Chapter Twenty-Two
Two/face??
The funeral was tough, but it was made tougher by the appearance of Harry and Luca. With my fist clenched tight around the beer bottle, I feel the tremble and muscle tension running up and down my arm. My deep hatred for Luca currently overshadows the bitter resentment I have towards Harry.
“The police won’t arrest Luca, will they?” Jimmy asks. Even though he’s asked a question, I know it’s more of a statement.
Taking a swig of beer, I slam the bottle down on the table, alerting the rest.
“Of course, they fucking won’t. Nothing sticks. He’s too fucking good.” I spit out.
I look across the table as Pamela sits nursing a double whiskey, her fingers running up and down the glass. Her eyes fixed on the amber liquid as it gently rolls in the glass. As soon as Luca’s name is mentioned, her body language shifts. She becomes rigid, and her eyes widen for a moment as she tries to control the deep resentment that’s bubbling under the surface.
Axe shoots me a pissed-off look. Even the fact I’ve given Luca the accolade of being ‘too good’ causes waves of tension at the table.
“He’s the reason we’re all here.” All eyes move to Pamela. Her statement rings true as the memories of how we all met washes over us. Along with the shame of how we initially all failed her.
“We’re here because we’ve seen too often how victims don’t get justice.” I speak through gritted teeth.
“For fuck sake, Two, we fucking know he killed Michael. What’s stopping us from just killing him?” Axe interjects.
“Oh…fucking do we Axe? And just like that, we’ll just kill one of the most well-known men in the city and expect no repercussions?”
“Since when did you become all high and fucking mighty, huh?” Axe snipes back.
“Since we lost the fucking person that keeps us all in check!”
A silence falls amongst the table, the other three shifting uncomfortably.
Leaning back into my seat, I loosen my suffocating tie as the pressure from the group becomes almost unbearable.
“We can’t wait for him to strike.” Jimmy speaks, his calm voice bringing some reasoning back to us.
“I know that, but unless he tells us why he killed Michael, we don’t know if it was something to do with us or Summer.”
“It’s Summer, it must be. It’s hardly a coincidence that Harry followed her to New York and decided to align himself with Luca.” Pamela speaks softly, gently shrugging. “We’ve seen the lengths people will go to, to keep those they control in check.”
“Was anything ever left to Michael’s ex-wife in his will?” I turn to Jimmy.
“No, as soon as they divorced, it was all left to Summer. There was no mention of the ex.”
“Could Harry have organised Michael’s death, to stop Summer from leaving?” Axe shrugs.
“If he did, it didn’t work. She left anyway?”
Sitting around the table, the four of us are falling further and further down a warped rabbit hole. Nothing makes sense, and in every scenario we come up with, we’re able to counteract with a different argument.
“What if it was Luca, but Harry had nothing to do with it?”
We all turn to Jimmy, the confusion plastered over our expressions.
I feel my brows pinch, and I look at Jimmy; he nervously chews on the corner of his lip. I can see the cogs turning in his mind, his eyes darting between us, and he tries to piece together this riddle. But after a moment, he just shrugs, letting out a heavy, frustrated sigh.
“Fuck sake, I have no idea. But there’s something off about Rachel and Eric turning up today. Harry, well, we knew he would show up to get under Summer’s skin.”
We all nod in agreement as the silence and emptiness take over again.
“Do you know where she is now?” Pamela asks, concerned, leaning closer to the table.
Pulling out my phone, I click on the app. My face softens for a moment, instantly spotting Summer laying on her couch. Seeing the flicker from the TV, she must be watching a crime documentary. She’s engrossed in the screen.
“Yeah, she’s at Michaels.” Clicking on the separate camera in the hallway, I quickly scan the image, but it’s all clear.
“You ever going to tell her the truth?” Pamela’s eyes narrow on mine, her question thickening the tension further.
“No, Summer will leave New York soon anyway.”
“Sure, about that? Seems like Bhodi Grey might have an issue with that. They looked cozy earlier.” She raises an accusing eyebrow, her tone dripping with sarcasm.
My eyes narrow on Pamela. Both Jimmy and Axe look away their hesitation on the subject obvious, but she doesn’t seem too bothered by bringing it up. Leaning forward, I place my palms firmly on the table, my eyes fixed on Pamela.
“That’s my business, not yours, so keep the fuck out.”
She scoffs, shaking her head, and rolls her eyes. Throwing her hands up in the air in an exasperated manner, I choose to leave. Rising from the table, I down the rest of my beer before leaving it on the table and heading out the door.
Slamming the door behind me, I make it a few feet outside before the door swings open and the sound of footsteps approaches, trying to catch up. I swing around when I feel a hand on my arm pulling me back.
Pamela”s eyes search mine. For a moment, they soften when she sees the conflict in mine. Taking a step back, she runs her fingertips across her lower lip.
“Look, you know how much I cared about Michael, and by default, I care about Summer, too. But you’re seriously messing with her head right now.”
“I’m…” Before I can interject, she raises her hand and cuts me off.
“You’re watching her when you’re not at the apartment. You let yourself in…the poor girl is probably terrified, but deep down, you know she cares for you. You stopped her from getting hurt and protected her, but you’ve told her she needs to leave, and she likely will.” She lets out a low breath, looking back at me. “But if I can see how you are around her, then so can everyone else.”
Rolling my bottom lip between my teeth, I allow Pamela’s words to soak in.
“Either you tell her everything, or you let her go and never contact her again. You’re being cruel, and it’s not fair on her.” Her eyes well with tears as she speaks, but her statement hits me harder than I thought it would.
The guilt and resentment I carry around towards myself seems to come barrelling over the hill and hits me hard. Unable to form words, I nod and continue towards my car. Pamela’s words play over and over in my head while my conscience begins to get the better of me.