Chapter 19
Chapter Nineteen
Joey
Yesterday was a day I could’ve lived without. I’m not loving the conversation Cormac and I are having right now any more than I did my terrified sprint into the public library. I have to tread lightly because I don’t know how much I can share.
“Why would Enrique tell me to ask you about your family tree?”
I knew that question was coming once he told me he spoke to Enrique at his parents’ house. I fight the urge to fidget. This is when I should admit everything. But I don’t know where things are going with Cormac. I want to tell him I love him, and I think that’s what he wanted to say yesterday, but we weren’t alone. Love isn’t enough to convince me to share my family tree or history. If Cormac and I aren’t planning a definite future together, then it isn’t worth saying anything. But if we are planning a future together, and I don’t tell him, it’ll all go up in a roaring blaze. It’d be way worse than a puff of smoke.
“I’m certain he knows what part of Mexico I’m from. It’s impossible not to know how the cartels work there. Some of my mom’s side of the family has been there for six generations, and my dad’s side has been there even longer.”
I’m hedging, and I’m certain he knows it. He observes me, and I know he’s giving me the chance to come clean. I offer him nothing, and I keep my expression neutral. I want to give nothing away. But maybe not being more expressive tells him more than my silence.
“Cormac, my family’s wealthy. It’s inevitable they’ve had contact with the cartels. Enrique’s fishing.”
I’m certain of the last part. The first part isn’t untrue either.
“What does your father do?”
“He’s the CEO of an investment firm.” My parents trained me to say that as soon as I was old enough to understand that question.
“And your mom?”
“She owns an art gallery.”
“Did you and your brother move here at the same time?”
I shake my head. “I came a couple years before him. He came for work, then his MBA. He’s in his last year at Columbia. I left Mexico and went straight into grad school here. He took a few years off between undergrad and grad school.”
My heart’s racing even though I keep my breathing steady. I need to change the topic fast.
“What does your mom do?”
“She’s an orthodontist.”
That surprises me. I don’t know why, but it does.
“No wonder everyone’s teeth are perfect in your family.”
It’s true. They could all be on a toothpaste or teeth whitening commercial.
“Yeah, well, we all had braces around the same time, so I don’t think anyone ate a potato chip in our family for three years. It wasn’t worth facing her with a broken bracket.”
“Is—is?—”
“Yes, my dad and uncles are in, but they’re as retired as one can be. With six sons among them, the three of them stepped back once all of us were in our positions.”
He only offers that, so I don’t ask. It’s one thing for me to know his family is mob. It’s another to poke around.
This is the first time we’ve been at a loss for what to say next. We’ve talked about our families before, but we’ve studiously stayed away from his dad’s occupation, so he hasn’t asked me about my parents’. Because I didn’t think I should ask about his dad, I didn’t ask about his mom either.
“What would you like to do today, little one?”
My heart slows now that we’re moving on. “I don’t know. It’s a nice day out. Do you want to go for a run?”
“Sure.”
I’ve started keeping some clothes here since I come over at least twice a week, and I spend most of the weekend here. I have a toothbrush, a bottle of perfume, and a contact case and saline in his bathroom. He has my favorite kind of cereal on top of his fridge and my preferred flavors of Greek yogurt inside. I’ve kept a toothbrush at a few guys’ places, but I’ve never arrived one day and found foods I like in their fridge. It makes me think Cormac wants something long term, but we still haven’t defined our relationship beyond we’re dating exclusively and are sexually monogamous.
We change and head out. The sun’s bright and warm with a light breeze. It’s perfect. I know it has to be hot for Cormac since he’s wearing a sweatshirt. I know he has his gun holstered at his lower back. I don’t know how that’s comfortable. Maybe he’s just so used to it he doesn’t think about it.
When we get to the end of the first block, we have to stop for the light. I glance back and recognize Finn jogging toward us.
“Cor, Finn’s coming.”
“I know. I texted him while you were in the bathroom. He’s joining us on the run. I don’t feel comfortable not having guards with us even though we’re in my neighborhood. I want to make sure we’re extra cautious.”
“And you need your cousin to do that?”
“Absolutely.”
“Don’t you have regular guards for this kind of thing?”
