Power Play (21 page)

Can you meet me at 16301 Iroquois at noon? Please.

Please please please.

Short and simple. The text I sent Landon this morning said what I needed to say, without going into detail. He hadn't answered any of my calls, hadn't responded to voicemails or texts in the last two weeks. Sending him a time and place seemed a little risky, but maybe he'd show up. If I could get him to meet me in person, I could explain everything. Asking couldn't hurt.

But him standing me up sure would.

I pulled four S-shaped hooks out of my back pocket and began fastening the new sign to the chain-link fence in front of the garden. My fingers quivered as the minutes ticked closer to noon.

After I'd finished hanging the first sign I opened the gate and walked through the garden, all the way to the back where I hung a replica of the sign, facing Burns Street. No matter if someone was walking at the front or back side of the garden, they would still understand the intention.

The picnic blanket I always kept in my car lay in a clump on the grass. I picked it up and flapped it a few times, releasing the folds and crinkles from it being tucked away in my trunk. Then I draped it over the sign to block the words until Landon arrived.

If Landon arrived.

When I looked at my watch, the hands read quarter past twelve. Exactly one minute since the last time I'd checked. I couldn't blame Landon for not showing. I probably wouldn't come back to the spot where someone had accused me of stealing. Maybe he thought I was setting him up. Po-po waiting on the next block.

When Landon finally pulled up, I was walking heel to toe along the curb, balancing with my arms extended as I did when I was a little girl. Trying to keep my balance even though there was no high-stakes reason to do so. Only this time there was. I felt like if I fell off, it would be the end of everything I'd gained with Landon.

“Sorry I'm late. I couldn't find the address,” he said, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

“No worries.” I believed him. If you input “16301 Iroquois” into a navigation system, it doesn't even register. It's been a plot of land since the fire.

“Nice of you to bring me back to the scene of my crime.” The low voice I loved acted like shock paddles, causing a rush of blood to my heart.

“The scene of
my
crime,” I corrected, and jumped off the curb onto the patch of sparse brown grass that separated the sidewalk from the street. “I'm sorry I overreacted. I'm sorry I freaked out. I should have let you explain.”

When I'd envisioned in my head how this moment would go, I'd squared my shoulders and looked straight into Landon's eyes. I'd summoned every ounce of whatever charm he'd thought I'd had to lure him in originally.

I was bold. I was strong.

In my head.

But standing in front of him, faced with real confrontation, reminded me of who I really was, and the strengths I didn't possess. I couldn't look at him at all, let alone into his eyes. So I apologized to the hot pink laces weaved through my black running shoes.

“I know you think I'm a horrible person because I was upset that you were giving kids food. But I'm not, I swear. I—”

“Look at me, Gabriella.”

My head shot up immediately, responding to his command because I had missed him so much. I missed his smile and his eyes that anchored me. I missed the strength his presence brought out in me. And how his presence helped my newfound fearlessness transcend my timidity.

Landon took a step toward me and reached out to touch my face. “I'm not angry with you. I don't think you're a horrible person. I could never think that.”

“But I, geez, Landon. I freaked out. I freaked out because you gave hungry kids food.” I paused and shook my head, because that wasn't the truth. “No. I freaked out because I was an idiot. Trying to be a hero and not thinking of anyone else.”

“No, you didn't. You freaked out because you'd reached your capacity for stress. I'm not blind, Gaby. I knew how much stress you'd been under. Shot down by your father, trying to work with a frustrating brother, and you saw me giving food away from a garden you started from ashes—literal ashes—to help rebuild your family's life.”

I tried to lower my head, but Landon reached for my chin and cupped it firmly. Then he tilted my face to his.

“I knew those boys had been stealing food from this garden. I didn't know it was your garden, but I knew they were stealing from someone's garden. And it wasn't right to make you feel bad about it. You are an amazing person, Gabriella. And no matter how angry I was when you didn't listen to my explanation, you didn't deserve another punch in the gut. Especially from me.”

