Heedlessly, I march over to separate the delusional girl from the counter. The poor thing wouldn’t accept rejection, even if it was court ordered and delivered in a manila envelope. “Jada, we need more vodka and rum behind the bar. I need you to pull them from the backroom.” I flutter my lashes because our boss is present after all.
She smacks her gum, ample cleavage on full display as she remains unmoved against the countertop.
Eamon visibly relaxes, almost as if he was waiting for someone to intervene.
“I’ll get to it later, boss lady.” She stretches and pops the gum while continuing to make bedroom eyes at Eamon.
He’s still on his computer, however his brief side glance and lifted brow goads me.
“Now, Jada!”
I could have done without the eye roll, but she heeds my request.
“Fine.” She groans. At a snail's pace, she makes her way to the backroom. Limping of course.
Finally, a moment to speak with Eamon. I pull the picture from my pocket, carefully unfolding it to show him. Without looking up from the screen, he lectures, “You're not very good at following directions, are you?”
Likely referring to the fact I came into work tonight, despite him telling me to stay home. My mouth pulls to one side, but I remain fixed in place, photo extended out to him.
Inevitably, he peers at the photograph. “Wow. Where’d you find that relic?” He takes the image within his hand. First looking delighted then gradually morphing into a sort of pained expression.
“I found it in some of my family's memory boxes. Not sure where it came from. It was a mess of childhood items from Theo and I… but I couldn’t recall ever seeing that photo before today.”
He makes anmhmsound, clearly transfixed on the worn memento. “I don’t remember this day, but I have a subtle recollection of our families getting along.”
That makes sense. He’s older than me, maybe five or six in this picture, so he must have memories as far back as when the Lombardis and Murrays got along. “I was young, but I’m certain I overheard something that wasn’t meant for my ears.”
I know I shouldn’t get overexcited, especially over long-lost memories, but I was hanging onto each word like it was a lifeline.
“Off and on… things jog my memory, like a scent or even a photograph. I swear I retained more from childhood than I ever did as an adult. Some things are better left forgotten. My mother was a saint. Always putting us first, ensuring we had everything we needed including friends to play with. I remember you. Just a little older than my own sister. I also remember Theo. Just snippets, but they were definitely real. One night, when I was supposed to be sleeping, I woke up to the sound of my father yelling. Even from the top of the stairs, his voice carried up to me. He was mad about the police raids. He even suspected another group was trying to sabotage his livelihood.” Eamon stops briefly; eyes scanning the room. He continues, “shortly after that, things changed drastically. No more playdates. We didn’t leave our side of town much.
Ingrained in my memory was the day of your accident. When I first heard about it, I thought I lost you both. It doesn’t make it any less significant, because you were still hurt. You were too young to get caught up in our parents' world. Too innocent to understand everything that was evolving around you. Your family all but vanished overnight.”
I feel my lungs burn for air just as I realize I’ve been holding in a breath the entire time he’s been speaking.
“My mother cried for weeks. She mourned the loss of our family’s friendship and the future we were meant to have. My father threw himself into work. While, the Lombardis just faded away, after they nearly lost their daughter.” Eamon leans in closer to me, speaking just above a whisper.
Jada emerges from the back, with an exaggerated hitch and two bottles of liquor. She sets the bottles on the counter, all the while she pins me with a look of pure discontent. Oh, for fuck’s sake, I willOld Yellerthis hoe if she interrupts! Lucky for her, she proceeds to hobble her way back through the swinging door to recoup more bottles.
Eamon resumes his story. “When the cops started busting in our doors, we suspected some other kind of gang or sudo mafia was trying to take us out. Law enforcement seemed to know too much. We tried weeding out the bad apples in town, questioning involved parties, and tracking down anyone who may have a grudge against us. Nothing ever surfaced. Until… I was led to you, little fish. My father—” He shakes his head as if struggling within himself. “My father… so blinded by his rage, thinks the Lombardis duped him into a false sense of security. Somehow convinced you killed my mother as penance for Theo.”
A gasp slips from me, before I can cover my mouth. “You know that’s not true. I’d never do that… my family could never do that!” The words pour from me as if my urgency could validate the claim. “I didn’t even know I was a Lombardi until recently!”
He searches my face then nods with finality. “I know that.”
Thank fuck! I fill my lungs which I seem to be depriving as of late.
“But my father and sister are convinced you’re at fault. They won’t listen to reason. I was given a timeline. To learn what Ican. Get close to you… but I’m out of time. My hands are tied without any proof that you're innocent. For some confounding reason, he believes your family is still running this town. Even from afar.”
I feel ill. What am I supposed to do with all of this? How am I going to find answers about Theo’s death and prove that my family aren’t murderers? Why does everyone only tells me things on aneed-to-know basis? So much confusion could have been avoided if everyone was simply more forthcoming!
Eamon pursuing me, taking me out, kissing me, only to validate I was or was not some sort of assassin? Rude. Feelings aside, I should be more concerned about the potential impending war between two powerful crime families, and me being somehow caught in the middle. Why can’t my life be more like a Sandra Bullock film as opposed to a Soprano finale?
Eamon closes his laptop just as Jada appears and sets down two more containers of vodka. “Have you found anything?” he mouths each word, so only I understand in this busy room.
I dry my sweaty palms down the front of my pants, feeling the tiny rectangle in my front pocket for safe keeping. This is not leaving my side until I identify what’s on it. Before I can think better of it, I tell him no. I glance over my shoulder to the man that has monitored me. Even though Eamon seems to “believe,” that my family is innocent in all this, I still heed Dax’s warning. Eamon was a prince, for all intents and purposes, to a powerful family empire. I need to proceed with caution.
Eamon rubs at his eyes, clearly exhausted. He begins gathering his items within a leather case. “Don’t give up… you’re bound to find something,” he delivers with a forced smile.
