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Becca invited me to her apartment when we made it back, sent me through the alley behind the building to keep the prying eyes at the minimum. That was fine with me as I was a lot more noticeable than I liked to be, at the moment. I had already lit a cigarette by the time she opened the back door of the stairwell to let me in. It was the last in the pack, and I'd only opened it this morning. The temperature on my phone screen had finally hit zero.
"You're gonna have to give me a second, B, I don't wanna smoke around you in your condition but I really need one."
She gave me another watery grin.
"Little too much blood in the nicotine system, huh?"
"Exactly, my young friend, exactly that."
She propped the door open and sat herself down on the ground. I could tell the high heels were starting to hurt her because she kicked them off and set them neatly to the side, though I knew the concrete had to be freezing her feet off. She tucked her skirt between her legs and sat with her back against the wall, her elbow propped on her bent knee, the other leg stretched out straight before her. It was exactly how what was left of Antoni had been sitting beside me less than two hours ago.
I was getting a little tired of all the patterns appearing in my life these days.
I flipped to my news app, as was my habit. There was an article at the top of page about the preparations the SDNY were making to get ready for the coming storm, but frankly I didn't really give a fuck so I just kept scrolling.
"Your old neighborhood is in the news, B."
"You ain't had enough bad news?" Beccs asked with a rueful laugh.
"Eh, I like to stay abreast of current events. I mean, you got me pegged, B. I'm a nosy fuck. But, uh, fifteen years on the inside, you learn that it pays to pay attention to the shit other people don't notice, cause you never know when the information you pick up is going to end up being the information you need."
She gave me a look that said she had to yield to my point.
"So what's the news from Koreatown?".
"Somebody shot a wedding up, apparently. Says seven were killed, including the bride and groom and the bride's father, as they was leaving the reception. You know, most of these names are Rhees. Ain't nobody you know, is it? Kinda feel like you've had enough death for the day, kid."
There was another look on her face, one I couldn't quite read even with all my people-watching prowess.
"Lemme take a wild stab at it. Two of those names are Rhee Seong-Min and Rhee Bong-Cha."
"Yeah," I nodded. "You do know 'em. I'm sorry, B."
She gave a low, almost rumbling, chuckle. It gave me a little shiver, not from the cold, and not one of enjoyment, either. She flashed a sign, one I'd seen her flash before, but it wasn't from any gang I knew personally, and lacking any official affiliation of my own, I'd dealt with my fair share of different gang members in the Upstate Correctional Facility. Double E's, one backwards, one forwards, three quick shakes of each hand.
"God bless old K-town. But you ain't got to worry about it. I'll not shed a tear over any of them. They's family, but they ain't exactly family, you know. I might tell you about it one day."
The last sentence had a note of finality to it, so I didn't ask any further questions in that regard, but I was still as curious as always.
"If all your family has Korean names, how the hell did you end up as Rebecca and your Dad as Sam?"
"My Dad's name is Park Kyung-Sam. Just Sam was easier to tell people and he, uh, he wanted me to have the same benefit of blending in in American society, and he liked the name Rebecca. So, Rhee Rebecca Hyo-Jin. My Mom's name was Rhee Chung-Cha, but everybody just called her ChaCha, like from Grease."
"So your Mom was the Rhee?"
She made an affirmative noise and nodded.
"She didn't exactly wanna give up her family name, and… my Dad didn't exactly give a fuck cause he was in love with her crazy ass. You know, that's where I get this from. Except my Moms, if she was still around she'd make me look like I grew up to be a calm, quiet girl."
I'd hate to see what was worse than Beccs.
"You done?" Becca asked. I nodded, tossed my cigarette into the sand-filled bucket we kept here for just that purpose. I followed B inside and we climbed the stairs to the third floor. I leaned against the wall as she pulled a ring of keys from her coat pocket and waited while she unlocked the knob and the three deadbolts on her door.
"Pretty serious about your home security, B?"
She shot me a look but didn't say anything as she opened the door. A steady beeping greeted us, and Becca stopped just inside and punched in a code on a security panel. As I stepped around her and entered the apartment, I understood why.
Do you know that part in Coming To America where Akeem comes home to his dilapidated Queens apartment and realizes Semmi has filled it with expensive furniture? Well, it was exactly like that. Becca locked the door back behind her, threw her stilettos onto the shoe rack, and hung her coat on the brass tree beside it. I did the same, removed my boots to place them on the rack as well.
"Jesus Christ, B, this place looks amazing."
There was a gray suede sectional in the center of the living room, a 152 inch Panasonic plasma bolted to the wall. The coffee table, the wool Oriental rug beneath it, and the end tables looked antique, as well as the green velvet chaise set near one window. There were three ornately-carved bookcases set against the far wall between the two windows facing the street, one filled with DVDs, and on the other two almost all the books were old and leather bound. The kitchen was open to the room, separated by a butcher block bar from the living room, all matching stainless steel appliances and black marble countertops. All along the walls were family pictures dotted between massive paintings held in golden Baroque style frames.
They were… stunning was the only word I could think to describe them. Most of them were portraits done in a slightly impressionist style, impasto if my memory served me, seemingly random strokes of thick paint that somehow managed to form the perfect images of faces and a few nudes.
"Jesus Christ, these paintings must have cost a fortune alone."
Becca stepped beside me, her arms crossed over her chest as she surveyed the painting I was looking at. It was done in mostly black and red, the image of a sleeping nude man, one arm tucked behind his head, his other draped across his stomach, his hips and legs covered with a sheet. If I touched it, I could have felt the wrinkles in the bunched fabric. There was something oddly familiar about it.
"They didn't cost shit," she answered.
That made me look away from the painting and back to Beccs.
"What the hell? Did you rob a gallery?"
"No, you mook, I painted them. They didn't cost anything but the price of the canvas and the paint, which, you know, I stole most of that from school."
"You painted them," I repeated, looking back.
As I looked closer at the canvas, I realized why it was familiar. The sleeping man was our dear friend Antoni Zabrowska. I had mistaken his tattoos for shadows, though I had to admit I had never seen him look quite so relaxed. As I glanced around the room, I realized I recognized many of the paintings. I was able to pick out her father's face, Rossi's, and I realized the model for the two female nudes was none other than Nia Bianchi. There was one of a woman in white with bloody skeletal wings that bore a strong resemblance to Becca and I imagined that was the infamous ChaCha.
"That's what I go to Columbia for. Visual Arts."
"You're a goddamn genius, B."
She scoffed.
"No, I'm fucking serious, kid. My sister collects art, and she refuses to go for the big names. Shit like this, she pays 10 to 20 grand for a painting half this size, more if it's one of the artists she likes."
Now she snorted.
"What? Your sister got a money tree?"
"No, my older sister Aurie's a writer. She wrote her first book when she was ten. She's published 20 so far, but she's got 30 or 40 more in backlog that she's still tweaking. She's kind of a perfectionist when it comes to writing, but I guess it pays off. Her books sell like fucking hotcakes everytime she puts one out, two of her series got picked up by Netflix, and Lion's Gate turned her seventh book into a movie. She even got to be involved in the productions.
"She's got a penthouse on the Upper East Side that she bought about six years ago. That's where I lived when I got out of the Upstate. Aurora, she's a fucking Saint, you know. I mean, I had a shitty PO that was up my ass every five minutes but Aurie never said a word about it. She just… always told me she was glad I was home, which, you know, was nice to hear considering that according to my grandparents I died 19 years ago. She was the one that helped me get this place down here, paid in full for a two year lease."
Becca raised an eyebrow at me.
"No offense, Tony, I can tell you're crazy about her, but she couldn't have picked a better place for you than this hell hole?"
I laughed as softly as I could, to save the muscles in my stomach.
"I picked this place myself, B. Cheapest apartment I could find in any of the boroughs, and it even had three bedrooms. I was thinking about having space for a library and a home gym."
Becca snorted.
"Yeah, it's cheap cause the fucking place is about 90 years old. Nobody's been able to get a hold of the slumlord who owns it for repairs in 8 months, but I bet you the motherfucker still collects the rent checks we deposit in his fucking bank account every month."
"Yeah, I figured that out just about as soon as I moved in, but beggars can't be choosers. Besides, Antoni always used to help me out whenever something broke."
Becca gave a small smile.
"They did that for everybody. I used to call them the apartment elves, cause instead of making shoes they were skittering around fixing fucking toilets and sinks, and rewiring burned up outlets and bringing in new refrigerators and stoves when shit broke in everybody else's places. And they bought it all with their own money. Everybody tried to pay them, but they never took a dime for any of it. Ironically enough, Pops used to talk about Antoni all the time because of all the money he'd spend over there every week. Said he had a good heart, just no good sense when it came to what was his responsibility and wasn't. You know, I had my own opinions about Antoni's heart, but I kept them to myself."
"I really wish I had paid more attention when Antoni was working on the boiler, though. Instead of just passing him tools and running my mouth."
"Yeah, you're good at that," she replied with a smirk.
"And fuck you, too, Miss Rebecca. You might be the strong type, but you're not exactly silent yourself."
She laughed.
"Make yourself comfortable. I'll be right back."
I nodded and obeyed as she exited into what I saw was the bathroom as she opened the door and closed it behind her.
The sectional was goddamned heaven, and she'd said make myself comfortable so I kicked out the recliner and leaned back. I closed my eyes for a moment and sighed, and when I opened them I nearly jumped out of my skin. I barely managed to stop myself from letting out a yell as I jerked back up to sitting.
Antoni's corpse was standing by the picture wall, looking intently at a photo of a child Becca wearing a ruffled, cream colored dress with a ribbon in her long black hair. It was the picture of her first Communion.
"Goddamn, you can't give somebody a warning before you do that?"
He neither answered me nor turned to look at me because he was using the stumps of his wrists to adjust several of the frames back straight again.
"Fucking neat freak," I laughed. "She wasn't lying."
He finally turned toward me.
You ever seen a corpse try to look annoyed when he's missing about a quarter of his face? I mean, what am I saying, you probably haven't, but suffice to say, it's pretty fucking funny. He raised his left wrist, and if he had hands, he'dve been shooting the bird.
Almost hysterical laughter burst out of me as Becca exited the bathroom.
"Least the pipes ain't frozen yet," she muttered.
She gave me a strange look.
"Who are you talking to out here? And what's so funny?"
I glanced back to Antoni, but he was gone again.
"Don't mind me, B, I'm pretty sure I got a concussion. I'm pretty much seeing pink elephants at this point." Or, you know, the mutilated corpse of my best friend, but it's probably best I leave it at elephants.
"Yeah," she answered, and crossed the room to hand me something. "Speaking of."
It was a mouth guard.
"What is this for?"
She didn't answer me, but headed to the kitchen and opened a cabinet, withdrawing a cut crystal scotch glass and then opening the refrigerator and withdrawing… two bags of blood. Nia's blood, to be exact. She unscrewed the cap at the bottom of one, punctured the seal with a fresh insulin needle, and to my supreme discomfort squeezed some into the glass. The mouth guard suddenly made sense. It was so I wouldn't break my teeth or bite my tongue off when the convulsions started and my jaw locked down from consuming demon blood.
"Oh no, B, I don't want that."
"Yeah. That's why I didn't tell you why I wanted you over here, cause I knew you was gonna be a pussy about it."
I tried one more last-ditch effort.
"You need that more than me, B."
"I can just take my next dose early, but you, you can't go down and see Ma looking like that. She's gonna ask too many questions."
That one stopped me.
"I've had enough of interrogations for one day, B."
"There ain't no interrogation when it comes to Ma. She just puts it in your head that you ain't got no choice but to tell her the truth, and you do. She's made state witnesses get up on the stand and confess their own crimes, pleading the fifth be damned."
