15. Carmela
Carmela
FOURTEEN YEARS AGO
T he house in Jersey is quiet when I return. I curl up in bed and spend the entire night crying into my silk pillowcase, wishing that Mick would come through the door and just hold me and tell me that he isn’t going to marry her.
He never does.
Weeks go by, and I don’t hear from him. I’m too ashamed to tell Mami and Papi. Lisa doesn’t answer my calls. I don’t blame her—I was a shitty friend.
No one ever comes to ask me to leave the house, so I don’t. I find work at a little restaurant within walking distance so I can buy groceries. The bills for the house keep coming in the mail, but when I inquire about a payment plan, it’s already been taken care of.
As time passes, I grow increasingly more uncomfortable. At first, I think it’s from my many nights in front of the TV with a sappy movie and a tub of Ben and Jerry’s. But then little things begin to trigger my brain, like the fact that I used to love eating oranges, and now they make me want to vomit. I’m tired all the time. My pants are getting tighter.
I’m as secretive as can be when I buy the pregnancy test. Terror grips me while I wait for it to either condemn me or release me from Mick’s hold forever. I pray to God that if it comes back negative, I’ll go home to Mami and Papi and beg for forgiveness. I’ll volunteer all my free time to the church and never step out of line again.
Either he doesn’t hear my prayers, or I’m too far gone for him to save. Three minutes later, when I rise from the edge of the tub to pick up the stick, there’s a clear image of two solid pink lines.
The gentlemen’s club looks just like an ordinary building, but I know what goes on beyond the beige brick walls. It’s raining, and the last thing I want to do is catch a cold, but I can’t bring myself to go inside. I tell myself I don’t want to inhale the cigar smoke—after all, it’s not good for the baby currently growing inside my stomach—but I know it’s because I don’t know how I’m going to break the news to Mick.
It’s been over two months since we’ve spoken. News about his upcoming nuptials has circulated through every New York paper and gossip column. And not once has he called to check on me. As I enter my second trimester, though, I feel like he should know that I’m pregnant with his child.
Suddenly, the rain overhead stops pouring down on me, yet it still splashes the sidewalk. Startled, I look up and then to my right to see Denise, the owner, standing next to me, holding an umbrella over us both.
“Want my advice, doll? Don’t tell him. If he finds out, you’ll be chained to him forever, and he won’t leave her for you just because he knocked you up.” She takes a long drag from her cigarette holder, blowing the smoke away from me as she gazes up at the face of her club.
My eyes widen as I stare at her. “How did you know?”
She gives me a knowing look before nodding to where my hands rest protectively over my stomach. “You’ve been coming here every day for the last week, holding your belly like it carries a shit ton of gold. It didn’t take me long to put two and two together. He’s been a miserable prick since you left him. I figured you’re standing your ground, or he’s actually trying to do right by you and let you be. But if he knew you were carrying his kid? He’ll tie you up in legal shit so fast, you’ll wish you’d never gotten involved with him in the first place.”
“I wish that now,” I grumble. I have no grand illusions that Mick will leave his fiancée to be with me and our child. But I can’t just erase the months we had together. I love him. And I know he loves me, too.
She’s silent for a few more puffs from her holder before her croaky voice fills the space between us. “Guys like him are a dime a dozen in this city. I like you, doll. The guys inside like you. And not just because you were on his arm, you always held your own. I’d be willing to revoke his membership if you wanted a job.”
“A job?” I have a job. The last thing I need is for Mick to get kicked out of this place and then find out through his friends that Denise has suited me up in lingerie to walk around and serve drinks. Besides, he’d know right away that’s why she banned him. And he’d find out I’m pregnant for sure. Who wants to see a pregnant lady serving them in lingerie?
As if reading my thoughts, Denise bumps my shoulder with hers. “You’re too valuable to work the floor. And I’m getting old. I need a successor. You can stay hidden in the office at night and learn the ropes during the day.”
“You don’t even know me. Why are you being so nice to me?” I was used to people judging me whenever they saw me with Mick. All they saw when they looked at me was a young woman who bagged the right older guy at the right time.
“Because you remind me of myself when I was your age. And while my life turned out to be a fairytale, yours won’t, doll. Not if you chain yourself to him. Now, come inside before we both catch a cold. I’ve needed a reason to quit smoking for forever, guess this is God’s way of making me stop my bad habits. Can’t be breathing in all that shit with a little one on the way.”
