Devine's Providence: A Novel Page 24

  “I seem to keep saying it,” said Zachetti, “but I sure hope that’s the last we ever see of those fucking assholes.”

  “Slim says he’s retiring to Boca,” I said.

  “Good. Boca can have him.”

  “Still,” I said, “it was good of him to come through for us in the clutch.”

  “What’s going to happen to Rocco?” asked Chelsea.

  Zachetti eyed me in the rearview mirror as he pulled out into the quiet street.

  “Probably best not to think about that,” I said. “He’s a part of a different justice system now. But you won’t have to worry about him anymore.”

  “I was never worried.”

  “Well that makes you the only one,” I said. “Chelsea, do you have any idea what you put us through this past week? What you put me through?”

  Chelsea sighed.

  “You have to understand something, Harry,” she said. “I didn’t want you getting hurt. I bring nothing but destruction and ruin to everyone that gets close to me.”

  “Didn’t want him getting hurt?” asked Jake snidely. “And how that’d turn out? He’s sitting there with a fucking hole in his side because of you.”

  “Jake, don’t…” I said. “I knew the risk of meeting Rocco. We both did. The important thing is we’re all at least all accounted for now.”

  “Thank you,” said Chelsea.

  “Oh no,” I said to her. “You’re not off the hook yet, sweetheart.”

  She scrunched up her nose and frowned, but I didn’t much care.

  “We’re a team,” I said. “Like it or not, we’re all in this mess together now. I don’t care how much ‘destruction’ and ‘ruin’ you think is your fault. Frankly, all the destruction in the world is worth it if it means being close to you.”

  “Oh brother,” said Zachetti under his breath. We both pretended we didn’t hear him.

  Chelsea stared at her feet. “I wish I could make you understand.”

  We were approaching the main drag of Atwells Avenue now and the traffic slowed to a snail’s pace. The strip was as crowded as ever, with the late night barhoppers filling the sidewalks and most of the street. Different styles of music blasted out from each establishment as we passed, resulting in a cacophony of international sounds all puddling up together in the middle of the road.

  “Not that anyone cares what I fucking think,” said Zachetti, inching the SUV forward as sporadically as the traffic allowed, “but I think we should cut our losses and do the right thing. We have enough proven connections for the FBI to take over from here on out. We do our professional duty and report it, and then move on with our normal lives, with a clear conscience and without constantly looking over our shoulders. This is getting out of hand.”

  “I agree,” I said. “This is it. Time to let fate do her thing.”

  Chelsea crossed her arms.

  “I’m finishing this. You wouldn’t let me do it without you, and now you don’t want to do it with me. So which is it? You just said we were a team, Harry.”

  “I don’t know how much more you want!” I yelled. I coughed, which apparently was the most painful thing I could’ve done, and clutched my sewn-up side. Chelsea touched my arm, but I brushed her off.

  “The only thing we don’t know,” I said as I gritted my teeth through the pain, “is whatever shady thing Temple’s trying to pull off by launching SmartPark. The feds are much more equipped to figure that one out. And what does it matter, anyway? Marc’s dead, Chelsea. If they’re able to nail Temple, what else are you looking for?”

  “I’m looking for justice,” said Chelsea, choking back tears. A realization dawned on me so quickly and sharply it may as well have been carried by another knife. I knew now why she was so eager to finish her mission alone. She was trying to protect us. Her plan was no longer to go to the feds at all—if it ever had been. She was going to confirm who gave the order to kill Marc, and then take things into her own hands. She didn’t want us mixed up in that. Also, she knew we would try to stop her.

  God, what an idiot I am.

  “You don’t want justice,” I said. “You want revenge. That’s a whole different ball of wax, Chelsea. Stop and think about this.”

  “I’ve done nothing but think about this. It’s all I can think about.”

