Chapter 4
Soren
Christmas Eve has never been widely celebrated in my family. Some years are happier than others, and occasionally my uncle even insists on having a special dinner. I never truly care what we do, as long as everyone is safe and our jobs get done.
That said, I didn’t think I’d be spending this Christmas Eve trailing Carmine Dresvanni around. Regardless, here I am.
Without his father, Carmine has even more work to do, but it seems he’s also avoiding handing the work he used to do off to someone else. It’s unusual for the head of a crime family to be out working deals himself, even more so for him to be doing so alone.
I don’t see a single bodyguard with him, or near him. They might be hiding in the shadows, but so am I. It begs the question: who’s in who’s shadow?
He’s being reckless, but this doesn’t surprise me.
Not after the night at the club. I had gone there to make sure everything was fine with the plants that Carmine had allowed us to send there.
I hadn’t expected to find Carmine mid threesome in the back of the club.
While it was a shadowed and semi-private section, there were still plenty of prying eyes.
The near altercation in the alleyway only told me I was right to follow him out there.
I could have ignored it, let him make a fool of himself even more, but for some reason I just had to follow him. Make sure it didn’t go even worse.
Even now, as I watch Carmine from a distance in the city streets late at night, I can’t help but think about that night.
I try to focus. Keep my presence about business and business only.
Carmine steps closer to the woman he’s talking to in a dark corner between an art studio and a row of apartments.
She’s smoking a cigarette and doesn’t break her eye contact with him, but I can see it in her body language that she’s on edge.
She shifts side to side on her feet, she takes drag after drag too quickly for the vapors to settle in her lungs, and she keeps her back toward the wall behind her.
I can’t tell what they’re talking about, and I curse myself for not taking advantage of placing a bug when I had Carmine all to myself. I don’t like not knowing exactly what’s going on.
As Carmine passes over an envelope and then walks away from the woman, I find myself memorizing every little detail about the look on his face.
He looks satisfied but exhausted. His eyes are tired, dark circles underneath them, and though his hair is neatly combed and his jacket pressed, he walks back to his car a block or two over in a slow leisurely pace.
Perhaps he’s just trying to look natural. He doesn’t.
Until that night at the club, I’d never seen nor heard of him doing something so reckless. Not when it came to his own reputation.
Drawing a gun, taking a chance on a fight, threatening a rival…sure, but allowing himself to be dick out and drugged up in a place where anyone could decide to take it to their advantage? Never.
Maybe that’s part of why I continue to watch him. For the sake of my uncle and keeping tabs on everything, sure, but knowing that Carmine could throw himself under a bus at any second gives me a hell of a lot more motivation. I can’t lie.
It’s not about him. No, it’s about what he is. What him putting himself in trouble could do to not only his family, but mine.
I’d be doing this regardless of who had taken leadership after Michaelis.
At least, this is what I’m telling myself as I watch Carmine slide out of his car and rake his fingers through his hair.
He’s been out all night. The early morning sun of this Christmas Day shines over the horizon, but he’s not heading home, not yet.
Carmine is heading into one of the only coffee shops that’s open today. A small business run by an older Asian woman.
As I sit in my own car from a distance, I have to admit something hot to drink sounds good. It’s cold as fuck and I’ve been awake even longer than he has.
Just as I’m starting to get out of my car, I see a familiar figure walking up the sidewalk from the other direction.
The Carvel woman from the other night. After doing some digging, I know now that she’s Victoria Carvel.
She’s got an awfully smarmy look on her face, and she’s not alone. Her husband, Jackson Carvel is with her.
“Ah, shit,” I mumble. I grab my gun out of the glove compartment of the car and step out from the right side, walking around the car to get to the sidewalk.
Carmine is inside, seemingly unaware of the situation he’s in.
“What a coincidence. Everyone’s here to get some coffee this morning,” I say as I walk up to them but avoid walking in front of the window. I turn around so that I’m blocking their path.
“Sure are. Why don’t you get out of our way?” Jackson tells me.
I tilt my head to the side. “Oh, sure. I just wanted to ask Victoria how she liked the club the other night.”
“What’s he talking about?” Jackson asks.
Victoria waves a hand. “Nothing, baby.”
I raise a brow. I realize that Jackson seems to not know about her being at the club, but if he’s here because of Carmine, she must have told him some kind of story.
