Chapter 29
FRANKIE
Iwalk out of the conference room with my head held high. All the way to the elevator, I’m feeling pretty good about myself. It gives me a sense of power to know that Sofia’s afraid. But as soon as the elevator doors close and I’m alone with my thoughts, I begin to reconsider.
Real men don’t make the women in their lives feel afraid.
If I was actually in love with her, I would have been more focused on solutions and less on throwing my weight around.
I know that because I come from a mafia family, I can intimidate people.
But that doesn’t mean I’m going to let anything bad happen to her.
She hurt me. And that was really all I could focus on. But now, in the cold light of day, I wish I had picked a better course. I don’t know what I’m going to do from here. Simply knowing that she’ll be watching over her shoulder seemed to address my concerns, at first.
I know that what I’ve done to her is worse than anything my father could dream up. Breaking kneecaps or smashing windows only serves to bring pain and destruction. Whereas I unleashed hell on Sofia that only she can truly comprehend.
I wonder if she’ll be able to sleep at night.
Will she pick up and go somewhere else to escape from me?
Will she continue her project, knowing that it could result in her death?
I’m not sure. Half of me hopes that she’s able to pick herself up and brush herself off.
She deserves something better, and I don’t want to stand in her way.
Our relationship is over, and I’ve burned that bridge irrevocably, if there ever was a chance of reconciliation. By the time the elevator reaches the ground floor, all my excitement has vanished. I feel horrible.
I walk out the front door to my car and sit in the driver’s seat. Staring out my windshield at Sofia’s office building, I try to sort through the wreckage of my feelings. I need a fresh start. I’m tired of shadowing my father’s operatives. I need something that will wash my soul clean.
With no specific agenda in mind, I pull out of the parking garage and onto the street. I’m making decisions with my subconscious mind at this point. Each turn I take is automatic. I’m not considering my final destination.
I find myself on the freeway, going God knows where. I look at the road signs and step on the gas. The highway takes me out of the city, and I feel a modicum of relief at each passing mile.
One exit looks familiar. I know I’ve taken it several times before. It’s the exit for the university where Marlena’s brother goes. I suppose he would be my uncle-in-law, although technically, he’s a few years younger than I am.
Brandon was kidnapped by Carlo Andretti a couple of years ago, and he never really got over it.
My father extended his protection, but Brandon didn’t want it.
He didn’t want to go on the run either, electing to continue his studies even though he knew it would be dangerous.
So far, Andretti has remained underground.
Although, of course, he sent that letter to my father indicating that he’s still around and paying attention.
I decide to pop in on Brandon and see how he’s doing. Maybe I can use the excuse that Andretti has resurfaced to explain what I’m doing there. I don’t really want to go into the specifics of my drama with Sofia. I need time to mull over what happened between us before I’m ready to talk with anyone.
I hope Brandon will be home, and not away on vacation or something. I have his phone number and email address, but I hadn’t decided to visit him until now. By the time I pull over to text him, I’ll already be there. So it looks like I’m just going to show up out of the blue and hope for the best.
Brandon has an apartment near campus with three of his friends. I’ve visited twice before, and I know Marlena disapproves. She wishes that Brandon would let my father pay the bills so he could get a nicer place on his own.
Brandon wasn’t exactly polite when he said that he didn’t want my father’s money.
He maintains strained relations with our family, even though we all feel like he’s part of our brood.
I pull into the parking lot near his building and shut my engine off.
Getting out of the car, I stretch. It’s been a three-hour drive and I’m tired and thirsty.
At least I’m not focused on the guilt surrounding Sofia.
That’s the point of this whole exercise: to forget about her.
I cross the parking lot and enter the building on the left side. There’s an external stairway that goes up to the second floor. I don’t have a key, but there’s a girl coming out at the same moment I’m trying to get in. She holds the door open with a smile, and I give her a friendly nod.
People are so accommodating. That’s something my father likes to stress. Most people don’t realize something illegal is going on until it’s too late. I don’t like to take advantage, but there are certain times when I’m pleased that the general public is so trusting. Now is one of those times.
I walk down the hall to locate Brandon’s door. There’s no buzzer, so I knock and wait patiently while whoever’s inside comes to the door.
“Who is it?” someone asks from the apartment.
