Say Ye (4 page)

The phone jangled. Lita started and peeled off her gloves. Jane’s voice cut Lorenzo’s hold on Lita. He picked up their coffee mugs while Jane droned that she’d be home by ten. The clock on the microwave shone nine-twenty. The answering machine beeped. Lita smoothed lotion on her hands. It layered her scent with the lingering soapy smell. Lorenzo plunged his hands into the water and finished washing the dishes. He dried his hands on a dish towel, still warm from Lita’s touch.

“Maybe it’s wrong of me to expect you to keep this from Lee,” Lita said.

He faced her. Her brow crinkled above frightened eyes. Words of comfort, even the truth of how much he’d already withheld from Lee, like having a man killed to protect her, lodged in his throat.

He shrugged. His father might be a heartless bastard, but Lorenzo agreed with him about some things. One, no need to disclose more than you have to. Two, don’t mess with underage girls and punish anyone who does. Three, pay your debts, and, four, don’t break your word. Though apparently this last hadn’t applied to marriage vows. Heat prickled through his limbs. He scooted his chair in and walked into the living room.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Lita’s footsteps swished behind his.

He was always okay. Nothing could get to him unless he let it. And he didn’t. Another lesson from his father: control. Others might not believe the Calabra men had any self-control, what with their profession and proclivities, but getting pleasure was not equal to a lack of control.

“I better go before Jane comes home,” he said. He faced the doorway. Lita stood blocking his exit.

A tiny smile curved Lita’s lips. She moved toward him, a gentle undertow creeping beneath him, pulling him into its shimmering, warm depths. He should escape while he could, but his feet rooted to the worn carpet. Pleasant heaviness settled in him and his breathing grew shallow. She gazed at him. He drowned in her, lost consciousness in the sparkling depths of her eyes. Sliding her arms around his waist and pressing herself close, she buried her cheek in his chest. He closed his eyes.

Once, he’d hoped to marry a sweet woman like Lita, have a family, own a business of his choosing. To make that happen now, he’d sell his soul. But he already had, so he had nothing to bargain with. Her softness threatened his safety. Forcing his body into rigidity, he clasped her arms and pushed her away. Her face flushed as she met his eyes. They must appear vacant to her--he’d glimpsed himself with his indifferent mask on enough times to know.

“I want to show you how grateful I am.” Her rosy blush coursed into her chest. He averted his eyes.

“No need,” he said. He slunk past her, staring at the front door. After grabbing his bag, he flung open the door. The sun cast brightness over the old buildings, the blues, greens, and purples sneering at him in their cheeriness.

“But I—”

“I’ll be parked across the street until I see Jane’s home. Stay safe.” He jogged downstairs. When he reached the safe distance of the sidewalk, he allowed himself a last glance at her.

“Thank you. Take care.” She leaned on the doorframe, her hands hugging her waist. The way she looked at him, so sweet and content, a weightlessness rushed through him. Not the thrilling or illicit rush he usually experienced, but something wholly different. He shook his head, knowing it didn’t matter. He knew what he had to do: protect Lita, even from himself.

3

Lorenzo wiped the steamy haze off the mirror in his bathroom. He didn’t look any different than usual. Combing his hair, he grimaced at his reflection. It would take more than a sleepless night worrying about Lita to affect his appearance. Years of projecting a certain image worked like the spell in
The Picture of Dorian Grey
. Lorenzo looked collected and attractive, concealing the ugly truth. He pulled on black boxer briefs and nearly tripped as he ran for the phone. He was expecting a call from Nico, his most trusted contact at DeGrazia Security, who he’d hired with another guy to trail Rich.

“Yeah,” he said into the handset. His voice sounded breathless.

“Catch you at a bad time?” Lee chuckled.

Lorenzo’s stomach gripped. Lita said Lee was in Tahoe with his girlfriend. Something must be wrong. Why hadn’t…

“Can’t talk, huh? No worries, I’ll--”

“I’m alone. What’s up?” Lorenzo pressed the phone to his ear.

Lee exhaled. “Meet me at the tennis court?”

“Sure. In twenty?”

Lee agreed and hung up. Lorenzo shrugged on a tee shirt and sweats, slipped on sneakers, grabbed his racquet and a canister of balls from the hall closet, and ran out his front door.

Jogging downstairs, he almost collided with Nick, who was on his way down from his second floor apartment to his restaurant on the first floor of the building.

“Meeting Lee?” Nick clapped him on the back. As usual, his landlord and friend was dressed in a grey suit, groomed to dapper perfection. Lorenzo nodded. “Bring him back here for brunch?”

“I’ll be here.” Lorenzo watched the older man trot downstairs. Nick had known Lorenzo’s mother even longer than his father had. What had possessed her to choose a man like Vincenzo Calabra over Nick D’Angelo was a mystery. Lorenzo had to make sure Lita didn’t make such a mistake.

He strode out into the chill, sunny morning. The sidewalks were already becoming crowded, as they usually were, especially in the summer, with the influx of more tourists. Once he passed into the residential blocks, lined with trees and parked cars, he found himself almost alone. Sprinting, he soon entered the tennis court, where he waited for a few minutes until Lee showed. No one would guess Lee and Lita were related. She resembled Lorenzo’s family more than she did her own. Lee’s only similarity to Lita was his brown hair, though his was light and curly, where Lita’s was dark and wavy. Lorenzo shook off his thoughts as they took their places on the court.

“I called Lita last night,” Lee said after lobbing a serve over the net. The ball bounced with their conversation.

“She okay?”

“No.”

Lorenzo swung wide and missed the ball. He retrieved it and whacked it back into play.