“I do if I were by myself. Joey, your security detail will always be somebody from my family now. I can’t always be there, and it wouldn’t be good for us if I were always attached to you. After yesterday, I only trust the members of my family. There are only five other guys besides my dad and my uncles I trust to protect you to my standard.”
I gaze at him for a long time, and I’m sure he’s wondering what’s going through my head. The longer I stare at him saying nothing, the more anxious I sense he becomes. I’m quiet for so long Finn catches up with us.
“Good morning, Jocelyn.”
“Morning, Finn.”
I hope they can tell from my tone I’m not pissed. Just surprised. I don’t love this, but I don’t want either of them to think I don’t agree with it.
“Cormac, will I have a guard everywhere I go until?—”
I don’t finish that sentence, and I know he’s speculating what I was about to say. From his expression now, I know he assumes I mean until we break up. I have no intention of ending this with him. If I weren’t in this for the long haul, I never would’ve gone anywhere near him. I certainly wouldn’t have accepted a nickname so easily so soon, but I doubt he’s ready to hear that from me, so I’ll keep that thought to myself for now.
“How far do you want to run today, Joey?”
“Not too long. Can we do three miles? Would that be good? I know that’s probably shorter than you’re used to.”
“No, that’s perfect. Neither Finn nor I love running as much as some of the other guys, so that’s usually how far we go.”
I think my expression must say I don’t quite believe him. I don’t think he’s lying, but neither is he a hundred percent. I bet plenty of days three miles is all any of them have time for, but my guess is most of them put in a good six to ten. I assume some of it is slow and steady, and some is wind sprints. I hate thinking it, but they don’t know when they might have to get away from someone. They wouldn’t know ahead of time how far they’d need to run to do that.
We set off again at an even pace. It’s not quite a challenge for me, but it’s certainly faster than I normally would do. Neither Finn nor Cormac look uncomfortable, either. The thought that I could run from Finn flashes in my mind, but I don’t want to run from Cormac.
We do a long loop around Cormac’s neighborhood, since we agree we don’t love out-and-back runs. One, because it’s boring, but two, it reminds us of just how much farther we have to go before we get to the end. A few days ago, I shared I would rather swim, but I don’t have access to a pool. Turns out I do now because he has one, and he’ll turn the heater on for me.
He added it when he bought the place, so he could swim laps in summer when it feels too hot to run, and he doesn’t want to go to a gym to run on the treadmill. He told me all the men in his family are strong swimmers. My guess is it’s for the same reason they’re endurance runners. They never know when they might find themselves in a situation where running isn’t an option, but they still need to get away. Those are things I pray I never learn are true. I only want to hear he enjoys swimming; not that it’s a necessity. However, I suspect there’ve been a few occasions where it came in handy.
We’re almost back to his place. We only have two blocks left to go. We’re just stepping off the curb when a car comes careening around the corner with no turn signal, no warning. We have the right of way, not just because we’re pedestrians, but because the car has a red light, and we have the walk sign. Cormac barely pushes, and Finn barely pulls me out of the way. I’d stepped just ahead of Cormac, coming off the curb.
Cormac moves like he’s ready to pull his gun when I sense he recognizes the driver.
Fucking hell.
I’m sure I was the target—not Finn or Cormac—because there’s no way that woman would ever be foolish enough to target a member of one of the leading families in such a public place. I’m not only a target, but someone’s following me if the woman knew how to find me. There’s no denying that after the two men following me yesterday.
Cormac pulls me against his chest, and I feel his heart pounding. I don’t think it’s from having just been running. I can tell he’s looking over my head at Finn because his cousin’s eyebrows furrow before they rise almost to his hairline. He must have just realized who that driver was. I know Cormac thinks I can’t feel him shake his head because it’s subtle. Does he not want Finn to say anything or do anything right now? Does he want to make sure Finn doesn’t say something to scare all the living shit out of me?
I keep my embrace tight. I’m not ready to let go. But I have to tap him on the back. He eases his hold. I don’t let go, but I draw a deep breath. He was virtually suffocating me. I try not to let my mind run away from me with all the possibilities of how that woman could’ve hurt me, and what she’ll do next because I guarantee she won’t stop. Not if Cormac and Finn recognized her. It wasn’t Deirdre, so it wasn’t some crazy ex. At least, I don’t think so.
