Bellissimo Fortuna (Beautiful Fortune) (18 page)

Rob, the physical education teacher comes into the lounge as I’m throwing away the lunch I didn’t eat. He’s nice enough and has shown interest, but I’m not there yet. I don’t know that I will be for a long time, if ever. “Hey Carrie,” that nickname grates on my nerves … too close to my real name.

“Caroline,” I remind him.

“I thought we were at least on terms of casual names. You don’t call me Robert.” He winks. Another thing that drives me nuts. That’s not fair, no man will ever measure up to Bronson, and it’s unfair to pick apart everything about Rob.

“I can if you’d like,” I try to smile, to show him I’m not really a bitch and only teasing, even though I’m not and, honestly, I am a bitch now.

“Do you have plans for the weekend?” I look at him, wondering if he just asked me that. “Let me rephrase that, I know you have things to do this weekend, just like every weekend when I ask that question . . . Do you think we could get together for dinner or something?”

“Let me see what I can work out, I’ll let you know tomorrow,” knowing I have no intention of following through with that. Tomorrow, I will just tell him the same thing I always do; it just won’t work.

Dragging my tired ass up the stairs, knowing I have about five more hours before my day ends; I drop my bag inside the door and catch sight of my father’s delivery. Sighing, I decide it will have to wait for a few hours. Going through my nightly routine, prepping for tomorrow, I finally get around to opening it. Score one for Frank Locati; he shoved the dagger in my heart deeper than he did a year ago. She’s beautiful . . . everything about her is opposite of me. Long blonde hair, tan skin, tall. He looks . . . happy. I stare into his gray eyes, wishing it were in person and not through a photo. His smile spreads across his face, his olive complexion sporting a beautiful tan, and if possible he looks more built. I’m sure he spent a lot of time at the gym when I left, working out his aggression and frustration. It certainly paid off. I should feel joy that he seems at peace, whole, and moving on; but I’m petty, and all I feel is remorse, pain, sadness, and utter hatred for the bitch holding his hand and smiling next to him. Picture after picture my loathing and longing increase until I can’t take it anymore.

The point Frank wanted to prove: He won. He won because he is still running drugs, rolling in the money because I helped him grow his empire by hurting this gorgeous man. While he lives the high life, I have nothing. Well, almost nothing . . .

Chapter 19

Last night was brutal. I was physically ill and felt as if my heart would be expelled with the vomiting I did. Pain inflicted on my soul took over my entire body. I fell asleep listening to ‘Girl Crush’ by Little Big Town, allowing myself one night of pity; soul-consuming, full-blown, cry fest. I even tortured myself by pulling out pictures of my happy times with Bronson, stupidly comparing his smile in those to the ones that were delivered yesterday. Did his eyes seem to dance with her like they did me? Was that the look of love he wore when looking at her? Then the pictures of Bianca, I sobbed more, begging and pleading with the silence to just feel her arms around me. Would she ever forgive me? Does she have another best friend? Is this girl filling my place in her life, too?

What did I expect? While what I did was one of the most unselfish things I could, I am drowning in hatred. I visually see my father bleeding and dying before my eyes, with me standing over him. I see the blood on my hands and know I would wear it proudly. I don’t like the person I’m becoming and wish it would all end. Even if he has moved on, happy with someone else, I just want to go home. Loving him from afar is enough for me, but being completely isolated is torture. I wracked my brain all night wondering if there was something I knew, something I had brushed off as unimportant, anything I could give to the authorities to take him down.

I called off of work today, not ready to face people. Searching the Internet for anything in my father’s name, I came up with nothing. Of course he isn’t that stupid. Then I remembered. A name. One nobody else would know. I immediately typed in the name into the county records and bingo. He would be keeping his known warehouses clean from Bronson but not this one. I clear all my search history, I’d have to wait until Monday and use the schools phone to deliver this to Dakota as I’m sure mine are wired or I’m always watched. I decide to get out today, spend the day in the sun at the park. Maybe if I surround myself with happiness some will seep in because I wasn’t just hurting myself. Allowing myself one more glance of Bronson, stupidly it’s the picture taken on the day he asked me to marry him, I pack up all the gear I’ll need for the day and head out.

