Before they hijack me for another round of drinks at Sully’s, I take my leave. I’m not sure what I expected, but their reaction is typical. Raj gives me another complicated hand slap, and Mark mutters something unintelligible before going back to his room.
I haven’t spoken to the guy in the kitchen, but I wave at him as I leave. To his credit, Brandon gets off the couch and walks me to my car.
“Thanks for letting me stay,” I begin. I feel like I can’t walk away in good conscience without letting him know what a mistake I think he’s making. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Positive,” Brandon responds.
“Because I could get you another place to live or a…detox program,” I pause, knowing that I’ve probably crossed the line.
But Brandon doesn’t seem offended. He treats my offer the same way he treats everything I say. He shrugs and shakes his head, like he’s turning down an extra French fry. “I’m good.”
I get back in my car and drive away, stopping for gas before I hit the highway. That whole tangent did nothing to make me feel better. In fact, I’m even more confused now than ever. Not only am I worried about Sofia, but now I’m legitimately worried about Brandon, and I don’t know what to say to Marlena if she asks. She thinks he’s actually still in school, but from what I saw, academics were the furthest thing from Brandon’s mind. He may still be enrolled in college, but he’s obviously not going to class.
I stop for a bite to eat before I go home. There’s no place left I can hide out; I have to face the music. I’m worried about what my father will say. He hasn’t called or texted since I’ve been gone. I worry about what he thinks I’ve been up to. The last time I spoke with him, I hinted that I was going to seek revenge against Sofia. What if my father thinks that’s where I’ve been all this time? What if he thinks I killed her?
I arrive home around one in the afternoon. I count all the cars in the garage except Uncle Gio’s. He’s probably out doing the rounds. There’s another car that I don’t recognize, but I’m not concerned. There are always people visiting, and I’m not expecting today to be any different.
I walk inside, nodding to the guards. In the kitchen, I find Marlena and my father. They’re doing one of their over-the-top sappy lovers’ exchanges. She has a tub of yogurt in her hands and she’s feeding it to him like he’s a baby. It’s almost enough to make me gag, but I have to be mature about it. I’m happy theyfound each other, even though I won’t be joining them in la-la land anytime soon. My hopes for such a loving relationship have been trashed, along with everything I thought I knew about my former girlfriend.
“Frankie,” Dad says, looking up. He wipes yogurt off his bottom lip with a napkin and looks almost embarrassed.
“Hello, Frankie,” Marlena says, setting the tub of yogurt down. “How was your time away?”
“Fine,” I report.
“Glad to have you back,” Dad says. I’m sidetracked for a moment because I believe him. He isn’t asking where I’ve gone or accusing me of anything. He’s simply stating a fact: he missed me.
“Thanks,” I respond honestly. “I’m gonna go take a shower.”
I decide not to tell Marlena anything about Brandon. There’s nothing I can say that won’t cause her to panic. Eventually, maybe I’ll sit her down and explain my concerns, but not now. Right now, I want to take a shower in a bathroom that doesn’t smell like piss and lie down in a real bed.
I climb the stairs wearily, tugging my shirt off before I reach my bedroom door. It feels good to get out of the same clothes I’ve been wearing for three days. I didn’t pack for my trip, and all I had was the shirt on my back. It didn’t matter at the time because Brandon and his roommates didn’t change clothes either. It was just one big, stinking pigsty that they live in and I’m glad to be rid of it.
Turning on the water, I have an epiphany as the water rains down on my head. I went to visit Brandon because the universewas trying to tell me something. Just like I need to forget what Brandon is up to, I also need to forget about Sofia.
I’ll just close the book on both those chapters and start fresh tomorrow. I won’t tell anyone anything about what went on these past few days, and with any luck, they’ll magically disappear.
I linger in the shower until I’ve washed away all traces of that crappy apartment. Dragging myself back to my bed, I pass out almost before my head hits the pillow. I hope it won’t take long for my brain to paint over the memories of what’s transpired recently. The sooner I can let all this go, the sooner I can get back to my real life.
CHAPTER 30
SOFIA
The moment Frankie leaves the conference room. I have trouble breathing. I was sure he wouldn’t shoot me in front of everyone in the office, but when I can’t see him anymore, the panic really sets in. I wonder if he’ll be waiting for me in the parking garage, or if he’s already planted a bomb at my apartment.
I feel a rush of blood envelop my brain, and I know I’m going to have a panic attack. My face is flushed and my lungs are tight. I get dizzy and I’m forced to sit down. I put my head in my hands and do my best to breathe. I’m not a basket case, but I’ve had enough panic attacks to know that they all end pretty swiftly. I just have to hang in there, and I’ll be okay in a few minutes. But when the crisis passes, things don’t look that much better.
I’m still directly in Frankie’s line of fire. He could take his revenge on me in ways I haven’t even contemplated yet. What if he arranges to have me arrested for trespassing, or decides to go after my parents?
I have to get out of here and do something, but for the life of me, I can’t come up with a plan. I had the foresight to take somephotos of the journal before I handed it over. I also have the pictures Mario took of the restaurant. Maybe I can connect one source with the other and come up with a way to get ahead of the eight ball.
I gear myself up to leave the conference room, but the moment I step out into the bullpen, I get a head rush again. I run to the bathroom, worried that I’m going to throw up. Inside, the fluorescent lights don’t help. I pick a stall and drop to my knees, but nothing comes out. I feel like a college kid waiting to puke during a frat party. I’m drunk off Frankie’s threats but not drunk enough.
I kneel there, shaking, grasping the porcelain bowl with both hands. Someone else walks into the bathroom, interrupting my crisis. I close my eyes, waiting until they pick their own stall and lock the door.
I rise slowly, going to the sink to splash water on my face. I gaze at my reflection in the mirror, wondering why I don’t look worse. Sure, I look like I’ve had a bad day, but there’s no indication that the woman in the mirror is wanted by the mob. She just looks like an ordinary reporter, one who hasn’t had enough sleep.
I straighten my shoulders as the other woman comes out from her stall. I smile stiffly and leave the bathroom before I’m drawn into conversation. Back at my desk, I sit down. I’m determined to take this basket of lemons that life has handed me and make lemonade. If I can find a way to nail Frankie and his family to the wall, then maybe I can emerge from this situation intact.
