Chapter 23
Chapter Twenty-Three
Joey
That wasn’t exactly a disaster, but it didn’t go well. It’s not like I thought we’d all be sitting together, having café y pan dulce —coffee and sweet bread. Maybe if we were at my parents’ house, and my mom was there. Definitely not over the phone or even in NYC. I wouldn’t have invited my father, brother, and Cormac to my place. It’s—it was—a far too enclosed space for the three of them. It seems we won’t be having them over to Cormac’s house. I can’t imagine papá or Santi wanting to come here, either. I doubt Cormac’s parents want to play host to them. That’d be like hanging steaks on themselves and walking into a lion’s den.
If my head hadn’t started hurting at the beginning of the call, it certainly would be by now. I glance at the bottle on the bedside table and see it’s a powerful painkiller. Not quite narcotic, but pretty damn close. I reach for it and the glass of water. I’ve just swallowed when my phone rings again.
Work.
Fuck my life.
“Hello.”
“Jocelyn, you better have a good excuse for why you aren’t back here. You had two meetings this morning you missed without permission.”
“I had a gas leak at my apartment that started a fire. It nearly killed me. Can I have the afternoon off?”
Things have been practically hostile between Martha and me for the last few days. Sarcasm won’t win me any friends, but she’s been riding me like a fucking pony at a fair.
“Are you all right?” Some genuine concern.
“I have stitches in my leg and my head.”
“ Dios mio !” My God!
“I was too out of it to remember the meetings. Please pass along my apologies.”
“Jocelyn, I know you wouldn’t lie about something that serious, especially since you’ll need a doctor’s note to miss more work.”
Puta .
Bitch.
“But this claim of a fire makes no sense, since we had another complaint against you an hour ago.”
“Someone filed the complaint an hour ago, or my alleged misconduct was an hour ago?”
“Both.”
“I was unconscious an hour ago while a doctor sewed me up. Unless I was talking in my sleep, and somebody on Staten Island heard me all the way in Queens, that’s not possible.”
“Which hospital are you at?”
“They won’t release whether or not I’m a patient.”
Motherfucker. Guess she’s over her miniscule concern.
“You can tell me.”
“I’ll bring the doctor’s note.”
“Why’re you being awkward, Jocelyn?”
“Because something isn’t right. I’ve worked for you for years and had nothing but glowing reviews. Now someone’s lying about me. I don’t feel comfortable giving out anything personal right now.”
“You’ve been an excellent employee until the past month. Ever since you started dating a mobster. You of all people. I never thought you’d lower yourself to?—”
“Martha, I’d stop while you’re ahead. You’re one of the few people who knows about my family because of my background check. I wouldn’t speak ill of anyone in my life.”
No one’s going to whack her. No one’s even going to become a second shadow. But a healthy dose of fear will shut her up.
“I want you to be safe, but I need you to be less disruptive at work. I have to shift cases around, so people can cover for you.”
Keep your big girl panties on—if you were wearing them.
Don’t quit. Don’t quit. Don’t quit.
It’s thoroughly tempting, but that doesn’t resolve my problems. I won’t give in to Martha or whoever this is. They can suck it.
“Pass along my apologies to them, too. It’s Tuesday now. I should be back to work by Monday. That’s no longer than I’d be out for the flu.”
That’s assuming Cormac lets me go back. He won’t let me see how shaken he is unless he wants to. But I can tell. Hover will be an understatement. Until he resolves this, he’ll take away almost all my freedom to go anywhere. Frankly, I’m glad. The idea of going out and about, just like everything’s still normal, makes me want to heave. I don’t want to go anywhere without him. I’ll stay put if he can’t be with me. Taking command of this and asserting control is the only way Cormac can handle this unpredictability. I know it’s his worst nightmare. Me relinquishing control will make both of us feel better.
I feel like shit, so why wouldn’t I want to be taken care of? I wish he were back here, holding me again. If the pain meds are kicking in, I can’t tell. This conversation’s making me want to hurl—that was a strange phrase to learn when I came to America, but the word fits the feeling.
“I’m sorry you’re injured, but this disruptive behavior means I need to write you up again. I’ll investigate today’s accusation further, but just not showing up and causing other people to cover your work is unacceptable.”
“I’ve called out unexpectedly before when I’ve gotten sick. I did it three months ago when I got food poisoning from the menudo I ate only to be polite.”
I hate the soup. I don’t like hominy, and I can’t stand tripe. I only had some because I felt backed into a corner and didn’t want to offend the family. I barely choked it down, and I knew something was off. The tripe wasn’t prepared properly. My stomach hurts just thinking about it.
“You didn’t give me a hard time about that.”
“You threw up at your desk. I had to let you go home.”
Those gastro pyrotechnics were quite spectacular. I barely got to the trash can in time.
