, letting him know I’m good.
We’ve come this far, and are so close to a deal. This is very important – taking back some of the control – and no longer being afraid of this pathetic man.
I know he’s referring to the website and is aware we went after my stepfather. There’s no slipping anything past this man, he must have eyes everywhere, and although I don’t show it, my paranoia is sinking in.
It’s hard to match an opponent who has been studying us so closely, but I won’t let my emotions show. He’ll have to pull out the big guns to break this poker face.
“I’ll keep them in line, but there’s one more thing,” I reply, narrowing my eyes so he understands how serious I am.
I lean in closer, my palms flat on the wooden table, and it’s the most I’ve moved since Oliver sat me back down. I’m giving him one small glimpse into my mind, one chance to understand who he’s messing with, and the beast that lives within me.
“One day, you and I will find ourselves in this position again, and I promise you, my face is the last thing you’ll see before I plunge a knife into your throat.” I take two fingers and brush the side of my neck, ensuring he doesn’t misinterpret me for a single second.
His dead bodyguard is my resume, hand-delivered and signed months ago, but if he chooses to underestimate me – and my ability to latch onto something – that’d be his costly miscalculation.
“I look forward to it, Ms. Mariano. You’ll find an itinerary and a digital credit card in your alias’ name within the next few hours, as long as email is still our best form of communication?”
“It is.”
“Very good. You’re in charge of the finances now, and I trust you won’t abuse my faith in you. This is an olive branch,” he says, and I nod slightly to show my appreciation.
If he’s waiting for a thank you , he may as well die on that bench.
“Are we done here?” Oliver asks, standing from the table before being excused.
I mask my smile, knowing that a man of his stature prefers to be the first to leave, but he nods in submission, rising to his feet and walking back into the fold with his security.
“Wait,” I say, not budging until I see that shiny black car drive away.
“Lex wants us back in the van, Fal. He made a mistake .” My eyes widen, and I almost lose feeling in my hands.
This is what we’ve been waiting for, the moment he fucked up, and whether it be big or small, it’s finally happened.
Oliver walks behind me, and after the meeting where I conquered the dragon, I feel like a force to be reckoned with. I’m the leader of a crew, a criminal family, and behind me is my most trusted ally. He’s guarding me, as if I’m someone worth protecting, and the power is coursing through my veins.
“You did fucking amazing, Bambi. I was a little terrified of you.” Ozzy smiles, reaching his hand out to help me into the van.
The seats have been folded down, making room for Lex’s screens, and I’m starstruck, completely in awe at how it looks like a federal stakeout vehicle in here.
It’s hard to believe this is where I’ve spent so much of my time, and now it’s been transformed into something from a crime TV show.
“Alright, what do we have?”
Everyone’s eyes land on me as I step toward the monitors, and although I’m unsure of what I’m looking at, my attention is undivided, even as I feel Ozzy’s hand on my shoulder.
“I know that man,” Max says, and my neck swivels so fast it may fall right off my body.
“Who is he?”
“That is Aaron Amos. Masha’s father.”
Mr. A.
“How can you be so sure?” I ask, my weariness outweighing my excitement.
We can’t be wrong, and if we do have a name, it has to be right. No second-guessing, maybes, or possibilities.
“I went with Doc when he … collected her body from the funeral home. It’s him, and there’s nothing else I’ve ever been more certain of,” he explains, and I’m inclined to believe him.
That man had no clue we had a camera, or that the boys were watching. He may have had an idea, but I have a feeling he vetted the area before stepping out of his car.
It also explains the fatherly feeling I got from him in the warehouse, how sympathetic he was of my condition, as well as offering his regrets for having to resort to such measures. He’s on a revenge tour, out for blood against the ones he feels led to the death of his daughter, and in a moment I never thought would happen, I realize something.
I understand him.
Parental love is the strongest bond there is, and even though I never met my child, I’m following the same path, vowing to hurt the person I deem responsible for what I’ve lost. It doesn’t change anything, but it does make the playing field more clear.
It’s Mr. A. versus the crew, and me against him. An eye for an eye, a vengeance needed to fully heal and move on from the pain that corrupts our minds, hearts, and very existence.
“Masha’s dad has it out for us? Are you fucking kidding me? Doc said he handled her family!” Oliver yells, dropping onto the floor as he works his way through this revelation.
He was amazing today, protecting me, and standing his ground, but now, he needs to release everything pent up inside.
“He did. I was there while they spoke, but … he must still blame us,” Max says, securing himself in the driver’s seat.
“Let’s go pack our shit. We’re out of the trenches!” I exclaim, and everyone’s smiles could be seen for miles.
