Page 50

Thirty

Poppy

My back aches, my breath stales, and I know I look shaken, but I take my place at the end of the row of chairs and greet my fellow chefs. Each hug is like another dagger in my spine. He knew these people would hug me. He knew the pain he inflicted would last. He’s a seasoned pro at beating women. No varsity for that asshole. He’s all fucking professional at the women beating. I grit my teeth and purse my lips as I suck back a bottle of water, hoping it masks the vomit.

Lou is on the side of the stage, and Cady hangs in the shadows. He waves to me as I glance at him a second time with a sickening smile. There’s something so very off about the man.

I sit and someone tries to put a mic on me, but I can’t have them see my back. I glance at Cady, and he shakes his head. I ask for a handheld instead. I glance out at the crowd and it’s large. But it’s one very tall man on Cady’s side of the stage that I see in the crowd. Lou can see him, but Cady and Enzo can’t. Not that it matters, they don’t know Boomer, who is now in place because things didn’t go as planned.

Boomer catches my eye and lifts his chin. He does a head tilt to show that I should come to him now. I’ll only have seconds to run and get lost in the crowd. Brick insisted it would be better if I didn’t know what the diversion was so I react honestly.

I scoot to the edge of my seat as people start to settle. The moderator is standing and walking around, greeting people. She quiets the crowd and starts by having us introduce ourselves.

“Poppy Pietro, Sonoma, California.”

“I’ve eaten there! Poppy’s Cafe! I love that place.”

“Thank you.” I nod to the woman and grip my chair.

Boomer’s impatient as this woman chats with me, and I want her to move down the row. He’s practically ready to come up here and rip me off the stage. I glance again to the wings, and Enzo flashes me his pistol and his gold plated slimy grin. If I don’t die stage diving into a crowd of foodies, he will absolutely shoot me.

My palms are sweaty and the microphone keeps slipping. I place it on the empty chair next to me, and Boomer nods again. I pretend to pay attention to the woman talking while inching my body closer to the edge of the chair.

There’s a pop and I know it’s for me. I leap off the stage as everyone looks for where the noise came from. There’s a series of helium balloons tied around the proscenium arch of the stage, far above our heads. I bolt toward Boomer, shoving people out of the way. The balloons are popping loudly one by one and there’s a glint on a roof of a nearby building. Brick is shooting the balloons. I don’t look back, I only charge forward with every pained step knowing I’m closer to Sal. People are now shoving and bags and elbows are brushing my back, and I cry out every time. I can’t stop moving, or I know without a shadow of a doubt, I’ll never see Sal again.

A giant black hand wraps around my wrist and is now literally pulling me past people. “Head down Poppy, fucking run little woman. Run,” Boomer yells and it scares me more than Lou not talking to me. I try to keep pace but it’s less running and more stumbling and being pulled by Boomer.

There’s screaming and I hear more shots. Those aren’t the carefully, elegantly placed shots of distraction from Brick’s gun. Those are random and cruel, and I pray no one is hurt. The screaming increases as bedlam breaks out, and the other tents and stages pour out into the main venue to either panic or see what’s happening. I’d like to stop and apologize for creating a mess, but apparently, I’m on the run again.

Boomer sprints, and I breathe heavily. I’m not in bad shape, but I will say that if running is going to become more common in my life, no more experimental cigarettes. Fuck. My lungs burn, my back is on fire, and I can’t quite see clearly. My vision is a blur of colors and lines, but Boomer keeps his pace bobbing and weaving. He’s the only thing in focus for me.

We turn a corner into an alley. A car window gets shot out in front of us, and he throws me to the ground and spins. His gun erupts in a precise pattern. Then I’m somehow up again and running toward the corner of a building. We duck behind it and hear footsteps pounding. And then his greasy voice is yelling my name, “I don’t know where your man thinks he’s going, but there’s nowhere you can run.”

I am raw energy and bravado right now. My physical and mental form have flown off on holiday as I scream, “You will never win! You are a fucking pawn.” Boomer hisses at me and bullets fly around the corner. The gunfire is returned. More than one gun.

“You’re outnumbered, you redheaded bitch. You’re a thorn in everyone’s side, and I just got my wish. Cady…”

I yell before he can finish his sentence before Boomer can stop me. “Got you! Never identify the man. I don’t have to do fucking anything. You signed your own death warrant. Cady will kill you himself.”

“Not before I get to make you bleed, you dumb bitch.”

There’s a hail of bullets, and Boomer looks concerned, which is not the look I want on someone protecting me. A giant black suburban burst through several cars before it stops at the edge of the building. He should stay put behind the tinted protective glass, but I know him. He won’t be able to stay quiet.

Dressed all in black, his hair slicked back and a look, I rarely get to see. The one of pure darkness. The monster is unleashed as he puts himself literally in harm’s way.

Boomer and I stare mesmerized by the man. But it’s Enzo who shrieks like a girl.

“What the fuck?”

There’s a spray of bullets, and Sal winces. Then he yells, “Nice scream, bitch. Afraid of ghosts? Because you should be.” He squeezes the trigger and doesn’t stop. Boomer nudges me.

“Go now.” I see that he’s bleeding, and I don’t want to leave Boomer.

“You okay?”

“I’ve done and will continue to do my job. Careful, Fiona. I’ve got your family. Go. I’ll take care of them if you take care of him.” I think he’s a little in love with Sal and a lovely piece of this man falls into place. I can’t imagine life for him has been easy given his profession, his size, or his circumstances. I kiss his cheek and he says, “When the gunfire pauses, you fucking run. I’m going to pop up and cover you, and the two of you get out of here.”

Boomer doesn’t hesitate, so neither do I. He whips around the corner and starts shooting with two guns, and the thugs retreat behind cars and dumpsters. I run to the Suburban and the minute I’m in the passenger seat, Sal swings into the driver’s seat and we’re moving, momentum slamming both doors shut as the car takes on some shrapnel.