She screwed the cap back onto the bag and carried them and the glass over to the coffee table and set them down. She walked over and opened a closet door, pulling out an IV pole with a little box attached to it, and grabbed a small cardboard box from off a shelf and what looked like a tackle box. She set it on the coffee table after she pulled the pole over to the sectional and plugged it into the wall, opened the cardboard box and removed a cassette from inside and inserted it into the box on the pole.
"What's that?"
"It's a blood warmer for rapid transfusions, so I don't go into hypothermia or hemolysis. Little bastard cost 137 thousand, but at least you can buy them online. You put a fresh cassette in every time, the blood runs through it, by the time it gets to my arm it's body temp."
She opened the tackle box and removed two fresh lines, attaching one to the bottom of the warmer and one to the top, hanging the bags of blood but not connecting the first of them yet. The top had a drip chamber with a filter, and the bottom held the flow regulator and the hypodermic needle with the cannula inside.
"You know, it's not fucking fair, B, you shouldn't have dealt with half the shit in your life that you have."
She snorted and her lips pursed with anger as she sat down beside me.
"You sound like Rossi with that shit. That's why he wouldn't let me die, said it wasn't fair. I was ready to go into hospice, fuck it, I was ready to see my Mom again. But I'll tell you the same thing I told his stupid old ass. Life ain't fair. Cause if it was I'd have my mother and my baby's father and Jimmy's ass would be the one laying in the morgue. You think it's fair you almost lost a finger because of what he ordered?"
I laughed.
"No, I actually think that's pretty fair. That's karma, B. I was usually the one doing the beating. How do you think I ended up in prison?"
She looked hard at me for a moment.
"I mean, you never told me. You were pretty open about having gone to prison, but you never said why."
"Well, I learned to be open about it. Some people get real upset when they find out they're dealing with someone who's been through the system, so I didn't really wanna go through that again. So now I just tell people up front, let them decide for themselves if they wanna deal with me or not. That way they can't throw it back in my face, say I lied to them."
Becca let out a bitter chuckle.
"So what's your story?"
"Well, we still ain't finished your story, yet, but we'll take a detour. The whole thing started my Senior year of high school. First game of the year, I blew my knee out, big as a bitch, tore everything there was to tear, shit was basically hanging on by the skin alone. Orthopedics said I had two choices, keep playing football or, retain the ability to walk on that leg, so… there went all my big dreams of college ball and making it onto the Giants."
"Linebacker?"
I nodded. "Middle linebacker. I was good at it. 6'7, 265 pounds but light on my feet, all muscle. Back then I was running 7 percent body fat, and wasn't even trying. Shit just… all came natural to me. It all blew up in my face. Shitloads of surgery and physical therapy, and then one day the pain pills stopped but the pain didn't. Everyday, every night, I was still hurting."
She nodded.
"I know about bone pain. I could always tell when I needed to up the dose when my bones started hurting. When I started out all it took was an insulin needle. Now I take so much, I'm not even sure I qualify as human. But I guess I won't be much longer. That's always been the plan. Just keep me alive till 30 and Ma's gonna make me like her. That's the preferred age for the Entrance, something to do with the Trinity."
I nodded.
"I started asking around school if anyone knew where to get some Percs but pain management keeps that shit so tight I could only get a few at a time. Not only was they expensive, it wasn't enough. I got hooked up with this kid named Alessandro, he told me if I really wanted to control the pain, he could get me something better and cheaper. He took me to meet his uncle, Colombian guy named Marco. First shot is free and it was… it was beautiful. Everybody always gets sick the first time, but I didn't. And then after that, all my free money from my after school job started going to horse, and uh, I got my last six months off school. I already had all the credits I needed from AP classes, started working full time. They didn't piss test. But, my tolerance was rising faster than my income was."
I took a deep breath.
"I'd been buying enough that Marco was offering me fronts but I never took it. So next time I went, I asked him for my usual and I asked how much it would be for two O's on the front, cause I knew a lot of other users and I was thinking of starting to sell myself. So, he told me he'd give me a pound, and we could settle up at the end of the month."
"Jesus Christ, if you were selling a pound a month you must have been making bank."
I shook my head.
"I wasn't in it for the money. I was in it to keep myself supplied. If I kept my prices right, I could use for free, and I had enough left over to pay my portion of the rent and help pay for the groceries. I got good at it, I'd take a shot, and nod out for a few minutes, then get up and start walking the streets."
Becca snorted.
"You wasn't standing on a street corner?"
"Fuck no. Too visible. I did all my business by phone. I had a burner and gave everyone the number, and when they needed some they'd give me a call and I'd meet them or they'd meet me. I had ethics. I used to have people offering me fucking blowjobs for a bag, but I always said no, shit felt wrong. All they had to do was pay me by the end of the month but, sometimes…"
She gave a grin.
"But sometimes, 'Bitch, where's my money?'"
"Yeah, sometimes people would try to skip out, so I had to apply a little pressure to persuade them to pay. I never killed nobody, it's hard as hell to get money out of a dead man. But, black a few eyes and break a few bones and suddenly they had money they didn't before. Being my size, there wasn't many of them that could fight back. But, I fucked up the wrong lowlife.
"There was this prick, he'd been dodging me for weeks. He owed me like two grand, I'd given him that much because I knew he had money, so when I finally caught up to him, I was pretty mad and, the bitch, he told me he wasn't going to pay me. Thought he was better than me, thought he could fuck me and get away with it. So I beat the mortal hell out of him, took his wallet. He had five grand in there but I figured, 3K surcharge for wasting my time."
I shook my head.
"But I should have done some better research on who I was going after. Turned out the little prick had a socialite for a mother and his Daddy was a hedge fund manager and… I'd hurt him pretty bad. First three months, not only was I dealing with DTs, I was waiting to see if they were going to add Murder to my charges. He was in a coma for that long, and when he woke up, he had to learn to walk again, how to feed himself. I beat him so bad I gave him brain damage."
"Goddamn, Tony."
"Apparently his parents knew their son's habits and knew exactly who I was, cause they went straight to the police, and two days later SWAT showed up, turned the house upside down. I smashed my phone into pieces, flushed it so they couldn't get my contacts, but I didn't think about the fact I still had the wallet with his driver's license in it. My grandparents disowned me, right then and there. I had just reupped so they caught me with 14 ounces, all it takes is 8 for Class A felony possession. I spent 13 months in Rikers, but my sister got me a good lawyer, he knew the judge and the prosecutor personally, golfed with them, so he got me a plea deal. I was looking at life in prison, but he argued that I was a good student that had made a bad mistake because of a chronic pain issue, and they were both first offenses, so if I pled guilty, agreed to go through a substance abuse program and anger management, then they'd give me the minimum sentence.
"15 years, Class A Felony Drug Possession, 3 years, Class B felony First Degree Assault, intentionally causing grievous bodily harm while in the commission of another felony. But, at my sentencing, the judge said I was a big guy, with a big anger problem. I hadn't killed anyone, but it wasn't for lack of trying. Said I was a danger to society, so when I got to the UCF, they put me in dark red."
"Supermax?"
I nodded.
"23 hours a day in a box by myself, no visitors, barely saw the guards. But, I stayed quiet, made no problems. Prison was overcrowded so I ended up with a cellmate, and I was glad to see him. It could have been Hannibal Lecter and I would have gave him a hug. He might have been a murderer but he was actually a decent guy. Him and his crew had knocked over some jewelry stores in Manhattan, last job went bad. He'd killed three cops, so he wasn't never getting out. Neither was his wife. Life in Bedford Hills."
"That's where they was gonna send me if Ma hadn't got the jury to give me a Not Guilty verdict."
I knew Becca had a tendency to get in trouble because beside the cheerleading pictures in the bodega, there was also a mugshot.
"What did you do?"
She gave a bitter chuckle again.
"Unlike you, I killed someone. 2021, this fucking crackhead tried to rob the store. He shot the customer that was in there, old guy named Mickey, killed him. He used to live in your apartment. Tried to shoot me, too, but the gun jammed and I had the aluminum baseball bat under the counter. I just started swinging. He went down, but I jumped the counter, and hit him again. Blood lust is a real thing. Once I saw he was bleeding, I wanted to see more. I beat his brains out, literally, he was dead long before the cops ever got there. Bat looked like a toothpick when I was done.
"They arrested me, and the DA himself showed up at my arraignment. Said self defense didn't apply, sent me straight up to Murder 2, requested I be denied bail because I had a passport and plenty of money so I was a flight risk. But we all knew the truth. He was still pissed that he hadn't been able to send Rossi away for longer, and I was the next best thing. Ma had to pull a lot of strings to make sure I still got my transfusions when I was in lockup. I was in Rikers for four months, had my eighteenth birthday sitting in the Singer Unit."
"Goddamned patterns," I muttered, then raised my voice again. "You, me, and Antoni all got that in common, except he wasn't like us. He was already in prison. That's what the rose meant, turned eighteen in prison. Life sentence, triple murder."
"He told you that?" She looked betrayed, so I was quick to answer.
"No, the tattoos told me that. Google is my best friend, B. That's what the skull and crossbones, and the coffins on his arm meant."
She swallowed, and nodded again.
"But, I moved down," I continued. "Went to orange when they moved me to Gen Pop, and I had friends waiting for me. Marco was very appreciative of me keeping quiet about my source at trial, so outside Abuela Bogota's was where I hung out the most. But I had friends all over. My sister was smart. She always put way more in my account than I could spend, so whenever I heard that somebody needed something, I'd go to the canteen and buy it myself and pass it to 'em. Nobody had to owe me shit. All I wanted was to be left alone, so I had people watching my back from all sides. I ended up in blue, got moved to the dormitory, started working in the kitchen, ended up running it, cause I was a 'model prisoner.'"
"You ever fool around with any of your cellmates?" Becca asked with a grin. "Cause I did."
I gave an uncomfortable laugh.
"I mean, yeah. 15 years is a long time to be alone. I don't consider myself bisexual even, but if somebody offers, you know…" I shrugged.
"I think the word you're looking for is heteroflexible. That's how Antoni referred to himself. He had a thing for you, you know."
That stopped me dead.
"You're fucking with me, B."
"Nope. He asked me once if I'd mind if he ever got the chance to hook up with you, and I told him no, as long as he didn't mind I still hooked up with my old girlfriends from high school. But he never asked you, said he loved you too much, was afraid of ruining your friendship."
"Jesus Christ," I shook my head, finally decided I needed time to process that, and moved on. "But, my last year there, Covid hit, and, I volunteered to work in the infirmary, but pretty soon the infirmary was filled, they started keeping people in the hallway, and finally they just ended up leaving them in their beds, I was all over the place. People dropping like flies. Everytime someone coughed or sneezed, everbody'd get nervous. I been smoking since I was 16, so I cough my lungs out every morning.
"People was looking at me like I was Death Incarnate. But I never caught it, not even once. And I was all around the sick, I was taking the bodies out to the truck outside the gate. Could've run but I didn't. Only had a few years left. It worked in my favor. They cut the last three years off my sentence, put me on supervised release and now, here I am, 36 years old, and just starting my adult life."
"Rossi got let out of lockup right before lockdown, poor bastard. Me, him, and my Dad all quarantined at Ma's, but of course, you know, me and Dad was essential workers so at least I got to get out of the house everyday. I graduated early, at 16, been working seven days a week since."
I glanced at the glass on the table.
"So let's get back to your story."
She shook her head, lips pursed again.
"Uh-uh, you're not wasting anymore time. Take the blood, but first," she reached out, quicker than I could even register, and used her thumbs to set my broken nose back straight.
I let out a yell, momentarily unable to see as my eyes filled with tears.
"Jesus wept, Becca, fucking hell, goddamn."
"Sorry. It would've hurt more if you'd known it was coming. Besides, you're a good looking guy, Tony, you don't wanna ruin your face."