I may have made a selfish request for a house, but I knew we’d all benefit from it. It’s time we’re treated like valuable assets, rather than bottom-of-the-barrel rats. Shit, we would’ve accepted an old car dealership, but instead, we have the chance to rent out a place just as beautiful as where we stayed in Maryland.
After some rearranging, the van is back to normal, and I’m resting against Ozzy’s chest, relieved to have his arms around me once again.
This morning, I was cold, standoffish, and not in the mood for his touch in the slightest. I was preparing for the meeting, blocking out anything that would mess with my mindset, but now that it’s over, I’m desperate to feel his comfort again.
I’m tough. I can handle almost anything, but I’m also still human, and at the end of a long day, I’m desperate to fall into the arms of my Greek God .
“I’m proud of you, you know?”
“I should’ve killed him for even bringing up Angel,” I whisper, my mind running through the things I could’ve done better.
“No, you shouldn’t have. His guards would’ve killed you without hesitation. You planted the seed, let him know what was coming, and for that, you left with the upper hand. Not to mention, the best deal possible,” he reassures, and he’s right.
I won the day, but with a heavy heart. We’re an inch closer, but miles away from where we want to be in terms of ending this for good.
“We conquered one of many battles today, but I’ll admit, I’m exhausted. Sitting in front of him, putting on such a brave face … it’s not as easy as it looks,” I confess, feeling a wave of sadness rush through me.
I’m not used to being so tough, it may seem like it, but really, I spent all my life playing the timid girl who was too afraid of standing up for herself. Now, I’m a completely different woman, but that girl still lives inside me, and she hates the confrontation.
Before I can control it, tears roll down my cheeks, and I can’t stop them. I’m breaking down, releasing every emotion that I held onto during that meeting, but thankfully, Ozzy has me.
“It’s okay, Bambi. You’re a fucking warrior, you remember that, okay?” He whispers, laying me down on his lap and stroking my hair while I let it all out.
“I hate to interrupt, but we have the itinerary, Fallon,” Lex says, leaning over the edge of the seat to get my attention.
“Where?” I ask, not bothering to move an inch.
I’m right where I need to be, and unless this van crashes, or catches on fire, I’m not moving until everyone else is out of it. I need Ozzy’s comfort, heart, and most importantly, his body against mine as I process what I tackled today.
“We’re staying here until the first of the month, and the credit card he promised is attached. You did it, Fal. You got us out of trucks, and into a penthouse,” Lex explains, a certain cheeriness in his voice that I’m not used to.
“Olly, find a house. Not too pricey, with three or four rooms. We’ll start demanding more of our spaces soon, but for now, let’s take what we’ve been given with a grain of salt,” I say, and Oliver immediately jumps on it, not asking a single question.
I can’t believe Mr. A gave me everything I asked for, and I’m silently worried that it may blow back in our faces. Like it’ll be one giant setup or a big front for something more elaborate that I wasn’t able to see coming.
This man incites the fear in me, the paranoia that I’m usually able to choke down and keep at bay, so in order to keep us all safe, we have to be careful with every move we make.
“He says a new job will be coming in three days, with a payout that we all split equally. I guess our debt has been wiped, too?” Lex adds, increasing our confusion and leading my mind on another wild goose chase.
There it is. That’s what I’ve been expecting, the other shoe is dropping, but I have no idea where it’ll land.
“Doesn’t it seem too good to be true?” I wonder aloud, not directing my question to anyone in particular.
“Maybe, but we have to follow through, at least for now. Your mind is running a mile a minute, Bambi, you should try to relax,” Ozzy whispers, his body wrapped around mine as I bury my face into his belly, while my head rests on his thighs.
I should, but how the hell am I supposed to relax after the chessboard has been wiped, reset, and practically flipped upside down? I don’t know if we’re defending our pieces, attacking his, or moving with caution toward the middle ground, and that is terrifying.
All I know is that I’m supposed to be keeping this family together, leading us through the dark and back into brighter territory, but so far, I have an ominous feeling that I’ve made things worse without a shred of proof to back it up.
I’m beginning to understand the pressure Ozzy felt while he was at the head of the table, but he had much more implicating choices to make than I have in my first weeks. It’s stressful, being responsible for the lives of the people you love in the middle of a war that's shots seemingly go off in the daylight, with no clear target, or landing zone.
I’m overwhelmed, that much I know, the possibilities swirling around my mind like a cloud of smoke, but I will stand back up, and continue to fight until we can clearly distinguish whether a shot will hit, miss, or ricochet.