  “Holy shit,” said Zachetti. “You act so high and mighty, talking about justice and doing the right thing, but what you really want is payback? What’s the plan, then? Are you going to kill Temple? Are you going to kill everyone? Because there’s a whole lot of people involved in this, honey. It’s impossible to tell the head from the tail.”

  “Nothing good ever comes from seeking revenge,” I said.

  “I knew you would do this!” she cried out. “I know you’re both too good to get it. But this is something I’m doing. This is something I need to do. You let god-knows-who handle their brand of justice with Teddy Rocco. Let me handle mine with Temple.”

  “That’s entirely different,” I said.

  “Different how? We just left a man tied to a chair, bleeding from the head.”

  “We only hurt him in self-defense, trying to protect you,” said Zachetti.

  I stayed quiet.

  “But you know what’s going to happen to him, don’t you?” Chelsea asked. “He’s not leaving that butcher shop alive.”

  “I think you still don’t get how this city works,” said Zachetti.

  “I know how every city works,” said Chelsea. “Providence is no different from every other cesspool in this country. Time after time after time, I see people getting away with the most heinous of crimes. They go on TV with their smug smiles, they drive their flashy cars, and they do whatever they want. It doesn’t matter to them how many lives they destroy—utterly destroy!—in the process. They suck the souls and the money and the life out of everyone else, and they get away with it! And not only is there nothing anyone can do, but there’s nothing anyone wants to do. Everyone’s so complacent to what’s going on right under their noses. ‘That’s just Providence,’ you all say. Or Baltimore. Or Chicago. Or New Orleans. And nothing ever changes. The rich get richer and smugger and meanwhile people are dying. Well I’m not complacent. Not anymore.”

  Here was yet another side of her I hadn’t seen before. Beneath her collected, determined demeanor, this river of pure anger and frustration had been flowing the entire time. She was very good at keeping it hidden below the surface, only letting it bubble up in rare moments like this. But I could tell it ran so deep that it influenced her every decision.

  I had completely misunderstood her motivations. I had thought that her driving force, like mine, was sadness and regret and a fundamental longing to right wrongs. I was now beginning to realize that instead, it was rage and vengeance.

  She pulled on the latch and moved to open her door and get out of the SUV.

  “Chelsea, wait!” I called after her. Her shoulder slammed into the door, which remained closed.

  “Did you fucking child-lock these doors?” she screamed.

  Zachetti turned around in his seat. Pointing a finger at her. He could be very dad-like when he wanted to be.

  “If you leave again, Harry’s going to go after you again. Then I’ll have to go after Harry. I’m not chasing you all over town anymore. Especially if you’re planning on doing something so fucking stupid.”

  She fell back and punched down on the seat with both fists. She reminded me of a teenage girl getting told she couldn’t stay out past curfew.

  “You’re stupid,” she said.

  Zachetti snorted a laugh, which did not do well to calm her down.

  “I don’t know why you just can’t leave me alone,” she said. “I’m not yours to protect, Harry. I’m not your responsibility.”

  I was getting more and more frustrated with her. It was becoming increasingl
y more difficult to justify to myself why I wouldn’t just leave her alone.

  “Chelsea,” I said, “I care about you. I can’t help it. And you’re making a huge mistake. Let’s just let the proper authorities handle this. Killing Temple or anybody else isn’t going to make you feel better.”

  “The ‘proper authorities’ have been letting me and everyone else down my entire life,” she said. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I got you both into this. I know you care about me, Harry, and I wish you would believe me that I care about you, too. That’s why this is so difficult. But if you do care about me, you need to let me do my own thing.”

  “You’re heading down a dangerous path, Chelsea,” I said. “I’m just trying to save you from making a huge mistake. You’re only going to get yourself killed. Even if you do get your version of justice—you’ll won’t feel any better. Marc’s not coming back.”

  “I know you think saving me will make up for you being unable to save your wife,” she said coolly, “but I’m not yours to save.”