A mercenary?
That’s my guess because this might’ve been intimidation, but next time could be far worse. From how Cormac’s heart rate slows, I know he doesn’t want me to sense how upset this makes him.
“Are you all right, cailín ?”
He must shoot Finn another look. Finn rolls his eyes but nods his head. This time, it must’ve been a warning glare.
“I’m all right, Cormac. Shaken, but not hurt. You guys protected me in time.”
When I tilt my head and finally look him in the eye, he knows I understand that wasn’t an accident. All I do is nod my head. Something flashes in Cormac’s eyes, and I think he feels even worse because I’m already resigned to being in danger this soon. I’d hoped we could’ve gone a little longer before anyone posed any serious risks, but clearly that’s not the case.
“Martha, what do you mean I’m being written up? For what?”
“Your behavior yesterday.”
“My behavior? What did I allegedly do?”
“You deny using profanity in front of the children?”
“Of course, I do. Which kids, and what did I allegedly say?”
“You don’t need to keep stressing allegedly.”
“Apparently, I do because I did nothing wrong. I’ve never even said damn in front of a kid.”
“That’s not what was conveyed to me. Past incidents were shared but not previously reported.”
“Past incidents?”
This is some motherfucking bullshit.
“Yes. It’s come to light that you have a habit of swearing in front of kids.”
“Since when? Martha, I’ve worked for you since I came to America. You were my supervisor while I did my clinical hours during grad school. How can you believe this is congruent with what you know about me?”
“It isn’t. That’s why it’s such a shock and disappointment.”
“Who’s accusing me?”
“I can’t disclose that.”
“Don’t I have a right to face my accuser under American law?”
“This isn’t a court case.”
Yet. I’ll go after whoever this is for libel if they wrote this accusation down and defamation if they only said it. This could ruin me.
“Can I read the accusations in full?”
“No. That’s confidential.”
Convenient .
I extend my arm to take the papers my supervisor holds. I want to see what the reprimand says. She hesitates before giving them to me. Did she think I would sign them blind?
I skim the allegations before reading the document more closely. This is some motherfucking bullshit. It claims during a home visit yesterday, I became frustrated by uncooperative parents and lost my temper. It states I not only argued with the parents but swore at them in front of their children. I can’t believe this family would report me for something I didn’t do. It’s out of character for them. I reread a paragraph and realize it wasn’t the parents. Someone supposedly overheard me. I can’t believe this.
I know this is a ridiculous claim because the neighbor to the right of this family’s apartment wasn’t there. They’re traveling out of town right now, and the household to the left only speaks Spanish; whereas, the family I was with only speaks English. There was nobody close enough to hear me to report me.
“This is entirely made-up, Martha. Whoever is doing this is doing it on purpose to ruin my reputation. Do you know who it was? Is it somebody you’re familiar with? Are they a reliable source?”
I feel my temper on the verge of exploding. After what happened a few days ago in the subway and on the street, then on my run with Cormac and Finn, I’ve been hyper vigilant about anybody who might be out to harm me. This feels as premeditated as almost being hit by a car. I wonder who this could be and what the purpose is.
Is this something connected to Cormac? Could this be Pablo finally getting his retribution? That doesn’t sit well with me because the more I finally think about the situation with Pablo, the less I think he could possibly care about me and what happened all those years ago. Anything he says about me now is a way to antagonize Cormac, so I pretty much rule him out. Not entirely. But most of the way. That leaves me wondering if this has to do with my family.
I hoped I wouldn’t have to admit any connections to them yet, but it’s becoming unavoidable. I’m certain Santiago will have plenty to say when I see him this evening. He’s been nagging me to come over, and I’ve been putting it off for days. I suspect he knows about Cormac, and if he knows, then so do other members of our family.
“Martha, do you have any other witnesses to substantiate this? Have you reached out to the family? Do they corroborate this story?”
She hesitates before responding. “They’re too scared to admit what they heard.”
“Scared? What on earth could they be scared about with me? I’ve known them for years, and there’s never been an inkling of trouble between them and me.”