"Thanks, B," I muttered as I pressed the toilet paper back to my freshly bleeding nose, tears streaming down my cheeks. "Need a haircut though."
"Nah, you oughta keep it. It's very The Dark Knight Joker, just black, not blonde and green."
I laughed quietly.
"Not sure that's the best association, B. A little too psychotic and violent."
She raised an eyebrow at me.
"Alright, alright. It's probably an accurate association, just a little less arson and murder." I sighed and looked at the scotch glass. "So how do I do this, B?"
"Think about it like a tequila shot. Take the shot and then slip the guard in quick. Then sit back, try to relax."
I nodded and grabbed the glass before I lost my nerve. I raised it in her direction.
"Saluti."
"Geonbae." She responded.

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These last few parts have taken a lot longer for me to write than I thought. A lot of shit has gone down in the last two months, and a lot of it, frankly, is kind of a blur. But I figure, if you've stuck with me this long, then you deserve to know how it all ended up so I'm going to try my best to remember every detail of what happened.
Me? I've spent every free hour I've had, just lying in bed. I've got a lot of healed wounds that still hurt me pretty damned badly.
Blood loss from multiple gunshot wounds and then drowning in the East River, dying and then being brought back while still human, incidentally, takes a lot out of a guy.
But… I'm getting way ahead of myself.
Where were we, again?
Oh yeah, that's right. The funeral without caskets, inside of a Ukrainian restaurant just off the boardwalk in Brighton Beach. That's where I left off at.
()()()
Antoni's corpse and I had spoken together for a while longer, about Beccs and their baby, actually, sitting there in the floor in front of the three empty bathroom stalls. The next moment, as usual, he was… just gone.
It took a while to slow the bleeding, and it took even longer to try and clean myself up with just hand soap and paper towels and the water from the sink. Nobody came into the bathroom again, and as I left, I saw why. There was a sign on the door that read 'Out of Order' with something printed below it in Cyrillic that I imagined probably said the same thing as the English.
My new winter coat had been left on the floor in front of the door and the Emergency Exit at the end of the hall had its alarm disabled and had been left propped open with a brick.
I took that as a clear message that they didn't want me rejoining the party, so I exited into the alley and sat on a milk crate chain-smoking until 2 PM when the funeral ended.
The weather app on my phone said it was 10 degrees outside, but oddly enough the cold air felt soothing on my bruised face. My eyes were nearly swollen shut, and every now and again I had to pull some of the toilet paper out that I'd stuffed in my pocket to wipe another trickle of blood from my nose when I sniffed a little too hard and moved the clots loose.
At 1:57, I started to hear people exiting the restaurant, so I moved onto the sidewalk to wait for Becca. The people leaving the funeral only glanced at me for a second and then looked away with a bored expression, like I wasn't even there. Finally, only Becca and Toni's immediate family were still inside.
Tatiana gave Becca a hug, Igor, a gentle handshake, and Antoni Sr. bent down, cupped his hands around Becca's face and pressed a chaste kiss to her forehead. I could see that his right hand was bandaged and he was holding it straighter than his left. Good. I hoped the fucker had broken it when he'd punched me in the jaw.
As Becca exited, I could tell she was angry even before she stomped over to me and shoved me three times in quick succession. Like Jimmy, Becca was a lot stronger than she looked, but now I knew why. I couldn't do much but ball up and take the hits.
"Where the fuck did you go? You just took off and left me there by myself. 'He wouldn't have left without saying goodbye if he had a choice.' You knew, you cocksucker, you knew, you knew he was dead!"
"Yeah, I knew! Antoni was in the news. But we gotta get the fuck out of here, Beccs, you're making a scene, another one, and I gotta get outta this neighborhood before something worse happens to me."
The high color of anger in her cheeks dropped away immediately into a pallid white. She'd been so pissed she'd never once registered the state of my face.
"Jesus Christ, Tony, what the fuck happened to you?"
"Your little Polish sausage's Daddy Dearest just beat the fuck out of me in the men's bathroom, that's what the fuck happened."
"Why would he do that?" Becca asked, but I didn't answer. She looked back to Skovorodka, following my gaze. Antoni Sr. was still standing there, just inside the front door, watching me with narrowed eyes, his hands folded neatly behind his back like a soldier at ease. It reminded me a lot of how Antoni used to stand while we were waiting for the train together.
"Fuck," she muttered, then "Shit," and grabbed me by the arm. "Come on."
"Why would he do that?" She asked me again as we climbed the stairs to the train platform.
"Antoni was Mob, Becca, Bratva. His whole goddamned family is. Him and his brothers and his father and his fucking Russian uncle, and I'd say your Mama Tatiana probably isn't in the dark about what her brother and her hubby and his sons do to make a living, either. I don't know why the Zabrowskas were on the Avenue, but suffice to say it was probably for nefarious reasons, and Jimmy found out about it and took care of business.
"Only I don't think he realized exactly who he was taking out at the time he did it, or else he never would have put the body in the River for somebody to find. And then the other three showed up to avenge their brother, only two of 'em never made it past Bianchi any farther than Antoni did."
"The fuck are you trying to say?" Her tone says she already understands just fine and doesn't want to.
"I'm saying your dear sweet Mamma killed your boyfriend, Becca. She removed all the identifying marks from his body, ate what she wanted, then pulled all his teeth out and chewed off his hands and his feet. They dumped the body in the East River and they found him about 5 days ago, floating off of Battery Park."
"Oh God. That's why. I asked Tatiana where Antoni was going to be buried and she told me in the public cemetery on Hart Island. They're not claiming the body because they don't wanna go to the cops. For the last week I been cussing him for everything he was worth, and he's been laying in the fucking morgue." She pressed her hand to her mouth, and I saw her bloodshot eyes filling with tears again.
"Please don't cry, Becca, cause I'm gonna start crying again and I've cried enough for today."
She sniffed back her tears and swallowed hard.
"But I don't understand, Tony, what the fuck does that have to do with you?"
"They knew, Beccs, they knew how the Zabrowskas died, who killed them, and they knew I helped Moretti get rid of the bodies afterwards. That's why Antoni's father went after me. The uh… the fucking Pakhan thought Jimmy sent me there to rub it in their faces that they weren't going to be able to bury any of their boys."
"How the fuck would they know that?" She barked at me.
"Somebody's feeding them information and not some asshole on the street, somebody from inside the Camorra."
"Who would do that?"
I saw her eyes darting about wildly as she tried to think of the answer to her own question.
"I don't know, uh, the driver that brought Moretti, he didn't look like he was too fond of Bianchi, maybe he's a fucking option."
"Frankie? I mean, him and Ma have never gotten along. He's never liked her and the feeling's mutual but… that doesn't make any sense, Frankie's always been loyal to the Camorra. Rossi always said he practically muttered the Omerta in his fucking sleep, that he was a soldato down to the bones."
"I have no idea, Becca, but it gets worse," I said quietly. If it didn't hurt so goddamned bad, I would've squeezed my eyes shut.
"How the fuck could it possibly get worse, Tony?"
"First you gotta promise you're not gonna hit me again."
Her hand balled into a fist, and I couldn't help but flinch.
"I'm gonna knock you the fuck out right now if you don't stop wasting my time, Cipriani."
"I sold her out, Becca. Bianchi. I told them where she lives and how to find her tonight."
"You what!?"
"I had to! He was gonna cut my fucking fingers off, and I don't know if he was going to take all four or just three but I wasn't about to fucking find out. I kind of need those fingers seeing as I'm a fucking southpaw!"
I held my left hand out to her, curled my fingers inward, but the third finger just… stayed straight. "Ah, fuck, I didn't even notice that."
"Jesus Christ, the tendon's been cut," she whispered, and when she pressed her hand to her mouth again she looked less like she was swallowing back tears and more like she was trying to swallow back vomit. I couldn't really blame her. I felt pretty nauseous myself.
"You know, I'm, I'm not worried about Ma," she said, finally. "It wouldn't be the first time somebody's tried to take her out. She's harder to kill than they think."
"Would, uh, would cutting her head off work? Cause if so I think they're already pretty aware of how to get the job done. They… they know Bianchi's not human, Becca."
Her face got paler, if that was even possible, and her eyes were the size of saucers.
"This is a goddamn nuclear disaster. Jesus fuck."
We stood the last few minutes waiting for the train in silence. As the doors slid shut and we sat down, Becca began laughing wildly.
"So you're in hysterics for real, huh?" I asked.
"You're gonna have to forgive me, I'm a little slow on the uptake today, but I just got it, Polish sausage… only, he wasn't little, you know, he was hung like a fucking horse, and it's a goddamn tragedy for women everywhere that the man isn't on this earth anymore. And he knew how to use it, too. Best sex I ever had in my life… only sex I ever had in my life, but that's not the fucking point." A short, barking sob tore out of her.
I groaned. "You know, that is way, way more information than I ever wanted to know about you and Antoni's sex life. You couldn't, uh, you couldn't let that one pass by, huh?"
"I never pass up the opportunity to make a good dick joke. And he had Good Dick."
I laughed and regretted it as it tightened muscles in my stomach that were still a little angry about being used as Antoni Sr's personal punching bag.
"Touché, Miss Rebecca, touché."
"The two-faced bastard, I gotta give the motherfucker that much, you know, it's a uniquely personal way to say Fuck You to the Underboss, getting his teenaged daughter pregnant. I am so, so goddamned tired of being a pawn in other people's games. He's lucky he's already dead or I'd kill the bitch myself," she whispered.
"It wasn't a game, Becca, what happened between you and Antoni," I whispered back. I knew because Antoni's corpse had told me as much. "Don't ask me how I know, cause I don't wanna talk about it, but it wasn't a game. You didn't know about him and he didn't know about you and it was a big, fucked up coincidence. You loved him, and he really, truly loved you... he worshiped the ground you walked on." Actually, he had said he worshiped the boots she walked in, but I figured it was a translation issue. "It was a regular old Romeo and Juliet: Brooklyn Edition."
She squeezed her eyes shut, snorted and at the same time choked on another sob.
"Yeah, but Romeo and Juliet ended in a double suicide, not a murder and a single mother." Her tiny hand went to her mouth again, and she wasn't able to hold back the tears this time. "I miss him, Tony, I miss him so fucking much."
"You know, Beccs, I miss him, too." I miss him when he was alive, not looking like a walking nightmare, and talking my goddamned ear off half the time, but I wasn't about to tell her that. "He was the first friend I made down here."
"It's fucking stupid. I still remember every single thing he said to me those first few times I met him."
"Odd as it is, I do too, Beccs. He was that kind of guy, I guess, he didn't have to work hard to make an impression on people. It was, uh, three days after I moved in, I think. I was in the basement, getting ready to do my laundry that morning, fighting with the stuck knob on that machine down at the end? And he walks in with his clothes basket balanced on his hip and reaches past me and just… turned the fucking thing, like it wasn't even stuck to begin with. 'It has an attitude, but it likes me,' he says, and I say, 'I can see that.'
"And he, he told me his name. 'Zabrowska,' he says, 'Antoni.' And I laughed and said, 'Nice to meet you, Toni, I'm Tony.' 'Really?' he says, and I say 'Yeah. Really. Antonio Alessio Gioele Cipriani, the third, if you please.'"
"Goddamn, that name is painfully Italian. No wonder you tell everybody 'Just call me Tony,'" Becca snorted.
"Thank you, Miss Rebecca, I can assure you I didn't pick it myself. But, 'Ah,' Toni says and kind of taps his hand in the center of his chest, 'Junior.' And I laughed again and said 'Our parents were goddamned creative when it came to the baby naming, right?' And he laughed, too, and shook my hand.
"And uh, a few days after that he showed up outside of my apartment and asked me if I wanted to go watch a game with him and his brothers at the sports bar down the street. It was Poland vs Korea. I still don't know shit about soccer, I've always been more of an American football kind of guy, but I did learn quite a few Polish swear words that day. Apparently they'd all bet money on the home team winning that game."