“I think I'm the one who delivered the blow.” I dropped my gaze to the cracked sidewalk.

Landon let go of my chin. “In a way, yes, but I acted like an idiot. I let you walk away. I didn't fight.”

“There wasn't much to fight for.” I looked at him. “A crazy girl who got mad because you gave food to hungry kids. You were right. And I want to remedy the situation.”

“ ‘Remedy the situation'? Are we all business right now?” he asked.

“What else should we be?”

“Do you really need to ask me that?”

“Yes,” I nodded. “Because I don't know which way is up right now. You threw me for a loop, Landon. You changed my life. You changed who I am and how I portray myself to the world.”

“I could say the same thing about you, Gaby.”

“Bullshit.”

Landon placed his hands on my shoulders. “Why do you think you don't have an effect on people, Gabriella? How can you not see that you
are
the good in the world? Do you think I've been angry because you called me out for taking food from your garden? I'm not. You were right.

“I've been giving you time to cool down. To make sure you really want to be with someone like me. I treated you like your family has your whole life, going behind your back and making decisions for you without your permission. I placed those ads and set up that signing without asking you. I kept with the misogynist male you've been trying to break free of all your life.”

“It worked. It all worked. We've never been so busy. Consistently.”

“That's not the point,” he argued.

“I don't care about the point.” I reached up and took his hands from my shoulders, holding them firmly and bringing them in front of us. “You were right. You did act a little like every other man in my life, but you did it because you had faith in me. In my ideas. Not because you were trying to keep me in my place. You knew I was too weak to place those ads without my father's consent. And you knew we needed that advertisement just as much as I knew it. Maybe I have to stop with the victim mentality and start being part of the solutions.”

“You are the solution. Your ideas are the injection of enthusiasm that your family's stores need. I'm sorry I got so pissed off at your comment about not having to work for anything. Because I've worked my ass off, Gaby.”

“I know you have.” I brought his hands to my lips and kissed them. “I shouldn't have said that. It was anger in the moment talking.”

“But again, you were right.”

I shook my head, but Landon continued.

“You were right. Compared to my little brothers, I've been handed everything. The best training. The best coaches. Parents who supported me and paid for me every step of the way. And there I was sniveling over two little boys who were born with nothing. Parents who chose drugs instead of them. People who used them for welfare money and discarded them when even that wasn't enough.” Landon closed his eyes and shook his head.

“But I shouldn't have used your feelings against you. It wasn't my place to judge.”

“I'm glad I told you. And I'm glad you used it against me. I didn't realize how selfish it was until you called me out.”

“I think it's human nature to rationalize things in our heads to get inner justification for feelings and decisions. We all do it,” I admitted, letting go of his hands.

And I'm one of the worst.
The proof was in the garden behind me.

“I've seen such a huge change in you, Gaby. From the quiet girl who threw stuffed tigers at me to get my attention to the girl who stood up to me and kicked me to the curb.”

“I'm pretty sure
you
kicked
me
to the curb, but whatever.” I smiled and shrugged my shoulders in dismissal.

“No. I got pissed off and stormed away like a little boy. You put me in my place.”

“Thank you for placing the ads. And setting up the signing. It kept the store running. I know it did. Papa would never admit it, but we were going down fast.”

“All your ideas. I just ran with it,” Landon said.

“Why did you use the pictures of Luke? I thought the plan was to use you in the ads. Hometown boy? Local hero? Longtime shopper?”

“Because none of this is about me.” He put his hands on my arms, just below my shoulders. “This is about the next generation of your family's business. Your business.”

“But it could have been your first endorsement contract.”

“Yeah, then all the guys would razz me about sleeping with my boss,” Landon teased. He lowered his face and pressed his lips on mine. “I love bringing color to your cheeks. So easily embarrassed.”

