Chapter 23
Javier lingers in my room as I pack, watching my every move.
“You work for the Esposito Family?” I question as I fold clothes and place them in a small suitcase.
“What do you do with the Esposito Family?”
“Nothing. I’m not a part of that life.”
It’s not a lie, but I am omitting a large truth.
“You questioned me about another family before,” he says. “You were in a bar that’s affiliated with the Espositos. You spin lies like spiders spin webs. So, tell me something that’s true.”
“If you work for them and you don’t know who I am, then maybe you shouldn’t.”
His eyes narrow on me but I spin around and head for my bathroom.
“I knew you were keeping things from me. I told you we were both liars, but I’ve been more honest than you, it seems. You’re a priest, I know that much is true, but you’re clearly important to a family I’ve worked with for years, and yet, I’ve never heard about you.”
“That’s not my problem,” I say, coming into the bedroom to deposit more things in the suitcase. “So, you killed Antonio for the Esposito Family?”
“Yes.”
“Who do you work for specifically?”
“Why does it matter?”
“You’re not made. I know that.”
“Clearly. The Esposito Family is Italian. I’m not.”
“But they trust you.”
“At least one of them does.”
“Where are we going and why? Can you tell me that?” I ask, spinning around to face him.
“No.”
I turn around and finish packing before swiping my phone from the bed and going to the bathroom.
I turn on the faucets and call my dad. He picks up after two rings.
“What’s wrong?”
“What’s going on?” I ask in a quiet tone.
“You safe?”
“I’m at home. Someone is here.”
“Javier?”
“Yes.”
Hearing my dad say his name feels weird, but at least I know Javier is telling the truth about this.
“You can trust him. I was going to tell you about him a little while back, but someone walked in.”
That explains the random call.
“Where am I going?”
“I’m going to call him.”
“Does he know who I am?”
“No.”
“Well, he will soon, won’t he?”
“Probably.” Dad muffles the phone and starts talking to someone on his end. “Look. Something is happening. I’ll explain in person.”
“Okay.”
Before I can even finish the word, he’s ended the call.
I take a few seconds to collect myself and then shut off the water and walk back into my bedroom.
Javier has my suitcase closed up and is holding it by the handle. “Ready?”
“I guess.”
His phone rings and I know it’s my dad.
He glances at the screen, then at me, and walks into the living room.
“Hello?”
I linger in my doorway, listening.
“That’s not what he said. No. Okay. So what’s he doing? Oh. Is that something I need to take care of? Right, of course. Well, let me know. I will. Okay.”
Stepping into the hall, I make my way to the living room. “Who was that?”
“Nobody,” he says. “Ready?”
“I don’t think I have a choice.”
“You’re right about that.”
Outside, I climb into a black Audi and settle into the leather seats as he puts my suitcase in the trunk. He gets into the driver’s seat and starts up the car, starting our journey to a location I don’t know anything about.
Neither one of us speaks for a while, both caught in our own thoughts.
After about fifteen minutes, he breaks the silence.
“Carlo. Carlo.”
“What?”
“Is that your full name?”
“Why?”
“Carlo sounds Italian. If it’s Carlos it could be Spanish.”
I see where he’s going with this, so I don’t answer. Instead, I pivot with my own question. “How did you get work with an Italian mob family? You’re not Italian, you’re covered in tattoos, and you’re bisexual. You check all the boxes of things they don’t normally put up with.”
“I’m not in the mafia,” he says simply. “And certain things are kept private.” He shoots me a look as if to warn me about his sexuality being a secret.
“Ah, so I’m not the only one keeping things to myself.”
“I’m not dumb, Carlo.” He says my name like he’s no longer sure it actually is.
We fall into another several minutes of silence as he takes a few turns and I begin to realize we’re heading out of the city’s limits.
My brain starts replaying all of our moments together, from the time he showed up in my confessional booth, to the time he was hurt and needed my help, and to his request for me to visit him in prison. None of it makes sense to me. Why? Why me? I decide to ask.
“Why did you come into St. Joseph’s that day? And don’t give me some bullshit answer about existential crisis.”
“Well, it’s not a bullshit answer. I was mostly honest. I was struggling with something that I knew could be coming.
I don’t have friends like most people. I don’t talk about my work with anyone, because as I’m sure you can understand, it’s not possible.
I don’t struggle with the work itself, because it’s what I know.
I’m not cut out to be a normal man with a normal job, but I also have been aware that I’ve been hiding and lying for years.
Could I keep up with that? I don’t know. ”
“What’s coming?” I question.
“Something work related.”
“Okay, so, I was right before. You just needed someone to talk to who couldn’t repeat what you said.”
“I was walking by. I saw the church and didn’t think much about it. I went in, met you, and was immediately intrigued, so I kept going back.”
“Intrigued by what?”
“I could sense your lies. Your falseness radiated off of you and I wanted to know more. I, too, have been lying. I thought, maybe I’m not so bad if a priest is doing the same thing as me.
” He glances in my direction. “We’re different, but we’re also a lot alike.
You became a priest at the behest of your father.
I do what I do because of my father. You’re not straight, and neither am I, and we’re both in fields where that’s not okay.
You helped me, knowing I wasn’t a good man.
You didn’t seem affronted by my actions.
Not the way any normal person would be. I told you what I’ve done, and yet, you wanted me.
Tell me how I’m not supposed to be intrigued by that. ”
“I’m not supposed to judge others—”
“Don’t. It wasn’t some priestly judge not, lest ye be judged BS.
It’s because it wasn’t foreign to you.” He stops at an intersection and stares at me, hoping for some information.
When I don’t say anything, he sighs and continues driving.
“You know I’m going to find out, right? You do know where we’re headed, even if you don’t know the location. ”
I look out the window and exhale. “Oh yeah. I know, but I don’t think you’re ready for what you’re about to find out.”