"I bet you did. Poland kept catching red cards that whole game. I bet on Korea, of course, and altogether I won 8 grand from four extremely pissed off Polish dudes when we stomped their ass all over the pitch. I had no idea how seriously the four of them took soccer. Antoni wouldn't even talk to me for three days. Probably didn't help I made an ass of myself laughing at all of them. Course, I woulda bet more if I'd known they were good for it. Dry cleaners, my ass," Becca spat.
"Well, in Antoni's defense, he probably did work at a dry cleaners like he told us, just like you work at a bodega, and Jimmy and me work at a restaurant, and Pops works at a hardware store. We all got day jobs. You know, I hate to bust your balls, Becca, but did it… never occur to you to ask Antoni if the tattoos meant something?"
"No," she said weakly. "I mean, I knew they were prison tats but Jesus Christ, half the people I know have been to prison. You've been to prison, half of my cousins have been to prison, hell, Pops has been to prison. You weren't here then, but all of 2016 to 2020 I was wearing a 'Free Rossi' t-shirt everyday, a lot of people in this neighborhood did. Ma got him off on the Murder 1 charges but numbers are numbers, and she couldn't get him out of the Tax Evasion. But I figured, if Antoni didn't wanna talk about it, then it was none of my business what had happened before we met each other."
She'd minded her own business a little too hard this time.
"What did you and Antoni talk about, Becca?"
"Everything! And anything, and nothing, all at the same time. He'd complain about living with his brothers, about Misiu always leaving hair all over the bathroom, and how Ciech always left sugar all over the kitchen counter after he made his coffee. And I'd complain about having to pick up all the empty bottles of makgeolli after my Dad in the morning. I'd help him wash all the dishes his dirty ass brothers would leave piled in the sink, and fold everybody's clothes.
"We got along well, me and Antoni, we were actually very compatible, we were both neat freaks when it came to our housekeeping. We even folded our towels the same way. And he'd bitch about how Igor could never balance the register correctly at the end of the day, and I'd bitch about how my Dad never checked our invoices correctly, and I was always having to cuss out the distribution reps for shorting us on our deliveries myself.
"And we'd watch TV together. He always made fun of me for the lame ass old Chuck Lorre sitcoms I loved to watch, and I'd make fun of him for all the stupid cop dramas he watched, every Law and Order known to man, and Blue Bloods and shit. We just… talked to each other, like we were two regular people, just living our lives. It was simple and it was easy, and it was enough, it was goddamned enough for me. Our relationship was the one normal thing I had going in my fucked up life."
She cracked at the end, sobbing brokenly. She turned her head to the side, pressed her face into my bicep as she wrapped both arms around mine. Tears filled my eyes, as well, and now I was wiping snot out of my nose as well as blood. I felt goddamned sorry for the kid, and I felt like she had a right to cry, but I had to distract her, for my own sake.
"So tell me, when was the first time you talked to Antoni? Was that the same day he asked you out?"
"No, there was some time between the two. He'd been there about a week, I guess, after they moved in. They got there back in like April. I'd fucked with him the first day, you know, asked him where the hell the accent came from, and he said Poland, and I told him welcome to America cause I felt like being a dick. And he said that he'd already been in country five years and I laughed at him and told him, goddamn, I couldn't tell cause he still sounded like he was fresh off the boat. And he got this look on his face, like he was trying to decide if he needed to be offended or not, so I told him I was just fucking with him, that he was doing better than my Mom, God rest her, cause it was seven years after she got here from Seoul before she even learned a word of English and my Dad was the one that had to teach her."
"Makes sense. I moved in in June, Toni mentioned he'd only been in the building about two months hisself."
She nodded, I could feel the movement in the sleeve of my coat where her cheek was pressed to my arm.
"Him and his brothers started coming in every day after that and you know, I kind of had my eye on him from the first time I talked to him. He was goddamn gorgeous, quite literally the walking definition of 'tall, dark, and handsome.' He had those incredibly blue eyes, and that fucking accent, man, shit put me in knots everytime he came in. I learned them all pretty quick, and Antoni was easy. He got the same thing everyday, box of Newport 100s and a pack of Russian Cream Backwoods with a large slushy. You know I gotta keep the cups behind the counter because motherfuckers'll fill it up and walk out when I get busy. I saw him when he came in, and went over to the ATM, so I had his shit sitting on the counter waiting for him."
Becca had a talent for memorizing all of the regular's orders, it wasn't unusual to see a long line of cigarettes, blunts, medicine, sometimes even crack pipes and Chore Boys, and anything else she kept behind the counter, set up neatly next to the register. She also had a talent for running both registers at the same time when the line got overly long and she was there alone. Sometimes I had no idea how she kept up with it all, but that was just Becca.
"And this drunk asshole came in, right after, he didn't even belong in the neighborhood, he stayed in Bed-Stuy, but he was with his cousin, and his cousin I knew and he was shooting me apologetic looks so I was already on guard. I was in a bad goddamn mood that day, anyway. And the drunk bitch, he walked over to the bathroom and tried to open it."
"Key's behind the counter," I said, and she nodded.
"And the key costs five dollars cause people make a fucking mess in the bathroom and I ain't cleaning that shit everyday for free. Well, drunk fuck got pissed and started talking a bunch of shit and threw his five dollars down on the counter, and you know, I can't stand that. You don't throw money at me, I ain't a goddamned stripper, you can put that shit in my hand or you can get the fuck out my store. And, I said 'Naw, son, for you it's gonna cost ten, five dollar Drunk Dick surcharge for being an asshole and cutting my line.' And the motherfucker… he called me a fucking stupid little bitch, and he told me people like me needed to be sent back to my own country."
I made a sound of disapproval, already seeing where this was headed.
"I hate that stupid shit. Where the fuck am I getting sent back to? The fucking hospital in Manhattan where I was born? Everybody in the store just kind of stopped and stood there, and dude's cousin? He just shook his head at me and walked right out the store and left him there."
"He wasn't gonna get involved, huh?" I asked.
"Fuck no. He wasn't stupid. I… uh, I was seeing red by that point so I balled up his money and I threw it across the store and told him to get the fuck out. I don't even remember half the shit I said to him, but I was yelling and he was yelling back and all of a sudden Antoni was… just there. I never even noticed him walking up. He was a big motherfucker, but goddamn he was quick and quiet when he wanted to be."
Becca laced her fingers through the fingers of my right hand and I gave them a squeeze as she readjusted her head against my shoulder. I turned mine to press a kiss to her hair. She was short enough that I didn't have to worry about bumping my nose. As I turned back, I noticed that there was a puddle of water on the seat across from us, and a pit formed in my stomach immediately. My face felt cold as the blood drained from it. The puddle of water made me more than just a little nervous to see it.
I had new enemies stacking up quick, and the last thing I needed was a pissed off, jealous ghost because his grieving fiancée was getting a little handsy with me. But… Antoni never showed himself, so I could only assume he approved of my offering her comfort in her time of need. Either that or he was waiting till I was alone to express his displeasure.
"'Is there a problem here?' was all he asked and the drunk bitch turned around and he got even more pissed. He goes 'Man, fuck you, white boy. Mind your own goddamned business.' And Antoni kind of got in his face, and goes, 'I have made it my business. She told you to leave. Either remove yourself or I will remove you.'
"And the liquor must've given him a bigger set of balls than he actually had, cause he took a swing at him. And Antoni, he just kind of… leaned back a little to avoid the swing and then leaned back in and… he knocked that bitch out cold with one punch. And then he picked him up, literally picked him up, and threw his ass out on the sidewalk, and kind of dusted his hands off afterwards."
"Well, if he's anything like his father then he could throw a hell of a right cross."
Becca laughed weakly.
"Yeah, his Dad boxes, they all did, you know, from when they were young. Antoni told me he got in his Dad's face once when he was about 16, and Old Papa Zabrowska coldcocked him in the kitchen, and when he woke up on the couch, his Dad dragged him out back in the alley and beat him bloody. Told him if his little grown ass thought he was a man, then he was grown enough to get his ass stomped like a man."
That made me feel a little better, to be honest. At least I wasn't the only one I knew who had caught an ass kicking from Antoni Sr.
"I bet he didn't talk shit to his Pops again after that, huh?"
"I asked him that exact question, he said 'Oh no, no, never again. I learned my lesson.' Toni and his brothers, though, were always getting in fights, even when I knew them. He told me it was hard on their Mama, back in Kraków, having four hormonal, teenaged boys with just shy of a year between each of them, you know cause… us fucking Roman Catholics ain't too fond of any method of contraception."
"I didn't know you was Catholic, too, B."
"Of course. Rossi is a devout Catholic, and that's how he raised me, and Nia, she's an Angel, you know, a Fallen One, that's what they call themselves, but she's even got real wings. A little more leathery and less feathery, but… same thing. She goes to Mass daily, turns out demons are actually very religious. Both of my parents were atheists, and that's how they raised me, but after some of the shit I've seen, you know, it ain't too unbelievable that there's a Big Guy upstairs."
She sniffed again, wiped at her nose and I offered her a bit of toilet paper from my pocket.
"That's how it all got started, the War in Heaven. God created Adam, the first living human body, and he told all the spirits in Heaven to kneel to him. And at least half of them weren't too fond of that idea, and the Morning Star stepped up as representative and said they wouldn't kneel to anyone but God. And they, uh, they lost the War, and He banished them all to Earth, to wander without bodies of their own while the other side got to come to Earth one at a time, to live their lives.
"But… then there was the first murder, Abel. Cain beat him to death with a rock, and the blood on the ground, the first human blood ever shed in violence, it called to God, but He wasn't the only one it called to. The blood, it gave him a way inside of a body. Lucifer. He was the First One. He's still here, you know, I've met him. He has a particular fondness for Nia, he calls her Young One, cause according to him 1607 wasn't all that long ago."
"I guess it isn't when you're that old."
"But, back to what I was saying about Toni, all of them were packed into one place together like fucking sardines, the four boys sharing one bedroom in a two bedroom apartment, and all having vastly different personalities. Tatiana is little, like me, and I don't imagine she could do much to break them up when they got to fighting about everything from who ate all the leftovers to who got the top bunks on the beds."
"Probably not," I answered.
"I mean, I could practically smell the testosterone in their fucking apartment whenever I walked in, and it was probably even worse back then. And apparently, that had been their Dad's method of keeping them from tearing up his wife's house all the time. Whenever a problem inevitably developed, he'd just take them down to the gym and throw them in the ring without any gloves and tell them to fucking handle it, and whoever was still standing at the end was the one that won the argument.
"Uh, but, uh, when Toni hit the guy, all, all I could do was stand there with my mouth hanging open like a fucking fish. I mean, I was in love, right that fucking second, standing there. The hormones were running on overdrive, my head was practically spinning with how fast all the blood rushed south, you know? Everybody was still standing there and Antoni tried to get back in line and I said, 'Uh-uh. Take your shit and go on.' And he goes," Beccs began laughing again, laughed so hard there were tears in her eyes once more.
"He goes, 'Am I in trouble?'''
I had to wrap my left arm tight around my stomach because I couldn't stop myself from laughing either. The makeshift bandage on my left hand that I'd wound out of paper towel had soaked through, I was going to have to change it soon.
"He didn't say that, Becca."
"Yes the fuck, he did. And I went, 'No, you dumbass, it's on the house, and in case I gotta translate, that means it's free. Small price to pay for a security detail.' And he just kind of blinked at me for a second, before he nodded his head and grabbed his things off the counter, went and filled his slushy up."
"You probably scared the piss out of him for that second, he probably thought he'd been found out. That's what they call it, what he was, Obshchak, Security Group."