“Don't make me bust out a German polka on you.” I didn't even care about the flush in my cheeks. I was just happy he was back by my side to put it there.

“It wasn't a polka!” Landon said in faux exasperation.

I wrapped my arms around him and squeezed him, unable to find a better way to express the pure joy filling my heart. “I don't even know how to thank you. Hugging is all I have.”

“Can't. Breathe. Gaby.” He coughed out each word until I released my grip. Then he dropped his head. “And I happen to know hugging is not your best move. You can thank me with your closeted vixen ways later.”

I ignored his comment. “Can I show you something?”

“Does it have to do with your closeted vixen ways?”

“No. Mind out of the gutter. We're still making up here.” I took a step back to make it clear we still had business to discuss.

“We could make up at my place.” Landon took a step closer to me and dipped his face into the curve where my neck meets my shoulders.

“Seriously? Can I have one more minute of apology time?”

“Yes.” Landon straightened.

“Like I said before, you were right. I had no reason to yell at you about feeding hungry children. Pride and disappointment in myself got in the way of seeing the bigger picture.”

“Gaby,” Landon began.

“Shhh.” I took his hand and led him the few steps to the sign I'd covered with a blanket. “You were right. You're a man, but you were right.” I winked. “So I did this.”

I yanked the cover off the sign and watched Landon's expression change from confused to delighted as he read it.

COMMUNITY GARDEN

IF YOU NEED IT. TAKE IT.

IF YOUR NEIGHBOR NEEDS IT, TELL THEM.

IF YOU HAVE THE MEANS, REPLANT.

TOGETHER WE CAN MAKE A DIFFERENCE

HELPING EACH OTHER

LOVE ALWAYS WINS

“This is amazing, Gaby.” Landon faced me. “You didn't have to do that.”

“I know I didn't. But it made sense. So much sense. Why would I harvest this garden and give it to the soup kitchen, which has its own farm, when I could share it with the people right here?” I pushed flyaway strands of hair away from my face. “This was my street. These were my neighbors. There's no doubt in my mind the families around here can benefit from this garden. And I know the ones that can help with it will. I can't believe I was so selfish before.”

“Giving your harvest to a soup kitchen is not selfish.” Landon grabbed my shoulders and shook them gently, trying to shake sense into me.

“I know. I just meant that there's more good to be done with the food right here. I don't need to bring it anywhere else.”

“It's absolutely awesome. The way your mind works is absolutely awesome. Do you ever think about yourself?” Landon asked.

“You know I do. That's how we got into this mess.”

“Let's stop right now. No more. You wanted to help your family in a bad situation. That's not being selfish.”

“I love you.” I closed the gap between us and buried my face in his chest.

“I have never been so lucky to be loved by someone.” Landon wrapped his arms around me and squeezed me into his warm, hard body. The meaty arms and muscular torso and masculine smell I missed so much in the last few weeks. “Can we make up for real now?”

“And by that you mean going to your place, right?”

Landon's lips spread revealing his perfect set of teeth, Cheshire cat–like.

“You're such a guy. A smart guy.” I backed out of his embrace and bent to retrieve my picnic blanket from the ground.

Landon smacked my rear end, which in my bent position, almost knocked me flat on my face.

“Geez, Landon!” I tucked the blanket under my arm as I stood, brushing the dirt and gravel off my hands.

He eyed the blanket as I shook it free of loose debris on the way to our cars. “You wanna spread that blanket in the garden and make up in there?”

“In front of the fairies?” I faked a gasp.

“Fairies?”

I dismissed his question with a wave of my hand. “A story for another time.”

“Business mogul. Book nerd. Closeted vixen. Fairy believer. You never stop surprising me, Gaby.”

“Do you know why I let Joey run this store?” Papa's question came out of nowhere. A random rain shower on a flawless sunny day.

“Long-standing Bertucci male-chauvinist tradition?” Right then I didn't have a reason to be sarcastic, except my personal fatigue from bottling my anger over the male hierarchy.