“So, you’re not here to start shit then?” I ask her with a small smile. My eyes however stare into hers.
She squirms on her feet. “No, we’re here to get coffee,” she insists. Her eyes narrow. “Awfully convenient that you’re here too.”
“And that Carmine Dresvanni is too, huh. How’d that happen?” I ask, grinning at her.
“Why do you care?” Jackson asks. “Oh, right, you Fiorellis are shacking up with them now. This is none of your business.”
“It’s Christmas. You wouldn’t really be about to go in there and cause that poor old lady some bullshit on Christmas,” I shove my hands into my pockets, my gun on my hip.
“Look, buddy—” Jackson starts, but I cut him off.
I move my jacket to the side and show them my gun casually.
“Now, Vic, at the club you sure seemed interested—” It’s Victoria who cuts me off this time.
“You know what, this ain’t worth it, Jack,” she insists, her eyes flaring with panic.
Jackson huffs. “I can take him,” he steps closer. I put my fingers on my gun. I’m prepared to pull it out if he makes another move.
“Let’s just go home. I got that special outfit, remember?” she persuades him.
Jackson smirks and looks over at her. “Alright. You’re right, this jackass ain’t worth it.”
They both eye me before turning around and heading back where they came from, to their car down the block. I hear Jackson ask Victoria as they’re walking away, “What was he saying about the club?”
I roll my eyes and turn toward the shop. “Jackass indeed,” I mumble.
During our conversation, I didn’t hear the bell ring, so Carmine must still be inside.
Quickly, I head back to my car and sigh as I sit back in the seat. A second later, he comes strolling out with not one coffee but two.
“Goddamnit, I hope those are both his,” I hiss. Then shake my head. “Nevermind. Fuck.”
I look back to the shop. Do I actually want to risk getting some coffee myself and then catching up to him?
My answer is already made for me as I turn the engine and follow after him a half minute later.
It should be expected that he’s heading back to the Dresvanni estate, but for some reason I’m surprised when he pulls into the driveway toward the gate.
And disappointed.
I can’t go any further. Not without drawing attention to myself.
All I can do is pull off and park nearby out of view, open my phone and the app to view the cameras. Now that I’m connected to them, I can see them from anywhere at any time. As long as they’re connected to the internet.
With a flick of my wrist, I pull a cigarette out and light it up as I swipe through the different cameras.
It seems they’ve got all the mess from the night and day of Michaelis’s death cleaned up now. There’s no broken and tattered Christmas tree in the family room, but there’s also no tree at all. Just a few strings of lights, and stockings on the fireplace.
I should be heading home. Pretending that I actually want to participate in whatever half-assed Christmas traditions my uncle wants to put on.
Instead, I watch the cameras until I see Carmine walk through the front door. Alessio greets him first. He doesn’t look happy, but Carmine hands him one of the coffees and his shoulders relax. He pats Carmine on the shoulder, and motions toward the direction of the family room.
I switch to that camera and watch Carmine walk in, his brothers all in there, as well as a few other people. Not just guards. Men, women, and two children. I don’t remember ever seeing them before, I don’t even know their names.
“They must be hiding them.” I open my glove compartment and find a pen and a receipt, writing down what I can see about the children.
1 girl, looks about 8 years old. Dark hair.
1 boy, looks 4 years old. Light hair.
I pause in the middle of writing. If they’re trying to keep the knowledge of them hidden, should I be writing this down?
It could be useful in the future.
My uncle would want me to.
I fold the receipt and put it back along with the pen, information intact but saved for later.
When I look at the camera again, Carmine isn’t there anymore, but neither is his stocking on the mantle. I blink and hurry to move cameras. He’s going up the stairs. I can’t see him past a certain point.
There’s a hallway camera up there, I’m pretty sure.
I switch to it, feeling my pulse quicken.
Why does this matter so much? That I need to keep my eye on him every fucking second?
Carmine turns down the hallway toward the camera. In one hand he’s holding the stocking, with the other he starts to unbutton his shirt. I find myself watching as closely as I can.
I watch him as he slides his fingertips along the opening of his shirt that reveals his chest and then tugs at his collar.
Along the edge of his neck and chest, he has dark fading marks.
Hickeys from the club.
My jaw tightens.
From those strangers. I can only assume he didn’t know them.
They had marked him.