  Being stabbed in my side just a few hours ago was nothing compared to the pain that washed over me in that instant. I felt my blood turn into ice. I closed my eyes and saw only intense red on the back of my eyelids.

  It wasn’t her words specifically that hurt. It was the fact that I had opened up to her. Something I hadn’t done to anyone in a very, very long time. I had trusted her. I had felt connected to her. And she had taken what I had given her, forged it into a weapon, and thrust it straight into my heart. So deliberate, so calculating.

  She was right about one thing. We were all better off never getting close to anyone. It just ends up bad. Always.

  “That was a real shitty thing to say,” said Zachetti quietly. We were at a complete stop in the traffic. “I think it’s best nobody talk for a while. Let’s just get Harry to the hospital.”

  I remained silent. I couldn’t even think of how to possibly respond. I turned away from Chelsea and rested my head on the window, watching the people walk by. Hundreds of people, having a jolly old weekend night. Living it up with dinner, drinks, and dancing. Couples holding hands. Groups of girls in skirts way too short, laughing and taking selfies. A large, familiar scar-faced man with a bulbous, broken nose and a flat cap pulled down low over his eyes…

  I sat up straight.

  “Jake, open the door,” I said, pulling on the handle repeatedly.

  “Jesus Christ,” he said. “What is it with you guys? We’re never going to get anywhere if everyone just keeps storming the fuck off! Just calm down, Harry.”

  “No, Jake, really,” I said frantically. “Open the goddamned door.”

  “Harry,” said Chelsea, “take it easy, your stitches…”

  “Jake!” I shouted, “That’s the guy…the guy who jumped me! Let me out of here!”

  “Oh, fuck,” said Zachetti.

  Chapter 21

  CHASE A CROOKED SHADOW

  There was a click on the door, and I threw it open. The SUV was higher up than I remembered, and I fell straight down into the street. I got up and brushed myself off, holding my side. Cars full of people stuck in the traffic pointed and laughed at me, but I didn’t care.

  I hobbled off to the sidewalk, heading in the direction I saw the thug walking. The pain made it difficult to even clear my vision, let alone walk, but I pushed through it and wove through the crowd.

  As I bumped shoulders with the summer night revelers, all leaving one bar to go to another, a million different conversations faded in and out and melded into one long symphony of words.

  “…oh my God, she’s such a…dude, did you see the look on…fucking pussy…I’m telling you, guy, it was like…what the hell Becky was thinking…nah, bro, you definitely shouldn’t…JOSH! JOSH! HEY JOSH!...you totally should, bro…I shouldn’t have had that last shot…”

  How I wished I was one of these oblivious people, whose only concern was their next drink. Instead, I had to focus on playing Where’s Waldo without collapsing. Luckily, the thug was big, tall, ugly, and easy-to-spot. I soon saw the top of his green cap bobbing over the sea of people.

  I kept my eye on him, but also followed at a distance. I didn’t need him knowing he was being tailed. I looked behind me and saw Zachetti’s SUV screech around a corner and down a side street, going the wrong way down a one way.

  The crowd thinned out a bit as the bottleneck of the sidewalk opened up into DePasquale Square, a spacious brick-laid plaza with a large fountain in the middle. Cafes and restaurants flanked the plaza, all boasting outdoor dining and drink service. During the day, the square had a distinctive old-world feel to it, with first and second generation immigrant locals lazily sipping espresso, or feeding the pigeons, or hotly discussing politics in their native languages over a treat from a nearby bakery. Familiar European arias and folk songs could be heard floating through the air.

  At this time of night though, under the strings of lights stretching across the plaza, the area transformed to decidedly not-as-authentic. An outdoor band blasted out an off-tempo version of that traditional Italian standard, “This Is How We Do It.” People of all walks of life danced in the square, everyone from young college kids living their best life, to middle-aged folks who were lucky enough to snag a babysitter for the night. Mothers out for a ladies night who allowed themselves a third glass of Pinot Grigio, declaring “I’m so bad!” to their friends. And skeevy vultures eager to swoop in as soon as any of them get separated from the group, bearing offers of drinks and dances.