"He stopped before he left, and told me thank you. And I said 'No, dziękuję', thank you. And then I winked at him and said 'Miłej nocy, piękna.'" She straightened up as the train began to slow for our stop.
"And what did that mean?"
"Have a good night, gorgeous." She said with a watery grin.
"Smooth, B, real smooth. Nothing quite like hitting on a man in his native language. "
"I mean, you know us, Tony, we got Southern Hospitality down here. As long as you're not an asshole, I do everything I can to make sure everyone feels welcome when they come inside. That's why there's a sign on the door that says 'DMZ.' They might have beef on the streets but don't nobody take that shit inside my store. And that means asking the Mexicans down the street if they need a bolsa, and making sure I ordered Farid's miswaks so he didn't have to walk all the way down to the Pakistani store, and sometimes it means learning a little bit of Polish so I could flirt with the new guy downstairs the next time he came in."
We exited the train, made the switch, and stood on the platform waiting for the next to take us back to Avenue U. As I glanced to the side, I could see a puddle forming on the platform next to me, drip by drip. It was already freezing around the edges. As it turned out, I wasn't the only nosy fuck around here.
"And apparently the flirting was well received by our dearly departed half-Russian friend."
"Apparently, cause about a week later I was having a busy fucking Friday night and my Dad had already gone home, and I was trying to shut her down but motherfuckers kept coming inside right up until 11. I made DeAndre from downstairs stand at the door and tell people we were closed and that he was the last customer for the night and after I rung him up I told him to flip the sign on the door and I'd lock it when I finished my cigarette count… only, I forgot to ever lock it, and DeDe's traitorous ass, he fucking set me up. He knew I had a thing for Antoni, and when he saw him coming down off the platform and rushing down the sidewalk, he let him in and told him he was the last customer for the night and to flip the sign on the door."
She closed her eyes for a moment.
"It took me… exactly 16 minutes to notice he was there. I know, cause after I was done pissing myself when I figured out I wasn't alone, the Polish smart-ass showed me his watch. He'd set a timer when he realized I wasn't paying any attention to him, and then just stood there, waiting to see how long it would take. I had my earphones in, and it took four songs," she held up her hand and ticked them off with her fingers. "'Savage Like', 'Money, Sex, Drugs', 'Proud' and 'Only.'
"I turned around and screamed like a little bitch when I saw him. And then I got pissed, cause I was embarrassed, I'd been singing along to all the songs cause I thought I was alone in the store. I started screaming at him. 'What the fuck, you can't read? The sign says Closed.' And he goes 'No, it didn't. It still said Open. I turned it myself.' I hadn't counted down my register yet, so I just went ahead and grabbed his shit and rung him up, cussing DeDe the whole time and I asked him how long he'd been standing there, and he showed me his watch. And he says, 'You shouldn't wear those, it's dangerous,' talking about my headphones, and I said, 'What are you, my fucking father?' And he got kind of a funny look on his face."
I released a weak snicker, holding my stomach tight again. I couldn't resist fucking with them both a little bit.
"He kinda had a point, Becca. Although, I can tell you he was probably less concerned about being your father and more concerned about becoming your Daddy."
"Oh, so now you got the dirty jokes," Becca said flatly.
"What can I say, B, you're a bad influence on me."
"Eh," she said after a moment, "You wouldn't be the first. You know, months later he told me that he'd stood there that long because he didn't think he'd have the nerve to ask what he wanted to ask the next time if he left, which, you know, what the fuck? What am I, scary?"
I couldn't help but laugh again.
"Yes, Becca, you are, you're fucking terrifying half the time. You might be a short fuck but dynamite comes in small packages, you know? He was probably afraid you'd tell him to suck your dick and ban him from the store for a month like every other poor motherfucker I've seen ask you out, and he probably didn't want to go through your particular brand of ridicule in front of an audience, on top of that, with all the other customers laughing him out of the store."
"It ain't my fault I'm this size," she said after a moment, shooting me a perturbed look.
"No shit, Sherlock. It's genetics."
"It ain't even that. It's the blood. I mean, my parents were both tall, you know, for Koreans, anyway, my Mom was 5'6. I probably would've been too if I'd had the chance, but, you know, the blood it… stops things. Why do you think Jimmy looks the way he does? I mean, Pops believes in 'aging gracefully,' as he says, but old Giacomino is a vain fuck, and he's got more of a taste for 'the Stuff' than Rocco ever had. He turned 65 this year, he's only two years younger than Pops, he was already 34 years old when he met Nia for the first time. He tells people he's got a good plastic surgeon, when they ask. And the same thing happened to me. My body wanted to stay 8 years old, forever.
"Rossi had to get hormones, fucking estrogen and progesterone and HGH, off the black market to force my body to start puberty and to fucking grow. It's not like we could go to a doctor and explain why I needed the prescription. I mean, these tits aren't even mine. Ma bought 'em for my sixteenth birthday so I wouldn't feel so goddamned self-conscious. Nia's not exactly flat-chested, as you know, neither was my Mom, and it kind of gave me a fucking complex when I was growing up."
"I mean, is she? I haven't really noticed," I replied, evasively.
"Yes, you have, you lying fuck. There isn't a straight or bisexual man, or a lesbian or bisexual woman for that matter, that comes within fifty feet of Appolonia Bianchi that doesn't notice all of her unnatural charms. It made for some interesting 'family' trips during the summer when we'd leave the city, lemme tell you. I asked Pops once, you know, if he ever got jealous when she'd show up with some random dick she'd run across, cause I used to think it was pretty shitty of her.
"I said she could've at least kept things on the downlow and not throw it in Rocco's face every few days. But he told me no, he loved her, he understood her nature very well and he'd accepted what she was years before I was even born, and that she loved him too, and more importantly, respected him. She always introduced the men to him because that was what he'd asked of her. That it was the one aspect of control he had in the situation, giving his 'permission' for her little liaisons. That it made him feel better to let them know they might be getting a piece, but she'd be ending every night lying in his bed, regardless of what they did."
I nodded. "I guess I can kind of see his point."
"But, the blood, that's how I ended up pregnant. I mean, I'm not a dumbass, I know how babies are made, but I wasn't worried about using condoms with Antoni, neither of us wanted to. I told him if he gave me anything I'd cut his dick off, and he knew I was serious, too, and he considered it a proportional response. I didn't even think I could get pregnant.
"I stopped the birth control when I was 16 because it was making me gain weight and my cheer coach bitched me out in front of fucking everybody, and Rossi's guy said I needed to keep taking it to keep my hormone levels even. So I told Antoni I didnt want to get into my medical history, but suffice to say I was probably fucking sterile anyway, so he didn't have to worry about it, and he told me he wasn't worried about it at all. But apparently my fucking parts work better than I thought."
"Or maybe he had some damned determined swimmers, who knows."
"I don't know why I was even concerned about not using condoms anyway. Technically we were all excommunicated as of 2014. Pope said the mafiosi lifestyle isn't compatible with the Catholic one. You know, I wonder how Antoni would feel about all this, I wonder if he'd be pissed, think I lied to him about not being able to get pregnant."
"You're just gonna have to take my word for it, B, but he's not angry in the least, he's pretty fucking proud of hisself." I'd say his chest was stuck out but he didn't have much of a chest left these days, so I just kept that part to myself. "Pretty sure he said he wasn't worried about it because he was hoping you were wrong about being sterile."
Beccs gave me a strange look but the train arrived at just that moment. The people exiting did quite a bit of staring, unlike the people leaving the funeral, but I just tucked my arm around Becca and shouldered my way past them and found us a seat. The drops of water followed us into the train.
"What's with the present tense, Tony? Is that some kind of cliche 'he's lookin' down on you' bullshit?"
I snorted and wiped the bubble of blood from my nose, staring at the puddle of water that was starting to form in the seat next to us. I could feel the cold emanating from Antoni all along my left side. Oddly enough, it was easing the intense ache in my nearly severed ring finger.
"He ain't looking down on us, B, I can tell you that much."
"So it's a Hell joke?"
"No, not really. But then again, I'm pretty sure we're all in Hell right this second, Miss Rebecca, so yes, yes it is."

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It was another hour and a half before I finished cleaning the floor in the dining room and the kitchen, and started on Nia's booth. I threw the plate away that Misiu's head had been sitting on, as I didn't really want to risk having something served back to me on it even if I woulda run it through the dishwasher fourteen times. The sprite had dried in Nia's water goblet and the sugar had caked onto the bottom of it, so I threw that away, too. The syrup in the dispenser had congealed. Having left it in the cooler, how it had gotten back onto the table, I had no idea.. I wasn't entirely sure there had just been strawberry juice and sugar in that syrup anymore, knowing who used it for her waffles, so it followed the rest into the trash.
Between the two of us, we'd finished the bottle of vodka and I threw it away also. I had more than just a good buzz going by the time we were done, but Becca seemed largely unfazed. She finished the counting and the calculations, tore the long slip of paper loose from the adding machine and put it back into the duffel bag. The final calculation read $176,547.00. As I watched, she wrote out twenty-seven different deposit slips from various banks across the boroughs and sent me to the front of the restaurant to grab some doggy bags from the register. She made a few notes in the account book, and divided the money up with the slips in the plastic bags, tying them shut and putting them back inside the duffel bag.
"I ain't entirely sure you shoulda been drinking while doing that, Beccs," I was slurring just a bit when I spoke, so I weaved my way over to the coffee machine and poured two cups, carrying the other back to Becca. She took it from me, black and with no sugar, and started sipping at it. "That's a hell of a lot of money to possibly make a mistake with. Hell, that's more money than I've made in my entire life."
"Jesus, you broke fuck, this is just for the week, and it was a slow goddamned week. Besides, I could do this shit in my sleep. I been cooking Jimmy's books since I was 12. He figured out pretty quick my Dad couldn't be relied on. And you know, I ain't that drunk. I got a strong constitution. Per capita, the Korean population consumes more alcohol than the entire country of Russia does, you know."
"Today I Learned," I quipped, and she laughed.
I diluted the industrial bleach in the bucket according to the instructions on the back, after I'd poured the bloody water down the drain at the mop station and filled it with a gallon of scalding water. I coated the table and the booth with the dilution after I had scrubbed the last bit of blood off the tabletop. The two spots on the dining room floor got covered next, and the one in the kitchen. I threw the rags away, poured the bleach water down the drain to rinse out the last bit of bloody residue, and returned to Becca's booth to nurse my coffee while the dilution sat for the required twenty minutes. The bottle had only said ten, but I figured you could never be too safe where blood was concerned.
Becca switched her phone screen on and selected 'Asshole' from the top of her Contacts list. She put it on speaker and the call was answered on the second ring.
"Yeah?" It was Jimmy's voice on the other end.
"Deposit's done. Just under 200 grand. I'm upstairs, and I want this goddamned money off my hands, you fucking wop."
"Alright, alright, hold your hors–" She hung up the call before he'd finished speaking with a smug look on her face, and took another sip of her coffee. Becca had a set of steel balls, I'd give her that much.
Jimmy and Nia came up about ten minutes later, both dressed now. Jimmy looked over the account book and compared it to the adding machine paper and signed an X in the verification box before he took the black duffel bag and disappeared into the back again.
Nia stood beside Becca and reached down to caress her face. Becca looked up and smiled at her, covering Nia's hand with hers.
"Buongiorno, Mamma." Nia bent down and they kissed each other's cheeks.
"You smell sad, cara mia, tell me, who do I need to kill?"
I snorted into my coffee, scalding liquid filling my sinuses, inhaled half a gulp in reflex, and sputtered and coughed until I got the hot liquid out of my lungs and nose, reaching blindly for the napkins in the dispenser on the table.
Becca shot a glance at me, but didn't say anything as she looked back up to Bianchi.
"It's no big deal, Ma. It is what it is. I'm a big girl, I'll be fine, I can handle my shit."