“If you persist with these unsubstantiated claims and reprimands, I’ll file a grievance with the Department of Social Services commissioner and HRA. I’m certain Human Resources will understand my concern about a hostile work environment.”
“Don’t threaten me, Jocelyn.”
“No threat. Just a promise.”
My phone beeps in my ear. I look at it and see it’s an incoming call from a number I don’t know. I don’t care. It’s the perfect excuse. It beeps again.
“Martha, do what you want. I have another call. Bye.”
I don’t wait for her to respond, instead hanging up and switching to the new call.
“Hello.”
“ Hola, se?orita Espinoza .”
“Who is this?”
I know that voice, but I’ll pretend I don’t. I won’t give Pablo Diaz the satisfaction of controlling the conversation from the start. We’ll speak English.
“ Es Pablo Díaz .”
At least, I will.
“What do you want, Mr. Diaz?”
“I heard what happened today.”
I remain silent. It was an observation, not a question. I have nothing I want to offer either, though I have plenty of questions. I won’t give that away.
“Are you all right?”
“Yes.”
“Are you with Cormac?”
“Why’d you call?”
“Avoiding the question doesn’t mean you didn’t answer. Since he hasn’t snatched the phone from you, he must not be in the same room.”
Astute.
“I called because you’ve done a lot of good for our neighborhoods. You can’t pick your family, and there’s no accounting for taste. But the people in our neighborhoods respect you and like you. I don’t want anything to happen to you because it would upset the children.”
Our neighborhoods.
We aren’t neighbors. He means the Colombian Cartel.
I pray Cormac didn’t leave without saying goodbye.
Me
Pablo’s on the phone with me. He called.
“Your concern is noted.”
“Ms. Espinoza, you avoid me like the plague. I don’t think it’s because my uncle knows your father breaks promises. Why do you hide from me? Do you assume the worst because of my uncle’s and your father’s strained relationship?”
Strained?
I catch myself before snorting. Enrique swore he’d kill my father if he laid eyes on him again. The last time they were together, Enrique beat my father so badly, he nearly killed him. In return, when my father got back to Mexico, he arranged a car accident that nearly killed Enrique’s other nephew, Alejandro. He also found two of Enrique’s labs in Colombia. Around the same time, there were mysterious fires at both.
“It has nothing to do with our relatives. At least, not my father or your uncle.”
There’s a prolonged pause before he responds. His tone could freeze ice.
“Juan. You mean when he had to intervene. Back then, you made an honest mistake because you were newly assigned to the neighborhood. You’re a first responder and did what you believed was your duty. What you believed was right. You didn’t know better.”
That last bit. That’s a lesson I learned young. The outside world believes syndicates are morally void. Within this world, morals are situational, but ethics are absolute. Someone’s idea of what’s right and wrong might change by circumstance, but the organizations’ ethics are unwavering. The codes of conduct don’t differ that much across the organizations. The one thing that’s never contestable is you don’t call the police, and you never help the government.
Given that, I think it’s pretty understandable why I avoided Pablo like herpes—you’re far more likely to catch that these days than the plague.
Since he’s figured it out, I see no reason to respond. Even if I wanted to, I don’t get the chance because Cormac bursts into the room. He practically rips the phone from my hand.
“What the—” He glances down at me. “—feck do you want with my woman, caremonda ?” Slang for cara de monda— face of a penis.
I stifle my laugh. That’s definitely more Colombian than Mexican. They swear a lot more, and the curses they have a definitely more—colorful. It might equate to dickhead, but Cormac means nothing that benign.
He doesn’t put it on speaker, but the volume’s loud enough for me to hear most of what Pablo says.
“I was checking on your girlfriend.”
“Why?”
“People in the neighborhood will worry.”
“How thoughtful. What do you want?”
“I told you to speak to Niko. Did you?”
“Yeah.”
“And?”
“He told me to talk to Gabriele.”
“Did you?”
“Nothing good ever comes from you being a nosy little fecker. Eres peor que una abuela chismosa. ” You’re worse than a gossipy old grandma.
“It’s not gossip when it’s true. The families will want to know Ms. Bracero is all right.”
He’s not using my father’s last name anymore. Traditional Spanish last names place the mother’s maiden name at the end. Espinoza Bracero. He used Espinoza earlier to make a point. One he won’t antagonize Cormac with.
“Thank you for your concern. Goodb?—”
“Cor, don’t be a douche. Put her on the phone. I have one last thing to say, and I promise it won’t insult her.”
I nod, but Cormac looks like he’s about to sit down for a root canal. He hits the speaker button.
“I’m here, Mr. Diaz.”
“You’ve feared I would retaliate for your mistake years ago. It cost us some money, but no damage was done. I regret you feared I’d come after you for it. My uncle can’t stand your father, and I detest your—boyfriend. But I didn’t exaggerate about the good you’ve done in our neighborhoods. I already heard what happened today. If you’re ever threatened, and you can’t get to the O’Rourkes, you come to me or my family.”