Over the last three months, learning how to run Denise’s gentlemen’s club has been more fun than I thought it would be. True to her word, she banned Mick, giving him the excuse that she didn't want any bad press with his political career on the rise and his wedding around the corner.
He actually agreed with her and didn’t even make a fuss.
Scott Tailor, his best friend, has also been absent lately, which means I haven’t had to worry too much about anyone seeing me. And because of that, Denise thought tonight would be a good night to let me out on the floor to shadow her.
How very wrong she was.
At nearly seven months pregnant, it’s impossible to hide it. So, when I come around the corner and almost run straight into Scott, his eyes drop to my stomach, and his mouth falls open. “Carmela?”
Instinctively, I wrap my arms around my belly, protecting my little girl as though Scott could reach right in and grab her straight from my body. I don’t feel like I need to explain myself, but I beg him, “Please don’t tell Mick.”
His eyes hold mine as he looks at me astonishingly. “Carmela, I can’t keep something like this from him. I’m assuming it’s his?”
“Yes!” I snap defensively.
“Hey, don’t come at me. He said you were upset and broke things off with him. How do I know you didn’t jump into bed with some other guy?” He holds his hands up. “What are you even doing here?”
“She works here,” Denise interrupts, appearing in the doorway that leads from the hall to the main room. “Now, you’ll keep your mouth shut if you know what’s good for you. Unless you want that pretty wife of yours to find out what you get up to behind these doors?”
Scott curls his lip with a grimace. “You have contracts for a reason, Denise. To protect your patrons just as much as your own ass. Tell my wife, I’ll have this place closed down so quick and sue you for everything you have.”
Scott has always been Mick’s nicest friend, but at this moment, I’m reminded that he’s just another rich man who thinks his money can buy him anything and that everyone owes him something.
He looks at me, his face softening as he gently warns, “Tell him, or I will, Carmela. He deserves to know. You know he does.”
Deep down, I know he’s right.
Presen t
Anders stares at me with wide eyes, mouth open in shock as his gaze bounces between me and my daughter. “Maya, go back to bed,” I command.
From my peripheral, I see Jill, the live-in nanny, pull Maya out of the kitchen by her shoulders, but my stubborn girl jerks out of her hold. “Why do you have a gun, Mom?” she asks again before turning to fix Anders with a curious stare. “And who are you ?” She bravely hops onto one of the stools at the kitchen island as she waits for him to answer her, not caring that there’s a complete stranger in our home.
He holsters his gun and watches her warily. “I’m a…friend…of your mom’s.”
“Are you her boyfriend or something?” Maya asks skeptically, looking him up and down like an overbearing father would.
Well, that escalated quickly.
“No, he’s not my boyfriend. And what are you still doing up, mijita? You should be in bed. Jill, it’s okay. I got her.” I motion to the woman to go back to her room.
“I know.” Maya’s shoulders drop. “But I was excited when Jill said you were coming home. Besides, I’m pretty sure you woke up the whole neighborhood with your screeching. Did you at least get it?”
It being the giant spider hanging from the ceiling that I nearly walked into when I entered the kitchen. When I grabbed the nearest thing to kill it, it dropped and scurried across the floor toward me with an agenda.
Fucker reared back on its hind legs like it was going to start throwing punches.
I sneak a glimpse at Anders and see him staring at me in amusement. With a shrug, I explain, “I don’t like spiders, okay?” Then, to Maya, I say, “Yes. I got it. Now, get to bed. We can talk in the morning.”
My sweet, fearless girl doesn’t listen to me. She turns her attention back to Anders instead. “Are you here for a booty call?”
“Maya!”
Anders cracks a smile and shakes his head, walking further into the kitchen to rest his arms on the island. “Why would you think that, little one?”
The way he easily melts into a conversation with my daughter tugs at my heart. I tamp down my emotions so hard that they leave an ache in my chest like when you get a shock of adrenaline.
“Why else would you be here this late? Also, why do you have a gun? And why do you have a gun, Mom? You didn’t answer me,” Maya stresses again. The need to know every little detail about every little thing is something she’s had since she was a toddler, and I hope she never grows out of it.