Monday morning I place a call to Dakota. Thank God in a year he hasn’t changed his number.

“It’s me. Search the tax records for Christopher Howard.”

“What’s this?”

“That’s what my name would have been if I was a boy.” I hang up. Checkmate to me.

My father appears the next week at my door. He isn’t welcome inside and he knows it. I stand outside on the porch. “Callie, when are we going to come to a truce? Eventually you know I will get tired of waiting for what I want.”

“Never, Frank. What you’re after is off limits and always will be.” His sinister smile doesn’t scare me.

“Do you not need my money for support anymore?”

“I’ve got a job. I can make do.” I know there is no way I can survive on what I make. He knows it too, but he won’t cut me off. Not yet.

“Stubborn girl.” His phone cuts him off before he can say more. His eyes bore into mine as he listens to the conversation on the other end. Without a word he walks off my porch, but before leaving his gaze meets mine again. I want to say I see regret, failure, and maybe even remorse pass in them; but really all I see is fear. I smile as he climbs in the car and I hope it will be the last time I see him breathing again. He isn’t one that will go out quietly, so if my research manifested anything, he will die, because he is stupid and greedy.

Chapter 20

Six months passed from the day my dad left my porch until the phone call I had prayed for came. The DEA raided his warehouse the evening before, and Frank Locati died. The agent had assumed he was reaching for a gun, but instead he was reaching for a picture. How ironic, I knew what that picture was and the same way I used it against him, he was going to use it against the agent who killed him, Bronson Agosto.

A lot has changed in the months since I purged the past from my system. To say I’m nervous to go home is an understatement. Even when you have craved something like I have, you still question what you will be walking into. My mother, bless her heart, is tucked away in rehab and when she gets out I’ll be lucky if she doesn’t kill herself with drugs and booze. I would like to think it was my father who made her the way she is, but I’m her child, that should trump all.

I make the arrangements to go home. I have nothing here, the school won’t miss me, but I do let them know I won’t be back. In a mere fourteen hours I will be driving through the town of Indian Shores. It’s only been eighteen months, but for all that has transpired in that time it could be eighteen lifetimes.

I pick up my phone, and dial a number so familiar to me. It used to be my lifeline.

“Hello.”

“Binks.” Hearing her voice opens the floodgates.

“Callie,” she is struggling around her own tears.

“It’s me.”

“Oh my God.” I know. I don’t know what to say either.

“I’m coming home.”

“When?”

“I’ll be there within the next day.”

“Is it because of your dad? Are you safe?”

“I’ll tell you everything when I get there.”

“Okay—” she pauses.

“It’s okay. I know he moved on.”

“You’re wrong.”

“Well, I have someone I want you to meet.”

“Who?”

“Angelo. You will absolutely love him.” The silence seems to linger between us. “Binks?”

“Do you love him?” she asks.

“I do,” I tell her honestly.

“Shit,” I smile at her candidness. “I guess I’ll see you soon.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I don’t want your apologies. I just want my sister back.”

“Hopefully you will get her. I’m not the same person.”

“Yes you are. You’re my Callie.” If it could only be that simple. The past months were hell, and I barely survived. But I became a better person for Angelo. He deserved the best of me and I was all he had. When I couldn’t find a reason to smile, to keep going on, he gave me the motivation. I just hope he is received well back home. I know it won’t be easy to reestablish the family I lost when I made the choice to keep them safe, but I do hope it’s a battle I have a fighting chance to win.

Bronson

Chapter 21

“Get up, Bronson. Sober the fuck up and help me on this case.”

The light he has turned on is burning my eyes; they’re so dry, probably from the liquor dehydrating my body. “Fuck you, Dakota.”