“Yes, well, you stayed out of the Cartel’s crosshairs until now, but your boyfriend certainly is causing a stir. The person who reported this mentioned they heard you on the phone arguing with your boyfriend before you went inside, that you were already short-tempered.
“What? This is going from the ridiculous to the insane. Martha, my boyfriend and I didn’t speak yesterday while I was outside my client’s home. And even if we had, we’ve never had an argument, so there was nothing to report. This is entirely fabricated. Someone is trying to cause problems for me.”
“And who or why could that be?”
“If you know who my boyfriend is, perhaps you can imagine why someone would wish to cause problems for either him or me.”
“Then that’s its own problem. Jocelyn, if your relationship is going to affect your work, then I can’t send you out in good faith to these neighborhoods.”
“Are you serious right now, Martha, or is this your own way of handling your concerns or prejudices against who I’m dating?”
“I’d be careful with those accusations, Jocelyn.”
“Shouldn’t I say that to you? This isn’t something that’ll just go away if you’re putting it in my personnel file. You need to prove this isn’t a false accusation before you put in a formal reprimand. If it’s just one person, and even the alleged victims don’t corroborate this person’s story, then it’s their word against mine. What makes their word more valuable when you’ve known me for years? I’ve received commendations for my work. Never once has anybody claimed otherwise.”
“You weren’t dating a mobster before this.”
“That’s what it’s really about. It’s about who I’m dating.”
That makes me think it’s somebody connected to the Cartel who wants to punish my boyfriend through me or wants to punish me for dating somebody who’s not Latino, somebody who’s a rival.
“That’s not my issue to determine.”
“Martha, that’s ridiculous. Of course it is. If somebody’s filing a false claim against me, then you have a responsibility to find out why that’s happening.”
“I’d be careful, Jocelyn, about telling me what I do and don’t have to do. You’re skating on thin ice. If you argue any further, I’ll write you up for insubordination.”
I cannot believe she’s doing this. Yeah, she’s my boss, and I don’t consider her a friend, but I thought we had mutual professional respect, and we were friendly.
“I don’t have to sign my agreement to that reprimand. I’m going to exert that right, and I will not sign that as an admission of fault.”
“But you must sign it as proof of receipt.”
“I read the entire document, Martha. I can see the way this one’s written means signing is an admission of fault. It’s not a recognition of receipt. I won’t sign it. If I’m forced to, I will file a complaint for coercion and a hostile work environment.”
Two can play this game, and I won’t allow Martha to back me into a corner since my annual review is coming up in a month. I refuse to have this as a fresh strike against me. This is so utterly unreal to me. I can’t believe this is happening.
My gut keeps screaming to get out of this conversation and call Cormac. Not necessarily because I believe he can fix this or that I even expect him to fix this. We’ve built a tremendous trust through our physical relationship, and he’s who I want to go to when I’m in doubt or something goes wrong. Not as my Dom, but as my boyfriend.
Perhaps tonight things will play out with him as my Dom taking control of this in the privacy of what I’m now considering our home because that’s what he keeps calling it. I moved in with him after the near miss with the car. He didn’t have to insist that hard to convince me because that scared me shitless, and this is doing the same. Tonight, my Dom might console me, but for right now, I want my boyfriend who I trust above anyone else. I don’t know what to make of all of this, but I certainly don’t like it.
I hand the report back to Martha, who glowers at me. I won’t be cowed. Unless she grabs my hand, shoves a pen in it, and forces it to the paper, I won’t sign. In fact, she can shove this and the pen she’s holding up her ass.
“I need to be at the middle school in twenty minutes. I have to go.”
“I sent Amelia instead. I said you weren’t available today.”
“You replaced me?”
“While this pending investigation is underway?—”
“Pending investigation? You believe I may not have done this. You’re going to look into it?”
“I’m going to investigate why you’re lying.”
I grit my teeth to keep my mouth from hanging open like I’m catching flies.
“I’m taking a sick day.”
“No.”
“I have the days on the books, and you can’t prove I’m not sick.”
I’m ready to puke on her shoes. I’m growing more upset by the moment, and I’m fighting not to show it. It’s taking all the lessons my parents drilled into me to keep from showing my emotions.