Men hire others to find the answers to their questions. Smart women aren’t afraid to ask questions and seek the answers for themselves.
Cocking my head to the side, I look at Anders as I reply to her, “It’s for safety. And I would also love to know why you are here this late, Anders. Or at all. Did you follow me?”
“Obviously. We need to talk.” He nods at Maya when she’s not looking. “I’m a detective, Maya. I wanted to make sure your mom got home safe. Would you mind if I borrowed her for a chat?” He’s all swoon-worthy and respectful as he asks her, and my teenager eats it right out of the palms of his hands.
Of course, he’s good with kids.
Pink blossoms on Maya’s cheeks when he addresses her. He knows what he’s doing as he flashes her a charming smile. “I promise I’ll keep her safe from any more pesky spiders.”
Maya slides off her stool and shyly tells him, “Don’t keep her up too late, okay? She owes me pancakes in the morning.”
“I promise they’ll be ready when you wake up, mijita. And if I’m still asleep when you get up, you have full permission to jump on my bed and act like an alarm clock.” I squeeze her tight when she hugs me. Mom guilt seeps into my bones about being away so much lately.
“Just remember you said that when I actually do it.” She giggles. “It was nice to meet you, Detective Anders.”
“Nice to meet you too, Maya,” he calls after her retreating form .
We’re silent until I hear her door shut upstairs and her bed creak as she bounces onto it and settles back down for the night. My nerves are on fire as Anders’ eyes burn a hole through me. “What the hell, Carmela?” His voice is low and has a subtle tinge of betrayal to it.
Sighing, I walk across the kitchen and pull out two wine glasses before selecting a bottle of red. “There’s a limited number of people who know about her. You didn’t need to know.”
“What the fuck do you mean I didn’t need to know?” he snaps. “You have someone targeting you! That’s what the nursery rhymes are all about, aren’t they? Now, they’re targeting her . That’s why you looked so scared earlier. How the fuck did you come to the conclusion this wasn’t something I needed to know ?”
“I can’t believe you followed me.” I ignore his questions and motion for him to come with me to the den on the other side of the house. He closes the door behind him without being asked and stares at me silently, waiting for an answer, while I uncork the bottle and pour us both a generous glass.
“What do you want me to say, Anders? We thought she’d be safe here. And forgive me if I didn’t want to add to the ever-growing list of reasons why you dislike me.” The sofa welcomes me as I sit, siphoning the stress of the day as I sink against the plush leather cushions and tuck my feet beneath me, holding his glass out to him.
“We?” he questions as he takes his drink and sits beside me. He tosses his arm over the back of the sofa and curls one leg up, forming a nine shape as he angles his body toward me.
I give him a pointed look as I sip my wine. He’ll figure it out on his own. I don’t need to say the words out loud.
“She’s Mick’s, isn’t she?” he finally asks.
Nodding, I avert my gaze and focus on a random spot on the floor.
“Does she know?”
I shake my head. “We thought it was better that way. He’s not on her birth certificate. They’ve met a few times in passing, but she has no idea he’s her father.” I think about the few times Maya and Mick have crossed paths, and a smile pulls at my lips. “She actually doesn’t like him very much.”
He snorts into his glass. “Smart girl. Unlike her mom.” I glare at him for his dig, earning me a shrug. “Come on, Cara. How were you stupid enough to get involved with him? Maya’s what? Twelve? Thirteen?”
“Fourteen,” I correct.
“So you were twenty when you had her? Not even of legal age to go out drinking. He should have known better. He took advantage. That’s probably why he doesn’t want anyone knowing about her. ”
I feel the need to defend Mick because it’s just as much my fault as his. I knew how old he was when I let him take my virginity. Hell, the fact that he was so much older was appealing to me.
“Mick didn’t take advantage of me. I was old enough to know better. When we met, we just clicked. I don’t know how to explain it.” I can feel my eyes turn glassy as I recall the night we met. “Mick made me feel seen. Cared for. He promised me everything I could ever want at a time when my parents wanted to keep it all from me. I wanted to be a dancer, and they wanted me to attend college. Mick promised to help me get accepted into Juilliard and said he’d pay for my tuition. He bought me nice things and took me to fancy dinners. I was only nineteen, and he was offering me the world.”