“Frankie Corello,” I announce. “I’m Brandon’s in-law.”
“Sure,” the person answers, opening the door. It swings back to reveal a skinny young man in a giant sweatshirt. “I remember you.”
He doesn’t say anything more than that, simply leaves the door open and walks away. I enter cautiously, checking all the corners and hidden places out of habit. I spot one person at the kitchen table staring into a bowl of cereal. There’s another person on the couch in the living room watching TV.
“Brandon?” I ask.
The person watching television raises his hand.
It’s hard to see in the apartment since all the blinds are drawn.
Someone has taken the added precaution of hanging a sheet over the window, blocking out even more of the sun’s light.
The effect is that the place looks like a vampire’s den.
Nobody inside is speaking, and there’s a general low level of energy that permeates all the residents.
“Hey,” I respond, moving over to the couch.
Brandon looks up but doesn’t move. “Frankie.”
“Mind if I come in?” I ask even though I’m already inside.
“No, have a seat,” he replies, moving a pizza box out of the way so I can sit down.
I know Brandon is supposed to be working on his degree, but I don’t see a lot of studying going on here. There are no books or computers anywhere in sight. And there’s a smell that lets me know people aren’t cleaning regularly.
“How are things going?” I ask.
“Same old,” Brandon says. He finally smiles, which is a good sign. But he doesn’t turn the television off. Instead, he gives me about a tenth of his attention, while the other ninety percent is directed at the screen.
“Your sister says hi,” I share.
“How’s she doing?” Brandon asks, but I get the feeling he doesn’t really care.
“She’s good,” I say. “You know, morning sickness and all that.”
“Yeah,” Brandon replies.
“You’re gonna be an uncle,” I tease him, hoping to get some kind of conversation started.
“I’m already an uncle,” Brandon mutters. “Aren’t you my nephew?”
I frown, not wanting to get into the specifics of our very strange family.
I want to ask him if I can stay for a while, or if he minds hanging out.
But he seems only marginally invested in reality, and I guess he would hardly notice if I moved in and started paying rent.
I relax into the chair and swing my gaze to the TV.
It’s a 1980s cop show we’re watching. The actors are all over the top, and the plot line is ridiculous. At first, I’m resistant to watching it, but the more I study the costumes and the setting, the more I’m intrigued.
“He’s never going to catch the guy if he does that,” I say, objecting to one of the chase scenes.
“He always gets his man,” Brandon observes.
“What show is this?” I wonder.
“Crisis Unit,” Brandon says.
“I never heard of it,” I reply.
“Maybe you don’t watch enough television,” Brandon suggests.
“Or maybe you watch too much?” I goad him.
“Whatever,” he mumbles.
I realize that if I push any harder, I’m going to lose the chance to spend any time here.
I don’t want to get into a fight with Brandon, and it seems like I should keep my opinions to myself.
I’m not actually sure what I’m doing here, but watching this dumb cop show with Marlena’s brother is as good an activity as any I could come up with.
In fact, I haven’t come up with anything at all.
I settle down to watch three more episodes before Brandon is motivated to do anything. “Are you hungry?” he asks.
“I could eat,” I agree.
“You want to order a pizza?” Brandon suggests.
“Sure,” I say.
“You pay?” he asks.
I exhale in frustration. “Of course.” I pass him my phone so that he can order something over the delivery app.
“What do you want?” Brandon asks.
“Just a couple slices of cheese,” I say.
“Hey, Mark!” Brandon shouts.
The guy who answered the door comes out of his bedroom, looking red-eyed.
“What kind of pizza do you want?” Brandon asks.
Mark shrugs. He doesn’t even look at me, but turns around and walks back into his room. If there is little light in the living room, there is practically none in Mark’s room. I’m not sure how he navigates without bumping into furniture, unless he’s completely nocturnal.
“I’m ordering cheese!” Brandon shouts.
“Awesome!” Mark replies.
Brandon passes the phone back to me and then turns up the volume on the TV.
“So, how are your classes going?” I ask, in an attempt to figure out what’s really going on here. Marlena would be distressed to see her brother living this way. It doesn’t look like he’s doing anything with his life, and his roommates are even worse.
“Fine,” Brandon replies, making it clear that he doesn’t want to talk about school.