“No, fuck Locati. You gonna let him win? Everything he took from you, including your girl, this is how you’re going to go down?” Ouch. Right for the jugular.

Sitting up I level him with a glare, warning him to back off. “He didn’t
take
my girl, she left. Whatever you’re trying to do, it won’t work. What’s the point . . . justice? What a fucking joke that is.”

“Really? You know that for a fact? What if there’s some chance bringing him down can bring her back?”

“I don’t give a fuck,” I lie, my heart rate accelerating just imagining her walking through the door. For the past three months, I’ve lost myself in a bottle. I didn’t have a particular poison, just whatever was in reach. I still did my job, just not as thoroughly. Everything had lost its luster since she ended us. Sure, for about three hours I wanted to end Frank Locati, then all my hopes and desires shriveled up and died. Along with my heart and balls. I actually offered to give up this quest I had to take him down if she would just stay with me. I was a card-carrying member of the pussy club. Fuck that. That isn’t who I am, was, or would ever be again. She wouldn’t reduce me to that. I was a shadow of the man she fell in love with.

“Tell that to someone who may believe you. Right now, I’m going to your office.” We had started keeping our files here, not trusting half the people in the agency. Locati had a reason for using Callie against me, and until I knew what it was nobody got close, except Dakota. But after twelve long weeks, I was beginning to wonder if it really was her decision to leave. She didn’t open up, didn’t come to me with what happened, so I have no idea what I’m up against. I pick up the first thing I can find and hurl it against the wall in a fit of rage. Every time I think of her, talk about her, I burn from the inside out. Anger, hurt, fear . . . they’re all a bitter bitch living inside my body, helping me limp through each day.

“FUCK!”

“You feel better? Tossing your shit? The shit you picked out together? You think if you break every damn picture, piece of furniture, memory in here, then you will rid yourself of her? You won’t. She’s inside you, she has been since day fucking one, and until you man up and get working on what really happened you’re going to stew in your own bullshit . . . and I’m tired of it.” He’s right. I have broken too many things, gone on like this long enough, and nothing is helping. Nothing is easing this burn.

I get up to head to the shower hoping to feel human when I reemerge, and that’s when I see what I threw. Our engagement photo, or the one we snapped after I groveled, and she forgave me, like always. Fitting, she ruined me, so I’ll ruin the memories of us. I don’t bother to pick up the mess, I don’t want to see her lying eyes and smile making a mockery of me. Not today, today is a new day. Today is the day I get back on course and finish what I started . . . what her dad set in motion so many years ago.

I find Dakota poring over the files and he doesn’t look surprised when I join him. Dick. He knew if he pushed the right buttons I’d get my ass in gear. Turnabout is fair play. “Have you seen Bianca lately?”

He cuts his eyes to mine and I see his nostrils flair. He chooses not to respond which makes me want to push more. “She’s supposed to come home next weekend. I think she’s bringing a new guy.” He slams the chair against the wall as he storms off. Good, I want him angry. I want someone who cares that much for my sister, but I also need them to get their heads out of their asses. “Take it from me, time isn’t promised. Cherish what you have!” I shout to his backside.

“Thanks, Aristotle. Just keep fucking looking at the files, I’m getting us some food.” He slams my front door and I chuckle. It feels good to be back to the land of the living.

I’m still searching document after document when he comes back with sandwiches and drinks. “Anything click?”

“No. The only facility with boat access is the dock; I know that place like the back of my hand. The drugs have to come that way because of who the supplier is. All of the searches have turned up empty. I know every hiding place, every inch of that place,” my mind begins to wander to all the times I was there with Callie, then they turn dark remembering her attack. It fuels my fire to bring Frank down but burns my heart that she somehow sided with him. I know it’s not as cut and dry as I make it. Bottom line is she didn’t trust me to protect her, she didn’t love me enough to let me see us through whatever he had planned.