"Che bella bambina, stai crescendo così in fretta.," Nia said fondly. 'What a beautiful baby girl, you're growing up so fast.' "How are you on your medicine?"
"Last shot is tomorrow."
"Give me a few days, my treasure, and I will get you more."
I'd finally managed to stop myself from drowning and I noticed with a sinking feeling that Bianchi had turned her attention to me.
"I'd like to go out tonight. Here is my address. Pick me up at 10 PM." She handed me a little slip of paper with a Stillwell Avenue address written on it in handwriting that looked more like calligraphy than a quick, jotted note.
I glanced to Becca and she raised an eyebrow at me. Don't be surprised if you end up on the rotation, she'd said. Guess she'd been right.
"Yes, ma'am," I answered quietly, and she grabbed the tip of my chin with cold fingers and gave it a little shake.
"Sweet boy," she purred, and then walked into the back herself. Jimmy passed by her, and counted out two thousand dollars to Becca and another thousand for me.
"You did a good job, Ton'. You can come in when you wake up in the morning, it's gonna be a late night. All hell is gonna break loose when that storm hits in two days. They're calling for 36 inches and 45 mile an hour winds, it's gonna be a record breaker, so tonight's your best option. She'll wanna go to Sapphire's Times Square, and make sure they cook her steak right this time. Seared on both sides, if it isn't bleeding when it comes out, send it back." He counted out another thousand and handed it to me.
"For expenses," he said, and then handed me a car key. "You do know how to drive, right?" I nodded. "Take my car. I don't want her on the train. Shit's a little hairy right now."
Well, considering yesterday two members of the Russian Mob tried to cut her head off, I can kind of see his point.
"Gotcha, Boss," I answered, and he left without another word.
"Sapphire's?" I asked Becca, once we were alone again.
"It's a fancy strip club. Couple hundred horny dudes packed in one building, so, a succubus all-you-can-eat buffet, basically."
I looked into my coffee cup and finally put voice to what had been eating at me for the last few minutes.
"What did she mean by medicine, Becca? You sick or something? Cause I used to have a horse problem and that's what I always called it, my medicine, and I can tell you Becca that's not shit you wanna be messing around with."
"Jesus Christ, Tony, I'm not a junkie. I am sick… or you know, I was. It's kind of in limbo at the moment."
"What the fuck does that mean, Rhee, speak English."
"It's AML, asshole." She spat. "Acute myeloid leukemia. I was diagnosed at 8 years old. They gave me six months to live, even with treatment. But the funny fucking thing about terminal blood cancer is it responds really goddamned well to once-weekly whole blood transfusions of the demonic variety, and it just so happens I know someone with a limitless source of what I need to keep the cancer in total remission."
I felt like an asshole.
"Jesus, Becca, I'm sorry."
"Just forget about it, Tony, I don't want your fucking apology."
Becca switched on her phone again, dialing Rossi this time.
"Baby girl," He answered.
"Hey, Pops. We got a problem. The boiler's gone down in the building. It was 35 degrees in my living room when I left this morning."
"Jesus Christ, Becca, it's 19 outside now. Why didn't you call me earlier?"
"Cause you're an old fuck, Rocco, you need your sleep. I'm gonna send the new guy over to help you out. Maybe you can liberate some of your stock of space heaters and electric blankets. Write it off as a charitable donation."
"Jesus Christ." Was all Rossi said, and then hung up the phone.
()()()
I waited for the cars to clear the Avenue for just a moment and headed across the street and into Rossi's Hardware. Rossi was in his usual uniform of khakis and a plain white button-down, but he'd already pulled his coat on. There was a U-Boat in the middle of the store floor and he was stacking it with a few electric heaters, electric blankets, boxes of hand warmer packets, Propane tanks with heating units on top, carbon monoxide detectors, and Kerosene heaters. I didn't wait to be told what to do, Pops might have been a nice old man but he had a grim look of determination on his face that told me he could probably be damned nasty if he had a mind to be.
"There are 18 units in that apartment building. One's empty. The wiring is shit in that old place and we're gonna start a fire if there's a heater and an electric blanket running in all 17, and the last thing those people need is to be homeless in the middle of a fucking blizzard." Rossi said, and I nodded, and went to grab more of the Kerosene heaters off the shelf. He grabbed 4 Kerosene jugs from off a shelf and headed into the back, where I knew he had a single Kerosene pump beside a Propane tank for refilling bottles out behind the store.
After I had counted out the correct number of heaters, I headed out the back door and grabbed the two Kerosene jugs he had already filled, carried them inside and set them on the end of the U-Boat. He came back in with the last two a few minutes later, and then he held the door open for me while I pushed the U-Boat through.
He flipped the sign to Closed on the door, and we made our way down the sidewalk. Rossi held the lobby door open as I pushed it inside.
"Start on the first floor. Start knocking doors and handing them out, I'm gonna go upstairs and start calling people down."
"Got it," I nodded, passed by the mailboxes in the center of the hallway and headed to the left to start banging on doors.
"Maintenance!" Was all I could think to yell at first. "We got heaters for youse guys."
The first apartment opened. It was a red-haired girl carrying a screaming baby in her arms, her name was Katrina. The kid, Bobby, had a coat and a hat on, mittens covering his chubby little paws, but his tiny cherub cheeks showed livid red spots from the cold.
"Oh thank God, God bless you, God bless you." She said in a rush, then pushed past me and started banging on the door of the apartment next door to hers. "DeDe! Open up! They brought us heaters!"
The man inside came out a few seconds later, bundled up just like Katrina was, and headed down the hall to the third and fourth apartment as Katrina had gone to the fifth. It took less than five minutes to distribute the supplies through the first floor, Danny from 4A and Vic and Mina, the man and woman in 6A each grabbed a heater and began carrying them up the stairs to the second floor.
"Tell 'em to close off the rest of the apartment. Put the heater in the living room, and crack open a window if it's not electric. Anybody with Kerosene or Propane gets a detector, too. Carbon monoxide will kill you a hell of a lot faster than the cold will." I called after them.
Farid, the guy in 1C, waved to me as he came down the stairs.
"Hey, I'll keep handing these out. Old man upstairs says he needs you."
I climbed the stairs two at a time and as I breached the hallway, I could hear Rossi knocking heavily on the door to 6C.
"Abre la puerta, abuela. Estamos aquí para ayudar. Hola! Mrs. Morales!"
I made my way down the hallway as quick as I could.
"She ain't answering." Rossi said to me. He pulled a little leather folder from his pocket and withdrew a set of lockpicks. The lock was open in a matter of seconds, and I followed Rossi inside as he called for the widow again.
We found her in the hallway, lying face down in the floor. Her walker was overturned beside her. Rossi crouched down and pressed his fingers to her throat.
"Fuck me," he muttered. "She's gone. Call it in."
()()()
Rossi headed back downstairs to finish the distribution of the heaters. I told the dispatcher I had gone to check on my elderly neighbor because of the heating problem in our building, her door had been unlocked and I had found her collapsed in the hallway, not breathing. They sent a bus and two police cars, and they took my statement as the EMTs pronounced her dead, and sent for the coroner's van.
"Don't feel bad, kid. Nothing you could've done for her. She's been dead at least 6 hours." The cop tells me. "Wasn't the cold that did it. I ain't a medical examiner, but from the look of the muscles in her face, my money's on a stroke. Lost my Mom the same way. At least somebody found her early. It's the ones that nobody notices missing for a few weeks, those are the real sad ones. You take care of each other, alright? It's only gonna get colder."
()()()
Rossi left a Propane heater outside of my apartment. I did as I had told the others, closed my bedrooms and bathroom off, and hung a blanket over the kitchen doorway and cracked open the window before I lit the heater on the tank, and plugged in the electric blanket. I left my clothes and boots on and climbed under the blanket, wrapping my frigid hands around the warming packet.
()()()
I jerked awake with a yelp as I heard a rattling at my window. Becca was outside on the fire escape, and for a long second I thought I was having another nightmare because she was wearing a long black dress, and in the six months I had known Becca, I'd never seen her wear a dress once.
She knocked at the window again and I crossed the room and lifted my window the rest of the way open to let her in, and slid it almost shut behind her.
"Jesus Christ, B, you scared the shit out of me."
"Sorry," she said weakly. "Fucking cops are still clogging up the hallway or I woulda knocked at your door."
She looked distinctly unsettled.
"What happened?"
"Mrs. Morales had a stroke last night."
"Goddamn," Becca whispered, and I noticed that one high heel clad foot was tapping out a nervous rhythm on the floor.
"What's going on, Becca, why are you dressed like that?"
"Tatiana just called me."
"Who?"
"Toni's Mom. She told me to dress for a funeral, and I don't know whose fucking funeral I'm going to. I don't wanna go down there by myself, Tony, come with me, please."
"Go down where?"
"Brighton," she answered. "I got this sick fucking feeling, man. You ain't got a suit, do you?"
()()()
I did have a suit, one I hadn't worn since I was sixteen, but somehow it still mostly fit, if a bit tighter than I remembered. I had a strong sense of deja vu, looking at myself in the black suit in the mirror. As I opened the bedroom door I saw Becca barreling into my kitchen and I heard the sound of her puking her guts up in my kitchen sink.
She was pale and sweating as she stumbled back into the living room.
"Vodka caught up to you, huh?"
"I guess," she whispered, wiping at her mouth with the back of her hand. There was the ding of a notification from her phone. She unlocked her screen and took a long look at it, her frown only deepening. She stared at the wall afterwards.
"Becca?"
"Come on, I gotta stop by the bodega first."
We headed down the street and I stood just inside the front door of the bodega as Becca headed into the back of the store. She was gone for about fifteen minutes before she barreled out of the back and headed out the front door, and I had to stretch my stride to catch up to her. She was already at the platform when I finally caught up to her, and I hurriedly tapped my card on the OMNY reader and headed through the turnstile just as the train rolled to a stop.
I sat myself down beside Becca as the train doors slid shut. Her face was ghostly white.
"You gonna throw up again, B?"
She didn't answer me, but pulled a little plastic stick out of the pocket of her coat and held it out where I could see the two pink lines in the test window.
"You're pregnant?"
"I didn't think about it, you know. My cycles have never been regular but my FitBit said I was supposed to start my period today, and I ain't had one in like… three months."
"Jesus Christ," I whispered.
"Do you think… do you think I hurt it? By drinking? The… the baby." She looked her age in that moment, just a scared teenaged girl.
"You been drinking a lot lately?"
"No, not in months. Haven't felt the need to since…" She trailed off.
"Since you and Antoni?"
She nodded.
"I mean, I'm pretty sure fetal alcohol syndrome takes more than just one time. I'm pretty sure you gotta drink regularly and for a while, you know?"
"I gotta get to the doctor," Becca muttered. "I got no idea what the transfusions are doing to the kid."
"You know, I think it's fine. Baby's got its own blood supply, the two don't mix."
We took the L line down to the New York Aquarium, then got onto the Q line to take us to Brighton, and walked the rest of the way to Skovorodka. There were two large placards outside of the restaurant, three wreaths and a pile of flowers in front of them. I could read it, as we got closer.
'Out of respect for the Putlova family, we will remain closed to the public from 11 AM until 2 PM.'
The second placard had three pictures on it, and I knew which three faces I was going to see there even before Becca began screaming.
I'd never heard anyone scream like that outside of a movie, like the audio equivalent of pulling your lungs out through your throat. I caught her before she hit the ground, but I don't think she even realized I was there.
There was a commotion inside of the restaurant, a blond woman coming to the door. Igor, the last surviving Zabrowska brother, was just behind her. He'd probably been the one to put the slug in Jimmy's stomach yesterday, now that I thought of it, but he'd gotten away alive, unlike Misiu and Wojciech. There was a dark-haired man behind him, and if physical resemblance was any indication, I would say that was Antoni Zabrowska Sr.