“What?” Papa's narrowed eyes and forehead wrinkles told me he was honestly surprised at my comment.

“Look, Papa, I know Bertucci Produce has always been run by men and it always will be.” A defeated sigh escaped as I finally gave voice to the truth I'd realized long ago. “And since Drew is into hockey, Joey's the one. The golden boy. The heir to the Bertucci legacy. I've known that since I was born.”

“Gabriella, come in here.” Papa waved me into the office.

Uh-oh. Closed-door meeting. Maybe I had the right idea to keep my mouth shut all these years.

I scanned the store to make sure it was safe to leave for a few minutes. Joey stood at the register, smiling and laughing with the customer he was checking out. Sammy was flipping through a T-shirt rack, helping another person find a certain size.

The store was fine. Better than fine. Joey's line was three customers deep. People wandered through the aisles, browsed through 8 x 10's of artwork, and scrutinized candleholders and other sculptures.

In the last eight months, the store had completely changed. Pride, the force that pushed my shoulders straight and held my head high, filled me. Undaunted, I entered the office and sat in a blue paisley chair across the desk from Papa.

A less-confident Gaby would've put her head down and fiddled with her hands in her lap, waiting for Papa to rail her. But I didn't. I liked to believe I was stronger and ready for whatever he had to throw at me. I kept my head high and looked my father straight in the eye. My feelings were out in the open. Time to own them rather than deny them.

“Gabriella,” Papa began. He reached over the desk, his hand extended toward mine.

Confused and frightened, I leaned forward and took his hand. Was he sick again? What was going on?

“When I retire, you will take over every single Bertucci entity I manage. You, Gaby. Not Joey. Not Drew. You.”

I pulled back in surprise, straightening against the back of my chair, but Papa held my hand and squeezed it.

“You've been by my side since you were four years old. You know every inch of the stores. You can probably run them better than I can. Definitely better than your Uncle Sal.” A smile spread across his face.

“What?” I asked, fearing the
but
that had to be coming soon. There had to be a
but,
right?

“I can't believe I've been so blind all these years, Gaby. I've taken you for granted and I apologize. I just assumed you knew.”

“How could I know, Papa? You shot me down when I had everything prepared to manage the store. And you let Joey run it. Joey! Running a store he'd never even set foot in, let alone know how to do anything.”

“Do you want to know why I let Joey run this store?”

“Yes.” My answer came loud and adamant, though he'd answer whether I wanted him to or not.

“Bertucci Produce—the shed, the two stores—that pays our bills. That keeps us afloat. Hell, it keeps our entire extended family afloat. This store is new. We're testing it out, trying to get your mother's artistic pipe dream off the ground.” He laughed. “I would never let your brother run one of the produce stores. We'd all be on the street before a week was done.”

This time I laughed. His scenario was an exaggeration, but it was funny. Actually, it was a slight exaggeration. Bertucci Produce was a whole different beast. Joey could've been a bagger, at most.

Papa continued, “I'd like Joey to get his life on track. I thought giving him a big responsibility here would get his mind in the right place. Think about the future and what he wants to do.” Papa released my hand and rubbed his face with both of his hands. Then he rested his elbows on the desk, clasped his fingers, and set his chin on them. “I don't know if I've accomplished anything but getting you extremely upset with me.”

“It's okay, Papa. I've been upset for a while. I'm just vocalizing it now.” I smiled.

He released his hands and pounded the desk. “I always thought your anger was normal teenage-girl angst. Glad to know it's because you think I'm a chauvinist pig. I can work with that.”

“Papa!” I grabbed his hand. “I wish you would have told me. We could've saved a lot of unnecessary teenage angst.”

“Honestly, Gaby, I didn't realize that I was being chauvinistic. Other than the Joey thing, what do I do that makes you think I'm president of the He-Man Women Haters club?”

