41. Tyson
FORTY-ONE
TYSON
By the time we cross California state lines, the three of us are exhausted, and itching to get out of this car.
We’ve made stops, staying at hotels to catch a few hours of sleep, but for the most part, Massi and I took turns eating up the miles, racing to make it back in time for the Bloody Wedding – as Carter has so graciously dubbed it.
Now, we stand behind her as she faces her childhood home, and although Massi offered to scale the house, climb through the windows, and extract the things we need without her having to step foot on the property, Carter wanted to face this head on.
Most of the time, I can read her thoughts, and in this particular instance, while she’s afraid of the memories that live inside those walls, it’s one more thing she’s determined to conquer, but I’m always convinced of her strength, knowing that when her mind is set, it’s set in stone.
In about two days, Carter is expected to be at a church downtown, vowing to love a man ’til death do them part, but little does he know, that day is coming much sooner than expected.
“You okay, baby girl?” I ask, concerned that while she is the embodiment of all things tough, she has been eerily silent since we left our hotel this morning.
“I’m fine. Let’s get this over with.” She replies coldly, puffing out her chest and forcing one foot in front of the other, while Massi and I lower our baseball caps, keeping our faces covered and away from security cameras.
We stay two steps behind her, walking as if we’re her bodyguards, but in my bones, I know the risk we’re taking because if this plan goes wrong, if even one chef or maid alerts the Don that we’re here, we’ll lose the upper hand.
Trying to convince Carter of something is like screaming at a wall, though, Her Stubbornness claiming that this part of the plan was necessary, and that we were forced to follow along, or stay behind.
“Miss Cassini! Did you forget something? Surely I can have a car sent over to the Villas with whatever you need,” the gate guard smiles, his hands hovering over the access button, rather than his weapon, which is a positive sign.
“No need, Arch. My father sent these two to help me gather my things. How’s Angie and the kids?” She motions toward Jasper and I, both of us keeping our heads low, and I tune out the conversation they’re having, my attention focused on the house, noting if anyone is looking our way.
Since we’ve stepped onto the property, Massi has been dead silent, and I’m surprised he hasn’t tried to strangle Arch, the security guard, for speaking to Carter.
He’s been on edge since we reentered the States, muttering to himself about bombing this house, and everyone left inside solely because they were on the premises while she was being tortured in the basement.
It took a lot to calm him down, and so far, it seems like it’s worked, but if another staff member approaches us, I’m afraid he may snap.
Finally, after a few more traded words and laughs, the security guard opens the iron metal gates, and we follow the stone path to the front of the house as if we belong here.
It’s not lost on me how beautiful the Cassini property is, the landscaping and gardening absolutely pristine, but the house itself is monstrous, the u-shaped mansion boasting a statement of lavish luxury as we approach the cul-de-sac driveway.
Thankfully, the front door is unlocked, but nobody bats an eye as we pass two guards, and a maid vacuuming the entryway, even though it’s early as hell in the morning.
Carter greets them all by name, each person acknowledging her sweetly, and although these people were complicit in her imprisonment, most of them probably had no clue what was truly happening right under their noses.
They’re hired help, not actual members of the Family, and Carter has a soft spot for the staff, remembering that most of them have worked for her father since she was just a little girl.
“Up here, on the left,” she whispers, keeping her eyes forward, but skimming her fingers along the wall, tracing a path in the wallpaper like muscle memory.
Rather than ask why, or what significance that has to her, I continue on, only stopping once we reach the end of the hallway, her hand lingering above the doorknob for a beat before she pushes through, revealing her childhood bedroom to us.
“There’s three bags on the top shelf. Can one of you taller folk grab them?” She laughs to ease the tension, shutting the door as we usher into the room like giants, a place I never thought I’d see.
After learning Carter’s real identity – and being convinced she had a terrible childhood – I didn’t think a visit to her home was in the cards.
It’s always been different for the three of us, normalcy out the window, even though we tried the ‘meet the parents’ shtick back in Emory, and it failed miserably.
Of course, these are bizarre circumstances, considering that if we get caught, we’re all fucked seven ways to Sunday, and Carter will have to marry a man she doesn’t know, but I push all that negativity aside, following her direction and locating the black duffel bags inside the walk-in closet.
“We’re almost done, Principessina. You’ve been so brave, so incredible,” Jasper says, finally breaking his silence as he guides Carter to the opposite side of the room, being the very thing she needs to lean on as we complete a nostalgic phase of the plan that has the ability to lure her back into a fit of depression.
Just as I grab the bags down, I nearly drop each one, the sheer weight in them concerning, but I turn my attention to Carter, watching as she removes a floral painting from the wall, revealing the gun safe hidden behind it like a cliche you’d see in the movies.
“Jesus Christ, my little international spy, do you have any more hidey holes or gadgets around here?” Massi laughs, stepping back and marveling at the metal, trailing his fingers around the digital lock.
“The code is eleven, fifteen, sixty four,” she riddles off numbers, the combination sounding like a birthday, but Massi doesn’t ask what it stands for, and neither do I.
Once the lock pops open, I toss one of the lighter bags to her, while Massi stashes the weapons, cash, and jewelry inside, our first stop of the mission complete.
“You could buy a small village with all of this, Carter,” I joke, slinging the bags over my shoulder, but she only winks in response, her little way of saying ‘I told you so.’
“My father’s office is on the opposite side of the house. All we need is the location of the Villas they’ll be staying at this weekend, and we’ll be out of here,” she smiles, leading us down a series of hallways, stopping when we reach another staircase, different from the one we came up.
Carter takes the stairs like a graceful, dainty fairy who barely makes a peep, while Massi and I stomp down the wood like elephants, even though I’m trying to make my steps as light as possible.
Getting caught, or seen by another staff member looking to chat, would put quite the wrench in our plans, but Carter makes quick work of the hallways, leading us to a door with another code lock.
“Same one as my safe,” she says softly, her fingers guiding over the keypad with ease, but I catch myself holding my breath, afraid that alarm bells and sirens are going to bounce off these walls, clueing every person in the mansion into our presence.
“Lighten up, Tyson. I’ve been sneaking into my dad’s office since I was a little girl.” Carter notices my unease, laughing it off with a kiss to my cheek as she ushers me over to the desk. “I know it’s old, but do you think you can hack it?”
“Piece of cake, baby girl,” I reassure her, cracking my knuckles as I attempt to decipher this ancient computer likely bought in the nineties.
It reminds me of the one I had in our family living room growing up, but every hacker has to start somewhere, and luckily, I know the operating system like the back of my hand.
Massi and Carter nervously pace the room like caged tigers, taking turns pressing their ear to the door to listen for footsteps, but before long, I’ve located the Don’s calendar, it not even password protected.
“I’ve got it. Carter, does this address sound familiar?” I ask, waving her over, and she quickly skims over the location, nodding with approval.
“One of our Villas. I know exactly where he is,” she says, an evil smirk creeping across her pretty face, the devilish energy radiating off her body.
“Write it down. No phones, not in here,” Massi jumps in, snatching a notepad off the desk and pushing it toward me, a raging fire in his eyes.
He’s not typically the paranoid type, but being within a single digit mile radius of Carter’s father again has him on edge, a place where he could snap someone’s neck for giving him a dirty look.
“Alright, let’s get out of here.” Carter sways her hips, the cheeriness of another win stashed under our belts bringing out the playful side of her, but I know her well enough by now.
The root of her mood stems from the fact that we just found our target, a bullseye drawn on a map, and that alluring smile won’t be wiped off her lips until she gets a taste of her ultimate craving.