[Aldo]
I come out of the bar and grill on the beachfront and head back north towards my car. Joe has been running that little grease joint for years, letting everyone from bikers, traffickers, fliers, drivers, heist guys, and bodyguards eat and drink there.
It’s like a criminal who has open jobs and information. Of course Joe is confidential with all his customers and friends; he keeps a tight ship and an even tighter lid. He doesn’t trust many people.
But he does trust me.
Before I worked for Dante Rivera, I worked the grill and dishwasher at Joe’s.
My dad put me up to it, something about knowing my roots or some other stuff like that….
Mom and Aunt Elora were so proud when I decided to take dad up on his challenge to work at Joe’s.
Joe scared the shit out of me at fifteen. Five feet nine, arms like tree trunks, and wielding two twin spatulas. He also had a belly that probably weighed as much as me.
If anyone thought Joe couldn’t move quickly, they’d be dead wrong. When I turned to run away from work, he’d pinned me against the wall in seconds.
Pretty soon I was working for Joe 4 days a week and serving some of the most dangerous people
Miami had to offer, burgers and fries, hotdogs, and milkshakes. It was bizarre, yet very cool at the same time.
I suppose I took on some sort of edge, because Andre, mom, dad, and even Dawn had all began to tease me about the way I was starting to act.
I come to my car, unlock it, and sit down in the heat box. The windows go down immediately, and I begin running through my mental checklist of who else I could talk with.
Someone has been, and still is, trailing me and Dawn. I mean to find out who they are so I can get the fuckers to stop.
There are families rolling along the pavement, kids riding bikes and people walking around in swimwear. I watch all of it with a grin plastered across my face.
I still can’t believe I’m going to be a father.
I check my blind spot, change lanes, and turn left immediately. I drive along a few lanes then pull into an alleyway.
I’ve been doing stupid things like this the last couple days, convinced that someone is following me.
A car, a person I don’t know. But there’s a presence I feel…
I wait and watch the street. All the cars that go past are unrecognizable. No one I can pick from the other. Good.
I continue on out through the other end of the alley and head back inland. I keep driving until I hit the main highway, then turn on to go see Dawn and her mother.
I’ve been using any excuse to go and check on her and the bump. I whip my phone out and text that I’m on my way.
We haven’t told her mother yet about the pregnancy, and as far as Dawn is concerned, we aren’t planning on telling her any time soon.
Dawn’s been handling all of the New York business to try and keep her mother from knowing the truth about Andre’ death,
and since the NYPD decided that because his death is connected to organized crime within the state of New York, they’re holding his body on evidence based practices until anything else can be proven about the fire.
It’s giving her a headache trying to hide the truth, but I guess she wants to try and preserve some sort of vision of him for herself. Maybe herself too.
What it means, though, is that Andre is spending the next two weeks up in New York before being shipped back here. It’s getting harder to figure out an excuse for why it’ll all have to be postponed,
to the point where I think telling Dawn’s mom about the baby might give us a break. But it’d all be about the baby. So we’re waiting until after the funeral to tell her.
All that business of Andre is just a twisting knife that keeps reminding Dawn and I about him and his exit. I feel horrible. Like it’s my fault and mine alone.
I should’ve just told him the truth earlier. At the party. I should’ve asked him more about his troubles. I shouldn’t have let him fall like I did…
But that kind of talk is too hard on myself. It’s too late too. I’d just be torturing myself with misplaced guilt over his death. It’s all denial anyway, I suppose.
I’m not ready to let go and let it be real. I need to stop these bastards trailing Dawn and I. I need to solve this problem so I can get back to work.
I need to kill these fucking Russians. For Dawn. For me. For her mother’s and our own kids’ safety too.
Before long, the exit for our old neighborhood, comes up and I’m checking my mirror as I indicate and veer off the big, sprawling road. I count who’s coming with me.
Who’s been with me since merging, and who continues on…
There have been a few cars driving with me, and most have either left or kept going after I hit the exit lane. But four of them come down the off ramp with me.
Enough to hide amongst, I think. My pulse is steady, and I look between my mirrors as we wait for the lights. None of them appear to be interested in me. They all look normal. They all look like people getting somewhere.
It turns green, and we head through. It’s a short cycle and already turning yellow by the time we curl around onto the right hand side.
I spot a car coming down the off-ramp and screeching to a stop. It’s a hatchback-like thing, but from this distance, I can’t tell who’s driving.
I try to put the whole thing out of my mind. No one has followed me the whole drive here. Nothing has happened in the last few days to confirm anything. It’s literally my own paranoia, and I start to feel pretty stupid about it.
Even with all this thinking, I still take back roads to Dawn’s mother’s home. The five- minute drive turns into twenty, and by the time I pull up in front of the house, Dawn has finished the drink in her hand.
“This was for you,” she says, handing me an empty cup glass with plenty of condensation around it. “It was an iced tea. But you took too long, so I had to drink it.”
“That’s not a problem.” I lean down and kiss her as she’s rising up. It’s hot and humid weather out and I’ve got a sweat mustache. Dawn pulls away.
“Gross,” she wipes her mouth. “But, I guess I still love you.”
We grin and she opens the door.
“How’re you guys today?” I ask. It’s our code word for asking about the baby, but it could mean her mother too.
“Good,” Dawn says. She turns quickly. “Mom’s asleep,” she whispered. “Decided to nap after lunch.”
“Just us for an afternoon snack then?”
“Just us,” she says, grabbing my hand and pulling me through the door.