Chapter 37 #4
Eamon resumes his story. “When the cops started busting in our doors, we suspected some other kind of gang or sudo mafia was trying to take us out. Law enforcement seemed to know too much. We tried weeding out the bad apples in town, questioning involved parties, and tracking down anyone who may have a grudge against us. Nothing ever surfaced. Until… I was led to you, little fish. My father—” He shakes his head as if struggling within himself.
“My father… so blinded by his rage, thinks the Lombardis duped him into a false sense of security. Somehow convinced you killed my mother as penance for Theo.”
A gasp slips from me, before I can cover my mouth. “You know that’s not true. I’d never do that… my family could never do that!” The words pour from me as if my urgency could validate the claim. “I didn’t even know I was a Lombardi until recently!”
He searches my face then nods with finality. “I know that.”
Thank fuck! I fill my lungs which I seem to be depriving as of late.
“But my father and sister are convinced you’re at fault.
They won’t listen to reason. I was given a timeline.
To learn what I can. Get close to you… but I’m out of time.
My hands are tied without any proof that you're innocent. For some confounding reason, he believes your family is still running this town. Even from afar.”
I feel ill. What am I supposed to do with all of this? How am I going to find answers about Theo’s death and prove that my family aren’t murderers? Why does everyone only tells me things on a need-to-know basis? So much confusion could have been avoided if everyone was simply more forthcoming!
Eamon pursuing me, taking me out, kissing me, only to validate I was or was not some sort of assassin?
Rude. Feelings aside, I should be more concerned about the potential impending war between two powerful crime families, and me being somehow caught in the middle.
Why can’t my life be more like a Sandra Bullock film as opposed to a Soprano finale?
Eamon closes his laptop just as Jada appears and sets down two more containers of vodka. “Have you found anything?” he mouths each word, so only I understand in this busy room.
I dry my sweaty palms down the front of my pants, feeling the tiny rectangle in my front pocket for safe keeping.
This is not leaving my side until I identify what’s on it.
Before I can think better of it, I tell him no.
I glance over my shoulder to the man that has monitored me.
Even though Eamon seems to “believe,” that my family is innocent in all this, I still heed Dax’s warning.
Eamon was a prince, for all intents and purposes, to a powerful family empire. I need to proceed with caution.
Eamon rubs at his eyes, clearly exhausted. He begins gathering his items within a leather case. “Don’t give up… you’re bound to find something,” he delivers with a forced smile.
Jada reaches Eamon, just as he pulls the case onto his shoulder. Maneuvering around her, he heads out the red door of the bar. I have trouble holding in the chuckle at Jada’s pitiful attempt to get our boss to notice her. If looks could kill, she’d have me mounted on the wall.
Brittany pops up and asks me to bring over five Smithwick’s to table six, so she can use the restroom. Just as I’m rounding the counter, Jada materializes before me. I try to balance the tray while avoiding her, but she moves into my path, intentionally bumping my arm that carries the drinks.
“Oh fuck!” Half of the beers tip over, drowning me in amber colored ale. My clothes are saturated, all thanks to her. Regardless of the icy liquid, my face swells with red-hot frustration.
Jada knowingly puts a hand to her mouth and gasps for dramatic flair. “Oops! How clumsy of me. I didn’t see you there.” She continues to the back, not sparing me a second thought.
Brittany tosses a bar towel to me and I begin dabbing at my clothes the best I’m able.
Screw her, if she thinks that will make me leave.
I’m finishing MY shift. Dax, like some sort of mind reader, has kept a healthy distance from me.
He doesn’t have to speak for me to know.
I see it in his eyes. It’s not a sympathetic stare…
no. It’s a look that tells me, you got this.
I’m right here. Dax reminds me of a watchdog.
The capacity to delete the nuisance animal that brazenly walks the fence line of what he’s meant to guard, however he hushes the internal beast, the one I know lies within him.
Each new interaction with this man has been unexpected, but I’ve never felt safer.