“I was in Tahoe with Amy, but came home after talking to Lita. Seems she broke up with her boyfriend and he’s not taking it well. Been calling her all day yesterday trying to get her to meet him. She didn’t tell me right off. Had to drag it out of her. She sure can pick ‘em.”

Lorenzo wiped his forehead with his arm. Sweat dampened his skin. “Can’t be her fault.”

“Maybe not. At least I know she can defend herself. She took all those classes. But if she keeps trusting the wrong guys…I’d almost say she should get married. At least if she had a husband like your cousin Joe, I know she’d be safe. But she’s capable on her own. Wish she’d realize it.”

Lorenzo held up a hand to signal a time out. He ran and gulped some water. When he returned to his position, Lee served again.

“I’m being too hard on her. She knows what she could do. She’s just got this fixation on marriage and family. Keeps pestering Jane about who her father is.”

“Sometimes you’re better off not knowing,” Lorenzo said.

“Exactly. Amy’s pissed now, me cutting short our vacation. And I’m staying at Jane’s until Rich leaves town.”

Lorenzo lightened, as if a ten pound weight had been lifted from his arms. Still, Lee wouldn’t follow Lita everywhere, and Jane couldn’t be trusted.

“If I can do anything…”

“Set her up with Joe before she chooses another creep. I’m only twenty-seven and already getting grays.” Lee laughed.

Lorenzo plastered a smile on. The sun glinted harshly in his eyes. But he played through.

***

By the next weekend Lorenzo’s cool mask cracked. Rich had been not only calling Lita, but also following her sometimes. He ignored Lorenzo’s warnings, so Lorenzo decided to make a more convincing gesture.

Thankfully, it seemed from Lee’s unwitting information, Lita only knew about Rich’s phone calls and not the rest. Lorenzo thought about going to the police, but knew he couldn’t. That would upset Lita further and implicate him. Of course, his plan would dig him deeper into illegality, but he couldn’t care. He would do anything to protect Lita. He had to call in a lot of favors and he really pissed off his father, both because Lorenzo wouldn’t explain anything to him and because his father didn’t like owing people.

The Saturday evening three weeks after the incident with Rich, Lorenzo sat in an inconspicuous old car Pete had procured and watched the narrow alley next to Jane’s bookstore, where Lita was working that evening.

“Lorenzo, are you sure you don’t want me to get one of my grandpop’s old contacts to handle this? Better not to yourself when it’s personal,” his cousin Vincente said as they sat in the backseat while Pete kept a lookout.

“No, I need to do this. I need to be sure she’s safe.”

Soon they saw Rich, then a while later Lita came out, looking young and cute in a black skirt and boatneck sweater, waving at a couple other girls who waited on the sidewalk. The three walked away together. At a discreet distance, Rich followed. Pete pulled the car out. Nico trailed Rich on foot. They all ended up at a small pub.

As Rich waited in the alley, Lorenzo made his move. Things couldn’t have been better than if they’d been planned. Pete eased into the street end of the alley, blocking the only other way out, as Lorenzo and Vincente came from an adjacent alley. The noise provided distraction, plenty of people milled around, the air dim with fog, all to the good. When they approached Rich, he panicked and ran, but Vincente caught Rich near the car and pinned him.

“Didn’t I tell you to stay away from her? You don’t follow directions well,” Lorenzo said.

“I haven’t done anything.” Rich’s breath came in small gasps; he’d given up straining against Vincente.

“Do you think I’m stupid? I told you I’d be watching.” He knew what Rich wanted from Lita. He’d gotten enough, Lorenzo imagined. His lightweight wool coat stifled him.

“I love her. I want to--”

A crazy laughter built in Lorenzo’s throat. He closed his eyes, but only saw Lita’s frightened, tearful gaze. He lashed out, punching Rich again and again as Vincente held him, his body hot with the mad desire to crush the life out of this man. Lorenzo’s breath sounded in raspy snorts, like a bull as he charges. Rich sagged against Vincente, but still Lorenzo pounded him.

“Enough. Stop.” Vincente’s low voice threatened.

Lorenzo glared at him as he let Rich fall to the ground, where he folded himself up, almost retching. Lorenzo bent down, to whisper in his ear.

“This is your last warning. Leave town by the end of the week or I will finish you.”

He swung back his foot to kick him, but Vincente grabbed him, pulled him to the car, and shoved him in. Pete drove away. Lorenzo studied his hands, streaked with blood. He leaned his head back, swallowed the sour spit of rage, and closed his eyes. Again, Lita’s face came to him, so sweet and innocent. He was no kind of man for her. He felt raw and bruised, as if he had been beaten. He felt, that was why. Lita made him feel, things he didn’t want to feel, things he couldn’t feel. He needed numbness.

***

Lita stood across the room at Lee’s loft. More beautiful than when he’d spent the night with her four weeks before. The other guests’ chatter buzzed about Lorenzo like flies around a dumpster. He shut his eyes and swallowed, but the pit in his stomach stayed. Opening his eyes, he focused on Lita. He licked his lips. His stomach rumbled, hungry.

She wore black stilettos, hose, a black pencil skirt, and a baby pink sweater which clung to her chest, making him want to go over to her. But she glanced at him, her brow puckered, and he knew he wouldn’t. Then she walked away and he tracked her backside, curved and tight against the sheen of her skirt. He came up behind her. She swiveled and smiled at him, a wholesome smile, but a hint of attraction sparkled in her eyes.

“Hey. I guess Jane was right about one thing,” he said, briefly caressing her sweater-clad arm. She didn’t smile now.

“Oh?” She lowered her eyes then gazed at him. Her lips parted as she stepped closer.

Maybe she was innocent but she knew how to get his undivided attention. “You have expensive taste. That’s a nice cashmere.”