Though I had no clue where he'd come up with that club name, I didn't hesitate to respond. “You never listen to my ideas. But if Sammy or Uncle Sal or some other
man
suggests it, then you listen. You do it all the time. I think you're only happy about the Pilots player signing we had because Landon set it up. A man had to be involved or it wouldn't have gone off as well as it did.”

“Gaby!” Papa said my name as if he were completely surprised. He released my hand again and leaned back in his chair. “Gabriella, I can't believe you think it's because you're a girl. Maybe it's because you've been feeding me fabulous, grandiose ideas since you were eight. Maybe it's because you're only nineteen years old and I haven't realized you are grown and ready to have more control.”

“Come on, Papa. It's a little bit because I'm a girl. I mean, you don't listen to Mom either.”

“I don't? Then why are we sitting in the office of a local artisans' store we financed with our own money to help your mother fulfill her dreams of selling her paintings?”

“Well, I just meant—” I began. But he was right. 313 was Mom's vision, her dream, her baby, though she didn't work here. She painted. And sketched. And sometimes sculpted.

“I didn't realize I came off as such a caveman, Gaby, especially to my one and only daughter. I trust you with decisions. I have since you were fourteen. You're smart and capable and you single-handedly created the plan to get customers into this store, no matter who ended up carrying out that plan.” Papa stood up and walked around the desk. He extended his arms. “Can you forgive me?”

A tear slipped down my cheek as I registered all the wonderful things Papa had just said. I jumped up and crushed him with a hug. “I love you, Papa.”

He wrapped his arms around me and squeezed. He didn't let up until I was the one pulling away.

“Can I ask you one more question?” he asked, still holding me.

“Sure.”

“Did you choose not to go to college because of what happened with the Mitchell boy?”

Oh no. I could handle dancing around the rape with Mom, but when Papa brought it up, I wanted to hide like a jack-in-the-box and break off the crank so no one could make me pop out.

“No. I just, I'm not good at school. You saw my report cards.” I tried to shrug out of Papa's arms, but he wouldn't let me go.

“You're an intelligent girl, Gabriella. Your report cards changed after the rape.”

And there
it
was. The word that must not be used.

Papa continued, “Are you scared to go to college because of what happened?”

“I don't know.”

Lie.

Truth: I did know. I never admitted it, even to myself. I'd refused to set foot on a college campus since the rape. Every time I visited Michelle at Loyola, I made up some lame excuse about wanting a hotel room close to Michigan Avenue shopping to avoid her dorm. Still hadn't figured out what I'd do when Drew graduated next year and I had to be at the ceremony. On that same campus. The place
it
happened.

“Landon brought it up, actually. I can't believe I never thought about it.” Papa shook his head. “I don't want to push anything at you, Gaby. But I don't want you to miss out on life because of fear. There are other options. Online classes. You can live at home.”

“I'll think about it, Papa.” I inspected a dog's hair on his sweater, which was still inches from my face since he wasn't letting go of me. “I suck at online classes. And I'm just not ready to think about that right now.”

“Okay.” Papa stroked my hair. “But when, or if, you are, please let me and Mom know. We can help, Gaby. We'll do whatever is best for you.”

“Speaking of Landon and his perceptive mind,” I began. Papa put it out there, so I would, too. “Did you and Mom start this store because you didn't want me to have to work with the Mitchells anymore?”

Papa's grip tightened around me. “He's a perceptive boy, isn't he?”

“Outsiders usually are.”

“To an extent, yes. You know we can't leave the family business. Not right now, at least. We thought if we could make this store profitable, we could give ourselves some distance from the produce side. We needed to find a place you could work without the fear of seeing that boy every day. And if this store is successful, maybe we can open other branches. In a mall, or I don't know.” Papa shook his head. “We'll see what the future holds. It kills me that we can't walk away from the Mitchells and their bullshit. It pisses me off that Nonno would rather keep his business ties strong than his family safe. As your father, I want to do everything I can to protect you. Even if it means giving my brother control of the produce business.”