The woman, Tatiana, I guessed, exited the restaurant and headed straight to Becca. She gathered her away from me.
"Oh, moya dorogaya, ty bednaya malen'kaya devochka."
I didn't understand much Russian, my vocabulary kind of peaked at privet and spasiba, but I could understand her tone just fine. Becca hung onto her, still wailing, her hands white-knuckled in Tatiana's mourning black.
I opened the door for them and Tatiana somehow managed to maneuver Becca inside. I followed them and Tatiana led her to a table in the back of the eatery. Igor stepped forward and I offered my hand to him. I was surprised when he took it.
"My condolences for your family's immense loss."
"It ain't true, Mama, it ain't true. He's not dead, he's not! You're lying to me! Jesus Christ, tell me you're lying!" I'd never heard Becca sound like that before.
"Oh malen'kiy, my sweet girl."
It was another fifteen minutes before Becca's convulsive sobs eased, each one tearing up out of her guts like she was vomiting razor blades.
"What happened to him?" Becca finally asked.
"Murder, little one. But do not worry, they'll pay, they will all pay for what was taken from us." She pressed something into Becca's palm, closing her fingers around it. Becca looked down and opened her hand.
It was an engagement ring.
She balled her hand around it, banged her fist into her chest, and wailed again. I had a sudden flash of Antoni beating the bloody stump of his wrist into his chest in much the same way.
I don't think I'm ever gonna get those sounds out of my head, no matter how long I live.
"I think you ought to tell them, Becca." I spoke up, eventually. "They deserve to know."
The look on her face said Becca had forgotten all about the little plastic test in her pocket.
Her lips were pressed in a thin white line by her teeth. Becca grabbed Tatiana's hand and laid it over her still flat stomach. There was confusion on the woman's face, then disbelief, then the barest bones of hope.
"I'm pregnant, Mama. Your son is going to be a father."
()()()
The funeral turned to a celebration after that. Becca was plied with food and me with drink. It wasn't entirely my concern for Antoni's family that had led me to push for the announcement of Becca's pregnancy. Carrying Antoni's child meant Becca was untouchable, and as long as I was with her, I was safe.
Or at least, I thought I was.
The vodka was wanting out, so I excused myself quietly to the restroom and went about my business. As I was washing my hands, the door opened, but I didn't bother to look up from the sink. It was a mistake.
My vision exploded in white. My ears were ringing. When the world finally swam back into focus behind the shower of white sparks, I realized I was on the floor of the restroom, and at least half of the room lay beneath a wash of red. I touched my face. It seemed to take hours for me to register that there was blood on my hand. Where the hell had that come from?
Hands bunched in my suit jacket and I was dragged back to my feet. The bathroom mirror was shattered, that was where the blood on my face had come from. Antoni's father was dragging me off the floor. He had removed his suit jacket and button down and was wearing only a white undershirt with his dress pants. I could see the two eight pointed stars and the epaulettes on his shoulders. He held me against the wall with his left hand pressed to my chest, and I nearly lost consciousness completely as my head snapped to the left and slammed into the paper towel dispenser as his right fist slammed into my jaw. It whirred and a length of red spattered brown paper slid out of the mouth of it.
My mouth filled with blood within seconds and I gagged on it, only just managing to turn my head to the side before I spat out a mouthful of ichor and a molar. The man didn't seem to recognize the favor I'd done for him, because his fist sank into my stomach and I lost my breath entirely as I doubled over, only to be dragged upright again.
"That's enough, Antoni," said a voice I didn't recognize. I groaned and blinked my eyes as I tried to clear the blood out of my vision.
"It will never be enough, Vadim."
There was a man standing there, dressed in a rather modest black suit, and Igor stood just behind him, turning the lock on the bathroom door.
"You're sure this is him?" The man spoke to Igor, and he nodded.
"He was there in the restaurant when it happened."
The man hummed, adjusting his suit jacket.
"And what," Vadim spoke to me now. "Chiellini sent you here to gloat?"
I tried to speak, instead I choked as blood came rolling down my throat from my sinuses. My nose was broken. Vadim motioned to Antoni Sr. and the man released me. I stumbled over to the sink and coughed out the blood. I took a ragged gasp and turned the water on, filling my hands and then my mouth. I spat the bloody water into the sink.
"Look, I… I got no part in this. I'm here because I'm Becca's friend, I… I considered Antoni a friend. I mean, Igor, tell him, I used to hang out with youse guys, we used to drink together for Christ's sake."
Igor only stared at me, not saying anything.
"And now you're working for the Italian," Vadim said solemnly. "We have eyes on that street. We know you helped the Butcher put our boys in bags. Do you know who they were? My nephews. Not nameless thugs, not trash, men with a family who do not even now have the privilege of burying their dead."
"I ain't got no choice, man. I got a family, too. I got a sister and grandparents, and God knows what happens to them if I don't do what Jimmy says."
"And where is your family? Hmm? They are elsewhere, and you, you are here now."
Antoni Sr. grabbed me again, flicked open a large pocket knife as he pinned my left hand to the wall by the wrist. Igor stepped around Vadim and covered my mouth with his hand. The blade sliced at the base of my ring finger. I screamed and at the same time tried my best to speak from behind the hand muffling me.
"Maybe I tell him to take a finger, one for each of his sons. Maybe then we will be even. Oh, would you like to say something?"
"Please don't do this." I blurted out, and Vadim scoffed. "Wait! Just fucking wait. It was her, Bianchi. She killed them."
Vadim rolled his eyes. "You're not doing yourself any favors. I know who killed my nephews. I know all about Chiellini and his pet devil."
"But I know where she lives! And I know where she's going to be tonight. I'm taking her up to Sapphire's, just me. She's gonna be alone, and if you want to catch her off guard, tonight's the night."
Vadim hummed again, then tilted his head to Antoni Sr. The man let go of my wrist. He looked disappointed, to say the least. I grabbed for the paper towels, ripped them loose, and wrapped them tight around my bleeding finger. I could see the white of my knuckle underneath the blood.
"What is that address?"
I told him. The address was burned into my mind by this point.
"I'm picking her up at 10 PM. I'll be driving Jimmy's car. Black Lexus."
The three muttered between themselves, but I couldn't understand any of the words.
"Clean yourself up," Vadim said to me. "There is no reason to scare the girl."
I sank down to the floor. The tears came hot and fast and they stung in the cuts on my face. I pulled my knees up to my chest and sobbed, cradling my injured hand against my chest.
"You shouldn't cry like that. It's embarrassing." Came a voice from next to me.
"Fuck you, you dead asshole."
Antoni Jr. gave a wet snort, his elbow balanced on his bent knee where he was seated on the floor beside me.
"No reason to be nasty."
"You been here this whole time? You couldn't have stepped in, given a guy a hand?"
"Fresh out of hands," The corpse replied with a toothless grin.

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Jimmy cooked me breakfast this morning, down in his apartment, and we ate together at the bar while I tried to fathom what the day ahead of me was going to entail. At about 6 AM, a red light started flashing above our heads and an alarm, one I recognized buzzed throughout the restaurant every time there was a delivery at the back door, began blaring.
"They're here early," Jimmy said, and wiped the corners of his mouth with a napkin, tossing it into his plate and standing. He left into the bedroom and returned wearing a quilted dressing gown. Nia emerged in the matching shirt to Jimmy's pajama pants, and together we climbed the stairs back up to the restaurant.
Nia slid onto a table and sat with her legs crisscross applesauce in front of her. The silk button down was so big on her it reached past her knees, and the sleeves swallowed up her hands. She looked like a particularly lethal five year old playing dress up with her father's clothes. She'd balled her hair into a messy chignon at the back of her head, and she smiled sweetly to me as I followed Jimmy into the receiving area to the side of the kitchen. Joey was still laying there at the back door to the alley, but he'd been covered with a white sheet, and the blood had plastered the fabric against what was left of his face.
Jimmy hit a red button on the wall, and the receiving bay door started clumping upwards, panel by panel, until it was rolled up near the ceiling. A white van, no windows of course, backed up the rest of the way into the bay and the back doors opened as Jimmy hit the button again, and clump by clump the bay door closed once more.
A bear of a man crawled out of the back, and Jimmy stepped forward as they wrapped their arms around each other and laughed. Another man crawled from the driver's side, and began pulling equipment from the back of the van. A reciprocating saw, black construction bags, bottles of bleach. There were two 50 gallon drums back there, labeled with the symbols of some kind of corrosive chemical.
"You enjoy the trip to Maine, Teddy?" Jimmy asked.
"Of course. It's always nice to visit new places."
The man's name was Theodore Moretti, he'd introduced himself to me one morning at the bodega. I'd been standing there waiting to buy a pack of cigarettes, and he'd been in deep conversation with Becca about a 'runner'. He'd been asking about someone by name, I didn't know the guy myself, but Becca had been telling Moretti exactly where to find this guy, that he was hiding out at a girlfriend's in Bushwick. Afterwards, he had passed her a thick fold of money and she'd slipped it into the kangaroo pocket of her hoodie, not in the register. Then he'd turned around and told me his name and shook my hand, like I hadn't just seen and heard what had happened right in front of me.
"We got new people in here?" Teddy asked, looking in my direction. I gave him an awkward wave, feeling like a moron.
"Eh, Joey had an early, involuntary retirement." Jimmy replies.
Moretti mumbled something beneath his breath and crossed himself.
"God rest him. He was a good kid. I'm gonna have to drop by and check on his Ma. She's probably taking it pretty hard."
"Not right now, anyway, ain't nobody told her yet. I'm gonna need you to take him down to the funeral parlor when we're done. Tell Goldberg I'll pay for it all, but right now we got bigger issues inside."
The nameless driver passed me the two bottles of bleach, rolled the trash bags up into a neat ball, and set the Sawzall under his arm. We followed Jimmy and Teddy inside.
"What a fucking mess," Teddy said, cheerfully, as we breached the back dining room. The driver set down his burdens on an empty table and I set the bleach bottles beside them.
"Teddy!" Nia squealed, hopping down from the table. She leaped into the man's arms, and he picked her up off the ground and kissed her full on the mouth, and not the kind of kiss your overly friendly Aunt gives you at family reunions. Jimmy barely seemed to notice.
The driver was looking at Nia with a disgusted expression. As I watched, he crossed himself and muttered a prayer underneath his breath. He pulled on a pair of black protective gloves and shook out a garbage bag, crossing the room to pick up the two heads lying there, and tossed them inside with all the gravity of a chain gang member picking up litter. He exited back into the kitchen, and I imagined the heads were going to end up in the steel drums in the back of the van.
"Bentornato, amore mio." Nia says, when Moretti let her up for air and set her back on the ground again.
"Grazie, tesoro."
Moretti made short work of the bodies after that, rigor mortis having mostly let go by that point, breaking them down at the joints and cutting the torsos down into two even, easy to carry pieces. I tried not to gag as I took pieces of bone and flesh, fat and organ with my gloved hands, placed them into the garbage bag, and carried them back into the receiving bay. The driver took them from me and dropped them with a splash into one or the other of the drums. He was wearing a respirator and a pair of safety glasses, and my eyes watered from the acrid smell exiting the van.
After the butchering stopped, the two men carefully picked up Joey's body between them and placed him on the floor in the back of the van. Moretti crossed Joey's arms over his chest, made the sign of the cross on what was left of his forehead with his thumb as he mumbled a prayer, and then covered the body with the sheet again.
They left soon after that, Nia kissing Moretti goodbye, and I was left with the bottles of bleach and a bucket and scrub brush, with the instruction to clean the congealed blood off of the dining room and kitchen floors, and to sterilize the booth and the table so we'd be ready to open tomorrow morning for regular business hours. Jimmy and Nia headed back downstairs. Jimmy left me with his cell phone number in case I needed anything. I was given a sign to hang on the front door, 'Closed For Cleaning,' and I set to work doing just that.