  My mark took a seat at one of the café tables. I stayed toward the middle of the plaza, some distance away. I sat on the edge of the fountain, trying to blend in to the masses as much as possible and still keep him in sight. I watched as he ordered an espresso. He appeared to be waiting for someone. I was grateful, frankly, for the chance to sit and rest.

  Sure enough, he was soon approached by another man. This man had on a dark suit with a bright pink shirt opened halfway down his chest. He wore just enough gold jewelry to obviously be a bad guy.

  Mr. Gold joined Mr. Ugly at his table. They exchanged words without looking at each other. Rather, they were each scanning the crowd, likely making sure they weren’t being watched. I made sure to put my head down or turn away whenever their gaze started coming my way.

  I was studying them, wishing I could read lips, when I felt someone sit down close to me. So close we were touching. I looked over to see Chelsea. She was wearing large sunglasses.

  “Hey stranger,” she said coyly. “Come here often?”

  My heart started to flutter at the sound of her voice, but my head reigned it in right quick. I was in no mood for her cuteness.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked.

  “What? We’re only a team when you want to be? That’s not how it works.”

  “I don’t know how it works. I don’t know how anything works anymore. Goddamn it, Chelsea, you got me all twisted around.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “For everything. You have no idea how sorry I am.”

  All of my thoughts and emotions came bubbling up at once. It wasn’t the time nor the place, but they didn’t seem to know that.

  “I just don’t get it, Chelsea. I mean, why? Why did you sleep with me if you knew you were going to just leave?”

  “I…I didn’t know. Not then. I thought…”

  “Was I just someone to screw? Because I know I’m an idiot, but I don’t open up to a lot of people. It meant a lot to me.”

  “Harry, no, I…”

  “Why did you let me get so close to you if you were just planning to push me away? Were you just using me? And playing Jake and Terry, too?”

  “No, of course not, I tried…”

  “Using all of us to get the information you needed to get at Temple? Did you plan the whole time on just jetting on us when you got what you wanted? Because that’s r
eally fucked up, Chelsea.”

  She stopped trying to defend herself. I had been talking faster and faster, cutting her off her replies. Partly because I couldn’t control how everything wanted to come out at once, and partly because I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear her answers.

  “Harry,” she said finally, speaking slowly to make sure I wasn’t going to interrupt her again. “I’m not as coldhearted and manipulative as you think I am. Initially I didn’t want to get close to you because I usually never allow myself to get close to anyone. I didn’t want to open myself up to inevitable heartache. But with you, I couldn’t help it. The night we were together was incredible. But it got me thinking as to what I was doing…what we were doing. And what I really wanted. It was then that I realized that it could only end badly. That eventually, I would want retribution for Marc’s death. Retribution that our justice system cannot provide. And you are simply too good a person to get involved with any of that. It would ruin your life. I couldn’t be responsible for that.”

  “I was stupid,” I said. “I thought we could have had something.”

  “We could have…we did. And maybe, when this is all over…” Her voice trailed off. She had said “when,” but we both knew it was actually a very big “if.” If this ever ended. If neither one of us got killed first. If that river of rage that coursed through her ever subsided enough to let her be happy again.

  “Just be honest with me,” I said. “Do you regret any of it? With me, I mean?”

  “Of course not. Harrison Devine, I am so lucky to have even met you. I adore you. It’s me…I promise.”

  I shook my head and looked away, and almost made eye contact with the thug across the plaza. He appeared to be looking right at us.

  “Shit,” I said. “Quick, kiss me.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “He’s looking this way,” I said. I leaned in and planted my mouth on hers. Although it was for show, neither one of us held back. I was trying—we were trying—to recapture the feelings of our night together. It was different though. It wasn’t full of passion or desire, it just was.