Somehow, he coaxes me to step out of my daily comfort zone.
I’m becoming more assertive, even if it means my choices don’t come with guarantees.
He has me distracted… unable to help stealing glances at his beautifully-shadowed face.
When our gaze meets across the room, it causes every muscle in my body to tighten.
I’m reminded of what he did to me in the bathroom.
The secrets we share and all the ways he’s made me succumb. I have no apologies for any of it.
That night, after a well-deserved shower and finally being able to remove the custom toy Dax reinserted, I’m able to focus on what I found earlier.
My imagination runs wild with the possibilities.
What will I find on the SD card? Pulling a massive hoodie over my cleaned body, I climb into bed with my outmoded laptop and enough adrenaline to pull an all-nighter. My phone lights up next to me.
Dax the Friendly Stalker: You should leave it off.
I bite my top lip to keep from smiling. Of course he’s spying on me.
Setting down the phone on the bed, I begin looking at all the different cavities on either side of the laptop.
I need to figure out what’s on this thing!
Turning over the tiny card in my hand, I begin sizing up the item to each port.
“Damnit! Which hole does it go in?!” Instantly, my phone vibrates.
Another text from Dax the Friendly Stalker. A series of emojis... a taco, a peach, and lips, followed by a shrugging man.
“Har, har!” I sneer to the obviously empty room.
Wait… he can hear me? I’m curious how many times he’s heard me moan from my vibrator, before I even knew of his presence.
Shaking the thought from my mind, I bury the phone beneath my pillows, now, stubbornly determined to get the device to read without intervention.
No cavity appears compatible. Nothing is the right size or it’s already occupied.
God, I’m glad I didn’t just say that out loud.
I have no doubt Dax would climb through my window looking to put all those innuendos to the test.
With my nail, I push on one of the ports that has something thin and plastic within.
The part pops out, a bigger version of the microSD card I found in the tarantula tank.
The words read: San Disk Adapter. Of course…
there wasn’t a place for the tiny card, it needed this converter thingy!
I remove the smaller card within and slide in the found microSD card into the adapter.
Like a glove, it clicks into the side of the computer.
Nothing happens. Shit. Did I break something?
Should I remove it and blow on it? It worked for the Sega cartridges.
I take a deep breath in and tell myself to be patient.
Waiting for something to happen makes me want to get up and pace the length of my room or throw up.
Probably both with an undertone of all consuming dread.
I begin clicking around the desktop frantically, looking for any sign of a file or anything that I could have missed.
Is it blank? Ruined from sitting in Thelma’s hide for years?
! No. I can’t think like that. Something has to be on it.
I inadvertently began nibbling at the skin on the side of my nailbed, all the while staring unwavering at the home screen.
Was I about to learn something awful… like how my brother died or was this as unimportant as a compilation of Theo’s poetry?
I can’t deal with more dead ends, especially when half the Murray family is ready to blame the Lombardis for Mary’s death!
My stomach pitches and drops like a raging rapid, when I recall everything that’s come to light this week.
I’m a Lombardi. The notorious Mafia family.
“Sssssss… Ouch!” I peer downward to find the side of my thumb now raw and bleeding from my incessant chewing. Frustrated, I grab the computer and give it a shake. “Argghh… give me something!”
Without warning, a notification pops up just above the taskbar.
My hands begin to quake as I lower the laptop back onto the bed.
I dare not breathe for fear that the small window could vanish.
Carefully, I use the track pad and right-click the bar on the bottom of the screen, selecting Read Removable Disk.
A new window instantly appears, containing only one folder.
Choosing the first document, I notice it’s named: “I’m Sorry.
” I suck in air, desperate to fight the overwhelming clash of emotions.
Hot tears of relief begin streaming down my cheeks.
Holy shit. It’s from Theo. There’s actually something on it!
As much as I crave answers, a minor part of me is panicked. What if I don’t see my brother the same way anymore? I have a sinking feeling that everything is going to change after viewing this file. I suck in a deep breath and click Open.