I turn around, leaving Martha staring at me, and I don’t care. I gather my bag and head to the door.
“If you walk out, I’ll write you up for insubordination and dereliction.”
“I’ll get a doctor’s note.”
Maybe Meredith would go along with that. I don’t stop walking toward the door as I speak. The elevator can’t get here fast enough. I practically run across the parking lot until Dillan steps in front of me.
“What happened?”
It’s not friendly concern. It’s a demand.
“I need to speak to Cormac. If I call, is he available?”
“I believe so. What happened?”
“I’m safe, Dillan. I’d rather speak to Cormac first.”
Dillan stares for a moment, then nods.
“I want to call him from my car. This is private.”
Dillan’s gaze jumps to my office building, and his eyes narrow as he stares at it before returning his attention to me.
“Did someone threaten you?”
“I’m safe. I won’t discuss this until I speak to Cormac.”
I’m testy, and I don’t want to snap at Cormac’s cousin, especially since he’s the boss. It’s not like I fear Dillan because of his position, but my upbringing insists I show deference to him.
“All right.”
He walks me to my car and opens the door for me. I slide in, and he closes it. He stands by the front quarter panel and pulls out his phone. He puts it to his ear, but his lips never move. He’s pretending to be on a call in case someone sees him standing around.
I hit Cormac’s contact and wiggle my toes in my shoes as I wait for him to answer.
“Joey?”
I burst into tears.
“Joey!”
“Daddy.”
I feel like my throat’s closing as the lump rises. I inhale and swallow.
“Daddy, are you busy?”
“No. What happened? Finn, I’m on the phone. That’ll wait.”
Fuck. He isn’t alone.
“I didn’t know you were in a meeting. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“I know you didn’t, but you have five seconds to explain before I call Dillan and demand an answer.”
“He doesn’t know. I mean, he knows I’m safe, but I refused to tell him. I wanted to talk to you first.”
“Then you better explain, little one. My girlfriend calls me crying. You can guess how little patience I have to find out who upset my cailín .”
I pray Finn can’t hear him call me that again.
“I don’t know why I’m crying over this. I’m overreacting.”
“I’ll decide that.”
His tone is getting more brittle by the word, but as controlling as that is, it calms me. He’s going to take care of me. I knew that, and that’s why I called. But it’s like the weight of the world just lifted with those three words. He won’t let me feel guilty about my feelings.
“Martha wrote me up for allegedly arguing with a family and swearing in front of them. She said the person who reported me heard me arguing with you on the phone before I went into the apartment building. I refused to sign and asked who filed the report. It’s a lie.”
Tears still stream down my cheeks, but I’m not sobbing, and my throat is clear.
“Of course it’s a lie. You’d never behave that way. Do you know who filed the complaint?”
“No. Martha said it was someone who heard the conversation in the apartment. If I’d yelled, only the people on each side would’ve heard. One family is out of town, and the other doesn’t speak English. I’ve been in that home enough times to know sound doesn’t travel through the ceiling or the floor.”
“Can you think of anyone who might hold a grudge? Is there anyone who wishes to take your place? Someone who doesn’t like your assessments?”
“I can’t think of anyone who’d want to take my position as a social worker. Period. Especially not a social worker on Staten Island. But there are plenty of families who don’t like my assessments or recommendations. The list is longer than you are tall. Do you think it could be Pablo?”
I ask, hoping my earlier assumption is right.
“No. Even if he wanted to get to me, he wouldn’t go through you to do it. He knows how I’d react.”
“Then I don’t know who. Could it be the woman in the car? Or whoever she’s connected to?”
“I’ll have Sean investigate. He’ll discover who did this, and I’ll discuss it with you before I address it.”
“You’ll address it?”
Oh, fuck .
“If it’s someone from my world, then it will be me. That’s not negotiable. If it’s someone from your work, I’ll support what you decide to do. If it’s someone from the neighborhood, then I’ll intervene if I believe I need to. But I will not agree to anyone escalating this threat.”
I know he’s right that it’s a threat, but it makes it worse to hear it said aloud. I need to tell him what he doesn’t know, but I won’t until after I speak to my brother. If he’s involved, then I want this to remain private family business. I want to find Cormac, fall into his arms, and forget the rest of the world exists. But I can’t until I see Santiago.