My grip on Papa tightened as tears streamed down my cheeks. How many times had I cursed my father for going along with Nonno's business bullshit? How many times had I bitched and complained—including today—about his plan to bump me out of the picture just for being born a girl? Just knowing he was willing to give up the business for me proved what an amazing person he was.

“Should we talk about the great and powerful wizard, Landon Taylor, now?” Papa asked.

“Shhhh!” I glanced at the door to make sure it was still closed.

“You two have gotten quite close, Gabriella.”

“He's an amazing person. He's had a positive influence on me.”

“I see that.” Papa released me from his arms. “And I'm glad. I like him, Gaby. And he comes from a good family. But you might want to tread lightly. He's a hockey player. Hockey players travel. They get traded. They have a lot of fans.”

“I know.” I reached back and fluffed the hair off my neck, where Dad's massive arms had crushed it. “I'm not ready for forever yet. I'm too young. But I like who I am with him. And I'm willing to accept whatever life has in store for both of us. I'll be happy for him. Just like he's happy for me.”

“And you love him.”

“I do.” I dropped my eyes to the floor, convinced Papa would see memories of sexcapades with Landon in the blush of my cheeks.

“Your mother and I are here if you need us, Gaby. Love is beautiful. But it can be hard. And relationships take a lot of work.”

“Tell me about it. You had to open an art store to keep your woman happy.”

Humor seemed like the best way to deflect more love—or worse: sex—conversations that Papa may have been about to get into. I couldn't handle another birds-and-bees talk. The first one, with a condom and a flashlight, embarrassed me enough. And the lucky two-dollar bill and condom that Mom gave me before my date with Landon pushed me over the edge.

Papa opened the door to the office and we both stepped out into the store.

“Chill, she's right there.” Sammy pointed at me. I looked up to see that he'd been speaking to Landon.

When had he gotten here?

And why was he bouncing? Literally. Landon was on his tiptoes bouncing like he was waiting for someone to shoot the gun to start the marathon. He rushed toward me.

“I'm gonna play in the NHL, Gaby!” Before I had a chance to react, he swept me into his arms, lifted me off my feet, and spun me around.

“Amazing!” I wrapped my arms around his neck and hugged him. Then I raised my head and kissed his cheek. “I knew it would happen. The Aviators were just slow.”

Landon set me down but didn't let me go. His hands settled on my hips and he pressed his lips on mine. I kissed him back with increased passion, despite my father being inches away from us. Though, the fact that I could reach out and touch Papa while making out with my boyfriend was slightly unsettling.

“It's not the Aviators, Gaby. I got traded.”

“What?” I pulled back, but stayed close because I didn't want him to take his hands off me. I took my eyes off Landon for a split second as Papa inched by us and walked toward a customer. “Traded to where?”

In the grand scheme of things,
where
didn't matter. Landon would go to whatever team wanted him and would play him. His dream was finally coming true. All of his hard work had finally paid off.

“The Wings. And they aren't even sending me to Grand Rapids first. I'm gonna be playing in the NHL right here in Detroit.”

The extreme surprise—and joy—I felt multiplied with every head that swiveled toward us as Landon made his announcement. It wasn't like we were in private, after all.

A chorus of cheers erupted behind us, popping the imaginary Gaby and Landon bubble surrounding us. Perfect timing, as if the crowd realized that I wouldn't be able to form words or sounds or thoughts after Landon's announcement.

Everyone's happiness rallied around our local hero, who would be playing hockey in his hometown. Everyone was happy for the chance to follow his career and root for him, without wavering from our fierce home-team loyalty.

Happy he'd be fulfilling his dream right here, in the same city where I lived. The same city we were born and raised. The same city we were slowly trying to help put back together, one small step at a time, in our own way.