“Nineteen? Christ, Cara. I don’t care what you say. That’s taking advantage.” He sounds disgusted, but at this point I feel like there isn’t much that doesn’t disgust him.
I know it seems bad, but I will never view it that way. I might have made a lot of mistakes at that age, but I will never think of the relationship I had with Mick as one where an older man took advantage of a younger woman.
“I was old enough to know better, Anders,” I reiterate. “I wanted it.”
He shakes his head and huffs out a breath, motioning around the room. “So what happened then? How do you go from that to this?”
I try to choose my words carefully. But I know that no matter what I say, Mick is going to look like the asshole in this situation that became our life. “One night, he told me that he was going to marry Kate. We’d been together for six months at that point. I thought he’d ask me to marry him, eventually. I was completely blindsided and told him I wouldn’t be his mistress. In the end, he chose her.”
Tears sting my eyes as I relive that night. I blink furiously to keep them at bay, refusing to look at Anders, who is probably thinking about how much of a fucking idiot I am. “I found out a few weeks later I was pregnant. I debated telling him, but Jackson’s uncle, Scott, found out months later and basically told me if I didn’t tell him, he would.”
“So what? He buys you this cushy house? Tries to keep you quiet as long as he pays for everything?”
Shaking my head, I drain my wine and get up to get more. “No, he bought the house for us. He knew he was going to have to marry Kate the whole time. I think he thought if he could get me settled before he had to announce it, that I’d be okay staying sequestered away here in Jersey.”
“But you have an apartment in the city, we were there together the entire time you were recovering. Who watches Maya when you’re not here?” His questions bring the mom guilt back full force. I bring the bottle back, topping his glass off before setting it on the floor.
“We have a live-in nanny, Jill. She’s been with us since Maya was a baby. But sometimes Valentina comes by to check on her when Jill has time off. Between the restaurant and the club, I spend a lot of time in the city, so it seemed like a good idea to get an apartment there as well. Most nights, I try to make it home. But lately, for obvious reasons, I’ve made excuses about working late so I don’t draw attention to this house.”
Anders looks like he’s lost in thought, and I let him work through whatever he’s thinking about. Eventually, he says, “The letters make sense now. At least some of the stuff in them. The one that called you a cheater and a political breeder. Whoever is sending the letters already knows about Maya.”
Dread twines into a tight ball in the center of my chest. Anders is just voicing my fears, but hearing them spoken out loud brings them to life.
“Does Kate know about Maya?” Anders asks.
“No. And even if she did, I don’t think she’s the one responsible for the letters. Kate’s a bitch, but she’s not unhinged.” I don’t want to admit that the thought has already crossed my mind more than once. Kate was never able to get pregnant. The taunts in the letter about wanting to be the wife but not being able to beat her, Kate would seem like the obvious suspect. But I feel like whoever is behind them wants us to think that.
It’s too obvious.
Not to mention she has too much to lose if she was caught.
“You’re sure she never saw you with Mick when you were pregnant?” Anders presses.
I shake my head. “I didn’t meet Kate until a few years later.”
“Hmm.” He gets that faraway look again before asking, “Where does the club fit into all this? How did you end up with it?”
“Before we turned it into Désirer, it was a small gentlemen’s club run by a lady who took me in when she found out I was pregnant. I worked under her, shadowing her and training to take over so I could support Maya on my own. But then Scott found out, and I had to tell Mick. Mick didn’t want me to work, of course, and said he’d take care of everything, but at that point, I saw the potential in what the club could be. My dreams of dancing might have been stolen away from me, but I envisioned a place where I could help others achieve their dreams and desires. He respected that dream and helped me make it a reality.”
Anders snorts. “So he bought you a whorehouse to keep you happy? Sounds like such a winner.”
Anger courses through me. I created Désirer so people could explore themselves freely. What the fuck is so wrong with that?
“What is your deal with my job? You have had no problem performing, and you are obviously a highly sexual man, so what’s the problem, Anders? Why does liking sex make me so undesirable in your eyes? You have no problem fucking around with me. So what gives? Did you find out an ex-girlfriend was fucking guys on the side or something? Thought you were exclusive and found out she was a prostitute?”
From the way his eyes darken and a scowl settles over his handsome face, I can tell I hit the nail right on the head.
Well, shit.