“Do you want me to come and get you? Dillan or one of our men can drive your car home.”
“I need to see my brother today. I’m fine now. I’m not as upset as I was before talking to you. Thank you, Daddy.”
I don’t think Finn can hear us. I believe Cormac’s keeping our conversation private, but it would be embarrassing if Finn heard me call his cousin that. I know I’ve done it a few times during this call, but it keeps coming out. I don’t think I’m a child. I don’t feel younger than I am. But he’s comforted me, and I feel cared for like he’s promised. That’s why the name fits.
“Shane will meet you and Dillan at your brother’s place. Dillan’s got plans with his wife, so Shane will take over.”
“I feel guilty pulling Shane away from his wife. I’m certain he could—would—be doing something better.”
“Something else? Yes. Better? No.”
“Okay. I don’t agree, but thank you for making me feel better.”
“Always, little one.”
“Santi, enough already.”
I’m ready to leave, and I’ve been here five minutes. He’s infuriating.
“You’ve ignored my request that you come over for nearly two weeks.”
“Request? You commanded me, but I’m not one of your lackeys. I don’t have to obey.”
“You’re my sister. I shouldn’t have to do anything but let you know I’d like to see you.”
I stare at a guy who’s the spitting image of our dad. Except our dad has never been an arrogant ass to me.
“You’ve been avoiding me, and I know why.”
I refuse to respond. We’re back to where we started—for the third time. He thinks he can wear me down. How easily he forgets I’m the more stubborn of the two of us.
“How can you be fucking that?—”
“Finish that thought, Santi.”
I issue the dare even though I interrupted him. He recognizes my expression, and I can practically hear him gulp. It’s taking him even longer than usual to notice he’s pushing me too far. For someone as intelligent as him, he’s so fucking stupid. I’d throat punch him if I could.
“I don’t need to. You know what I’m thinking. You’re making a colossal fucking mistake. What the hell am I supposed to tell papí ?” Daddy.
That word has a different connotation from when I use it in English with Cormac.
“Nothing. If he has something to say, then he can call me.”
I definitely don’t think of papá and Cormac the same way. Santi and I have always called our father papí , but I think of him as papá .
“He’s too pissed. That’s why I’m talking to you.”
“You’re talking to me because you’re a chismoso. ”
“I’m not a gossip, Jo-Jo. I’m not spreading rumors.”
“If papí were as angry as you claim, he wouldn’t hesitate to call me. Hell, he’d fly me home or show up on my doorstep. You’re trying to make something out of nothing to be relevant.”
I fight the urge to cringe. That went way, way, way too far.
My brother steps closer. Not exactly in my face and not to intimidate me with his size. But he wants me to know I just pissed him off more than he’s pissed me off. It’s one of those thoughts I should have kept to myself.
“You know I’d be well within my rights to send you home.”
“You’d have to have one of your men bind and gag me to get me on that plane. How do you think that would go over? Santi, I had a shit day today. I don’t want to do this.”
“What did he do to you?”
“Made me feel better because of that shit day.”
“Gross.”
“Not like that. I haven’t seen him since this morning. Just shit at work.”
“Did someone hurt you?”
We might fight like two wet cats in a bag, but the moment there’s even a hint of a problem with someone outside the family, we’re both ready to go apeshit on whoever hurt the other.
“No. Just some issues to work out with my boss. It’s nothing I can’t handle, but it wasn’t a good day.”
When he engulfs me in a hug, I don’t hesitate to rest my head against him and wrap my arms around his waist. He’s still my big brother, and I know there’s nothing he wouldn’t do to protect me.
“Jo-Jo, I’m here for you. But I still don’t approve. You know papí will have something to say about this. Is he really worth the trouble this’ll cause?”
The trouble it might already be causing.
“He really is, Santi.”
“You moved here to be safe from the cartels. Now, you’re putting yourself right in front of them and the other syndicates. That makes no sense. You don’t even like going out with me and my friends because of who might see us together.”
“I know. I get how hypocritical it makes me. But it’s still safer to be romantically involved with the mob’s head enforcer than it is to be a Mexican jefe’s daughter.”