10. Lydia
LYDIA
The restaurant is a few blocks away from the boutique, and over the plate of bread and sparkling water, I learned that Anastasio was much more personable than I’d ever thought him to be.
But as personable as he is, he also knows exactly how much information about my husband that he has to withhold from me.
For starters, I try my best to learn more about Nico’s childhood, and all Anastasio tells me is that he’s not at liberty to discuss.
So much for my plan.
But this has been a nice change of pace over the last two days, and I can almost–keyword, almost–ignore the guilt nipping at the edge of my conscience amidst the low hum of other people’s conversation lulling me into believing that I might actually be able to be invisible again.
Maybe that was why I didn’t see him at first.
I catch the familiar dark NYPD blue from the corner of my eye first, and the hair on the back of my neck rises slightly in warning when his gym-built physique materializes through the crowd.
Where most men get fatter and lose themselves over seven years, my stepfather Frank has done the opposite. His face is still clean shaven, his blue eyes are still cold, and what remains of his hair is cleverly hidden underneath his cap.
“Lyddie?”
My stomach drops away at the sound of that familiar grating voice.
Slowly, I turn and see him standing next to my table. And all of a sudden, I’m a child again, listening behind my door with tears in my eyes to the sound of Mom begging while Frank and his friends laugh.
“I thought that was you,” he says as he looks at my new clothes. “How the hell does a girl like you get the money for those clothes?”
I don’t dare to meet his gaze as I cast my eyes down and pretend to pick at the bread.
“I asked you a question, Lyddie.”
Anastasio is already on his feet. He steps between us with his hands loose at his sides and his expression rearranging into that of a pitbull ready to do violence.
"This is a private lunch," he says. "I’m going to have to ask you to leave the lady alone, officer."
“That right?” Frank looks him up and down, his eyes stopping for a moment on Anastasio’s hands before he turns his shoulder to tap the OCCB badge. “You think you scare me, son?”
The Organized Crime Control Bureau–better known as OCCB–is where Frank has been working since he joined the force from day one. After he married Mom, not a day goes by that he doesn’t brag about another organized crime family that he and his friends busted.
And from how Anastasio’s eyes narrow at that badge without a response, it seems like Anastasio knows that of all the cops in New York City, Frank Carpenter might be the only one that can cause real problems for the D’Ambrosio Family.
“Now that you know who you’re fucking with.” Frank’s voice remains pleasant. “How about you fuck off and give me a moment to talk to my daughter.”
Anastasio doesn’t move.
“Now.” The pleasantness disappears from Frank’s voice.
“Anastasio,” I say quietly. “Go wait by the car. I’ll come find you in a bit.”
He looks from me to Frank. When he sees that neither of us is going to change our minds, he gives me a small nod and walks away, making sure to shoulder-check Frank in the process as he reaches for his phone.
“Smart kid.” Frank snickers as he sits down and pops a piece of bread in his mouth. “Friend of yours?”
“What do you want, Frank?” I ask.
“Was wondering when I’d see you again, Lyddie. Especially after I found out about what happened to Morrison at home two days ago. I was worried.”
My hand squeezes the napkin in my lap into a ball as I recall that cop walking up the stairs, the sound of Nico’s gun, and the hole in that man’s head.
“You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”
“How could I?” I fight to keep my voice even. “I haven’t been home in seven years.”
“You know it’s a crime to lie to an officer, right? Obstruction of justice and all that.” He leans forward and pats my face before he gives my cheek a hard squeeze that lingers just a little too long.
“Stop it, Frank.” I wince and recoil from his touch, fighting the sudden nausea threatening to overwhelm me, but he doesn’t let me go.
“Your mother misses you, Lyddie.” His voice is oily smooth as he keeps squeezing my cheek. “She wants me to tell you that she’s real sorry she missed your call the other night.”
“Let me go,” I whisper through clenched teeth as tears start brimming at my eyes. “Please.”
I hate that he’s mentioning Mom like this so casually, like he isn’t the fucking reason why I haven’t seen her in seven years.
He clucks his lips as his eyes start sweeping down my legs, lingering too long on my thighs. “Oh, baby girl, don’t be like that. Your mother and I are just worried about you. Come home, Lyddie.”
“Fuck you, Frank.” I hate that he keeps calling me that. “Is my mom alright?”
“She’s alive,” he says.
“That’s not what I asked.”
He gives my cheek one last hard squeeze and then finally lets go. The pain lingers but I don’t reach up to touch it.
“What even is alright when it comes to that woman?” He leans back and crosses his arms. “She’s so fucking high half the time she doesn’t even know who I am anymore.”
“And whose fault is that, Frank?” I snap.
His face darkens, and all pretense of civility evaporates.
Before I can respond, he stands up and points a sausage-thick finger in my face.
“You shut your fucking mouth, girl. All I’ve ever done is put a roof over your head when the two of you needed one, and the only fucking thing I ask for is a little respect. ”
Then, he freezes and his eyes are looking down. At first, I think he’s looking at my chest, but it’s only when I follow his gaze that I realize he’s looking at the ring on my left hand.
“Well.” He reaches down, grabs my wrist, and his voice goes deadly quiet. “Guess that explains how you came into all this money, Lyddie.”
I try to wrench my hand back but he’s too strong. He leans in even closer, and I can smell the stale coffee and cigarette on his breath. “This is your last fucking warning, you little whore. Come home or–”
But I never find out what he’ll do next. One second, Frank’s face is inches from mine. The next, he’s yanked back and I find myself staring up as Nico picks him up by his collar, bellowing.
“Take your filthy hand off my wife!”