It was a hell of a lot harder cleaning up dried blood than I had ever imagined, and I worked myself into a sweat within minutes, and though the water in the bucket turned a darker and darker red, I seemed to be making no headway on the pool on the floor.
"Jesus fucking Christ, what happened here?"
Fuck, I forgot to lock the front door back.
I looked up and found a police officer standing in front of me, Sargeant Nuzzo from the 61st Precinct. I dropped the brush on the floor and raised my hands in the air reflexively.
Nuzzo released a sound of disgust and waved his hand in front of him.
"You know what, I don't even wanna know. Where's Jimmy?"
I gave the Boss a call, told him he had a visitor, and when the man came upstairs in his dressing gown again, he didn't seem in the least bit surprised to see a cop standing in his restaurant.
"What's the news?" Jimmy asked.
"They got jack shit up in the 1st Precinct. No calls in on the tip lines yet, I mean, it's kind of still early to tell, but it's been a month since the first one and as long as you guys keep it quiet from now on, this is gonna become another unremarkable footnote in the City's history. Trust me, we got a whole fucking warehouse space filled with nothing but cold cases. Give it another few weeks, and nobody will even remember these floaters."
Jimmy handed Nuzzo a wad of cash and sent him on his way with a fresh cup of coffee. I made sure to lock the door after he left, and went back to scrubbing the floor.
About twenty minutes later, I finally started to see the white of the tile through the first blood pool, and I heard a fist banging on the front door. I slipped off the black rubber gloves and headed to the front door.
"We're closed," I said loudly.
"The fuck you are," Becca Rhee barked at me. "I'm fucking freezing to death over there and if Jimmy wants his money laundered properly, you'd damned well better let me inside. I keep double pressing keys cause I'm shakin' so goddamned hard."
She and her father lived in the apartment next door to mine, I'd been too concerned about my own shit to think about the rest of the poor people in the freezing apartment building.
I should have known the bodega was just another spoke in Jimmy's business wheel.
I didn't have the energy to argue and unlocked the door, stepping aside to let Becca through. She had a Brooklyn Nets beanie pulled down over her ears, and she looked like she was wearing at least three layers of clothes under her jacket. She headed back into the second dining room, and tossed a black duffel bag on one of the clean tables. It made sense as she opened the bag, revealing stacks on top of stacks of money, a calculator, and a handwritten account book. There were no windows back here for passerby on the street to see the suspicious circumstances occurring within. She removed her coat and tossed it haphazardly onto another table.
I locked the door back behind me, and returned to the dining room, slipping my black gloves back on and returned to scrubbing the floor.
Becca was nineteen years old. In the bodega, there were old pictures from when she was in high school. She'd been a cheerleader, back then, had even gone to a few national competitions, and that made sense too. She was only about 4'6 and she'd probably made it easy on her teammates when they tossed her into the air with as tiny as she was.
"Go in the back and grab me a bottle of vodka." She reached into her pocket, withdrew a 50 dollar bill, and slammed it down onto the end of the table. I stared at it for a moment before I spoke.
"I can't do that."
"Why not?" She yelled back.
"You're too young."
"Are you fucking kidding me? What are you gonna do, call the cops on me for underage drinking, you fucking mook?"
Well, she kind of had a point, when I thought about it, so I grabbed the money and went and retrieved an unopened bottle of Skyy from the back, and stopped by the fountain machine to grab two glasses.
"You want a chaser?" I asked, turning back to look at her.
The glass fell out of my hand and shattered on the floor. Becca was in the side of the booth facing me, and there, standing just behind her, was a corpse… It was Antoni.
"The fuck is wrong with you?" She screamed at me, and I hurriedly left the room to grab a broom and a dustpan, returning to sweep up the pieces but… Antoni was still there. He raised the stump of his right wrist and jabbed it in my direction, then down at Becca. If he had hands, he'd have been pointing.
She'd grabbed the bottle and a new pair of glasses and had seated herself back at the booth. She took a large gulp of vodka that made my eyes water in sympathy as she hissed in a breath and chased it with a gulp of cola.
I disposed of the broken glass in a nearby trashcan, and within a few minutes she'd counted out several thousand dollars and wrapped them in bank bands. The adding machine whirred and the paper coming from it got longer and longer.
I returned to my place on the floor, put my gloves back on, and started scrubbing at the blood again. I looked up in her direction every few minutes, but Antoni was still standing there, staring at me with no eyes, and dripping a puddle of water on the tiled floor, 'pointing' at me.
"I need another drink. " Becca said to me, and I could hear tears in her voice. I removed the gloves again, and grabbed the glass off her table and went to refill it with cola. As I carried it back to her, I saw that she'd pulled her cell phone out and dialed a number from her contacts. Antoni jabbed his wrist at her again. I felt like a creep for spying on a teenaged girl's personal business, but I looked at her phone screen despite myself.
The contact was simply listed as T, and there was a picture attached to it. Becca was in the picture, wearing a pair of sunglasses. It had been taken at the top of Deno's Wonder Wheel and she'd been kissing the man beside her with her hands cupped around his face. The man had been the one to hold the phone up and take the picture.
The man… was Antoni Zabrowska.
The phone rang and rang, of course the owner wasn't capable of answering his phone anymore, and she eventually jabbed the End button on the phone screen and banged her fist into the table.
"Stupid motherfucker," she hissed and snatched the cola out of my hand as she downed another double shot of vodka.
There was another fierce movement from Antoni's corpse and I cleared my throat.
"You wanna talk about it?" I asked.
"Fuck you," Becca hissed in return, and then turned her phone face down on the table.
"Hey, I'm a good listener, and whatever you say doesn't matter, right? I barely exist."
She scoffed at me, took a sip of her cola and then wiped the tears off of her face like she was embarrassed they were even there. She sat for a moment longer in silence.
"It's stupid… I shouldn't even be worried about it. It's not like I'm the first dumb bitch to believe a line from some asshole that wanted to get his dick wet. He even took me to meet his fucking mother, who does that when they're just gonna turn around and ghost you? He told me he wanted to get married. And now the motherfucker doesn't even have the decency to ignore my calls. He just lets his phone ring, and I know he's home. His bedroom is right underneath mine and I can hear his fucking phone ringing, but he won't even answer the door." Her voice cracks.
The corpse behind her bent, wrapped his arms around her shoulders and pressed his torn lips to her cheek. She gave a massive shudder.
"Jesus Christ, why is it so fucking cold in here?"
I swallow and seat myself in the booth across from her.
"Did you tell Pops, you know, about you and Toni Z?"
She stared at me for a moment, then looked back down at her phone.
"You nosy fuck," she muttered, then, "And fuck no. Pops thinks I met a guy at college. He'd have a fucking calf if he knew I was dating a thirty year old, which I think is pretty fucking hypocritical considering he's dating somebody 348 years older than him."
"Bianchi?" I asked, and she nodded, her eyes narrowed at me.
"Say, how the hell did you get wrapped up in all this?"
"It was uh… kind of an accident."
She laughed and took another sip of her soda.
"Do you know the first time I met Nia Bianchi?" She asked. "I was four years old. My mom was alive back then, and she and my Dad had just opened up Rhee's. We've got fourteen different locations, now, but back then it was the first one. My Mom, she… had some shady contacts up in Koreatown, and they were expecting the store to be a new way to run cash through to clean it, but… my dad didn't do such a good job picking the neighborhood we opened our first store in. Jimmy Chiellini showed up one day, with a fruit basket to go along with his intimidation tactics, and demanded the same tribute he gets off of every business in this neighborhood.
"My Dad told him to fuck off, and for a little while it seemed like things were going to be quiet. Then one day I went outside when the ice cream truck came by, and… I never made it back inside. Somebody snatched me off the street. I took a chunk out of his hand when he grabbed me and stuffed me in the car, and put a bag over my head. They tied my hands and feet, and then they drove a short distance and took me inside somewhere."
She poured another shot and offered me the glass and I took it with muttered thanks. She held the bottle up, and I clicked my glass against it, and she took her next shot from the bottle itself.
"I was sitting there. I couldn't see anything, so I was listening. I was listening hard. I could hear Jimmy speaking off to the side, and a woman's voice. She says, 'I don't like children, Giacomo, they have no taste.'"
Becca let out a bark of laughter.
"And Jimmy goes, 'Jesus Christ, Nia, I didn't bring her here for you to kill her, I just need a place to keep her for a few hours. They're gonna crack fast, nobody needs to hurt the kid. You don't like kids, then just think of her as a tiny adult. Christ, really, just talk to her, play a game, tell her a story. Keep her occupied for a few hours, it's all you gotta do, Princess.'"
She sniffed back tears and turned her phone face up again, flipping to her gallery and opening another picture of Antoni. He looked remarkably… soft in the picture, dressed in a pair of flannel pajama pants and reading a book. He'd looked up and smiled for the camera. Becca ran the pad of her thumb over the image of his face, and took another gulp off the vodka.
"She called Rossi. Demons got no experience when it comes to children. Children are innocent, they got no use for 'em. And that was how I met Rossi, too. He brought me a Happy Meal and we played Monopoly for three hours while we waited for Jimmy to come back and get me."
"Demon?" I asked.
"Diavolessa che ha rapporti sessuali con maschi addormentati. La succuba." She said, in perfectly accented Italian which I have to admit impressed me, because I'd also heard her speaking fluent Korean with her father, Sam.
'A female demon that is thought to have sexual intercourse with sleeping men, a succubus.'
"Rossi knew what she was. Jimmy had met Nia on a trip to Napoli to visit family, and made a deal with her, back in '83, for a steady supply of food in exchange for her services to the Brooklyn Camorra. She's an attorney, you know, a damned good one. She can get anyone out of anything, and she can make anyone dissappear off the face of this earth if she really wants to. And all Jimmy has to do is make sure she gets laid on the regular. Don't be surprised if you end up on the rotation. She can't stay too long with any one man because she'll suck the life out of them, literally."
I held my glass out and she poured me another shot of vodka.
"My parents had to break down, they had to give into Jimmy to get me back, and my Mom… she paid the price for it. There was a drive by one day, and she died in front of me, laying right there in the middle of Avenue U. But before she died, my Mom took Rossi to a lawyer. She forced him into adopting me, and Nia, too. I think Mom knew what was coming, even then, and I think she knew my Appa was going to go off the deep end when she died. And he did. He's been working on suicide by liver failure for the last fifteen years. It's a slow fucking process."
I swallowed the shot and grimaced, looking over Becca's shoulder where Antoni's corpse was still standing. There were two lines of blood leaking out of his empty eye sockets, almost like tears.
"Look, Becca, I know you're mad at Antoni, and I ain't saying you ain't got a right to be but… I knew Toni pretty well. He loved you, he wouldn't have left without saying goodbye if he had a choice… just… keep that in mind, B. He might have some things going on you didn't know about."
I offered her glass back to her. She just stared at me, not saying anything. Antoni bent again, pressed another kiss to her hair, and suddenly he wasn't there anymore. The puddle of water on the floor, however, was.
Becca released a shuddering breath and gave another shiver.
"You gotta turn the heat up in here, this is fucking ridiculous," she said.

JUNE 3 - Brooklyn Music Kitchen177 Vanderbilt Avenue, Brooklyn
ClubDrugs - Chicago Goth-Pop / Darkwave / SynthBad Bloom - NY Shoegaze / alternativeSugar Milk - NYC indie rock / alternative
$10 - 7PM
https://dice.fm/event/nk6l3-sugar-milkbad-bloomclub-drugsnew-yellerjules-a-3rd-jun-brooklyn-music-kitchen-new-york-city-tickets
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https://open.spotify.com/artist/7vrRNsACRMUWrecv4hEmjL
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