“Why should I believe you? You implied to Cormac I was fucking your cousin. You used me.”
“I did. But I’ve also had a security detail on you for years. You go nowhere in any Latino neighborhood in New York without someone making sure you’re safe. I don’t think you realize how much the families value you. My uncle would have a mutiny if anything happened to you.”
Can he whack my boss?
I shouldn’t think shit like that, but I’m pissed at Martha. Extremely pissed.
“Thank you.” I suppose I can be gracious.
“ De nada, se?orita. ” You’re welcome, miss.
I watch Cormac while all three of us remain silent. What else is there to say?
“Cor, take me off speaker. There’s more to discuss.”
I nod. Not that it matters.
“What do you want?”
Cormac walks away from the bed, so I can’t hear. I only get his side of the conversation.
“Why would he do that?...He’ll never pay that…They’re out of their fecking minds…If you’re lying…No…I’m telling you right now, if you’re lying, even se?ora Margherita won’t recognize you.”
That’s Pablo’s mother. She’s a kind woman you’d never imagine is married to a senior Cartel member who pops in and out of Colombian prisons like people pop in and out of a bodega. He’s more than his older brother’s messenger. He’s the fucking Colombian Holy Spirit. See him, and you know your soul’s leaving your body.
“Fine…Maybe I’ll let you know…Feck off. Bye.”
I forced myself up to sit while I spoke to Pablo. I rest back against the pillows now. Cormac perches on the edge of the bed.
“What did he say before I came in here?”
“Not much. Just that I was wrong to fear him. He understood what happened, and he didn’t blame me for it. He said the families in their neighborhoods appreciate me, so he never wanted revenge.”
Cormac’s expression relaxes, and I breathe a little easier. His hand wraps around mine, covering it entirely.
“He’s right that the families value you. You can see it when they talk to you and about you. It makes no sense that Martha’s giving you a hard time.”
“I thought the Cartel might be leaning on her, but now I don’t know.”
“I wondered the same. I have some more calls to make, but they can wait.”
“I thought you needed to go.”
“We’re staying here until later tonight. Once we know more about both explosions…”
He doesn’t need to finish the sentence. Either he can’t tell me what they’ll do, or I won’t want the details to avoid nightmares.
“I told Martha it was a gas leak that sparked it.”
“Did she believe you?”
“Maybe. I doubt it. She’s going to write me up for not going back to work this morning, despite me telling her I was injured. She claims I’m causing problems because she has to reassign my cases.”
“For one day? Even the rest of the week wouldn’t be that bad. Couldn’t you reschedule things or ask someone to cover for you rather than have them reassigned?”
“One would think. I don’t know why she’s being like this unless someone’s forcing her hand. But her voice sounds like she sincerely means it all. I warned her if she persisted in writing me up for unsubstantiated claims and blatant lies—apparently, someone filed another conduct complaint for me today, but it was while I was unconscious—then I’ll go to the DSS commissioner and the HRA. Cormac, she knows who my family is from my background check. She can’t know the extent, but she knows they’re cartel. She knows you’re mob. She claims my connection to you is the reason for these problems.”
“They could be.”
“Maybe. I suspect it’s more personal than that. Something changed within her when you and I got together. It’s like she’s the one punishing me for being with you. I think she’s the one making shit up.”
“I suspected that, and I asked Sean to look into it. So far, nothing is turning up from anyone besides her. The IP address for the first claim doesn’t match your office, her house, or her phone. But that doesn’t mean it isn’t her. She could have a VPN.”
“She does. It makes it cheaper for her to speak to her family in Mexico and Guatemala.”
“I’ll have Sean check that out. Are you hungry or thirsty?”
I don’t expect the sudden shift, but we’ve discussed everything I can know. If there’s more, he’s decided it isn’t safe for me to know. I won’t press the issue because I don’t want to keep talking about it. The painkillers have only taken the edge off my headache.
“No. At least not for food or drinks.”
I waggle my eyebrows, then shoot him what I hope are bedroom eyes. Another term that made little sense when I first learned it. His hand wraps around my throat, this time squeezing enough to make me lift my head higher.
“You have a concussion, stitches in your head, and a sutured hole in your leg. I’m not fucking you, little girl, so stop tempting me.”
“I proved my mouth still works.” I open wide.
He squeezes as he pounces. His mouth commands mine, and I submit. My hands clasp around his neck as his kiss drugs me. We’re breathless when we pull away.
“Sean and Shane are paramedics. Do you really want Shane to guess why I drag him up here to see if you still have a concussion?”
My cheeks are roasting as I shake my head.
“Then be a good girl and don’t tempt me.”
“Fine, Daddy.” I sound anything but agreeable.
He looks at his right palm before scratching it.
“My palm’s getting awfully itchy to land across your soft arse. Maybe I will get Shane up here after all.”