“Yes, I’m fine. I’m just sad that you are leaving,” she says, bringing me in for an embrace.
“I told you, I’ll come back home in a couple weeks, and you are always welcome to visit. The city isn’t that far,” I remind her.
“Yea, Lana, seriously, you are always welcome,” Nessa says, backing me up.
Lana takes a deep breath and shifts her attention to Nessa. “Thank you, Vanessa, I appreciate that. Ok, you girls all set?”
I’m about to say yes when Nessa reminds me of the box of books upstairs that I just told her moments before that we still needed to get. Before I could say anything, Nessa and Lana head back inside the house to grab the box of books together, leaving me to get one good look at the house before we head down to the city.
Mama always took such pride in housekeeping, and she kept the exterior just as pristine as she did the inside of the house. I definitely do not uphold the same standards, but I think I’ve done a pretty good job at honoring the home that I have spent my entire life in, up until this moment.
I glance over at what once was Leo’s house and I can’t say the same. With the chipped porch paint and weathered shutters, it stands out like a sore thumb amongst the rest of the pristine homes on the block.
A moment later, I hear Lana and Nessa laughing, struggling to get my box of books through the front door.
“Jesus Christ, Sienna!” Nessa shouts. “Are you planning on leaving the apartment anytime with all these books you have?” she teases.
I run over to Nessa’s car to open the passenger door and slide the seat forward to fit the box in the back.
“Here you go, bookworm,” Nessa says as she and Lana lug the box in the back seat.
“Very funny,” I say back to her, laughing at how ridiculous of a sight it was to see them struggling with the number of books I have packed.
“All I’m saying is, tonight, you better be ready to let loose a little bit. We have a move and a new job to celebrate.” Nessa claps in excitement.
She turns to Titi Lana and gives her a hug goodbye before reaching for her ringing cell phone clipped to her work belt. She answers quickly and heads to the car, waiting for me to say goodbye to Lana.
“Well, this is it,” I say, feeling those damn tears I had streaming down my face from earlier in my room start to surface again.
Lana smiles warmly at me and lifts her smooth, manicured hand to my cheek.
“Your parents would be so proud of you, for following your dreams and going for it in the Big Apple,” she says as I raise my hand to meet hers that still rests on my cheek.
“I hope so,” I say, unsure if they would really love the idea of me heading to the city that they sadly died in, let alone on the eve of the anniversary of their passing.
“I know so,” she declares with confidence. “Just do me a favor, please be careful.”
“I will, Titi. I’ll call you when we get to the city,” I promise her as we go in for one more hug before I meet Nessa in her car.
Lana remains in the driveway for a moment more and waves goodbye as I buckle up. Nessa hangs up the phone as she throws the car in reverse. She begins to back out of the driveway as she excitedly goes on about what she has planned for us tonight once we get to the city. I am half-listening as we pass Leo’s old house, where Miranda stands, still staring. Except this time as we pass by, she is making a peculiar motion with her hands. I turn my head to look back at her to and it is then I notice she is doing the sign of the cross with a sinister grin smeared all over her face.
What the actual fuck?
Chapter10
Carmine
As much as becoming involved in Marked Inc. was something I never wanted, I am appreciative of the perks that come with now being its CEO. The main one being how lucrative the underground drug trade is. It’s what gave me the funds to purchase the business venture I am the most passionate about: The Sandy Claws. My home away from home.
The Sandy Claws is a misfit’s Heaven or Hell, depending how you look at it, with its gothic appeal and its dark opulence. I’ve worked hard to create an atmosphere where people can feel like they can let loose—inhibitions and morals alike.
At one time, it stood as a Catholic church; though, when the congregation didn’t donate enough to run it or fill the priests’ pockets, they abandoned ship.Shocking. Churches are no different than the businesses I run. While they may pretend to be holy, their end goal is monetary, manipulating the truth however they can so that seats are full, and pockets are fuller. Only difference between them and me is that I have no interest in pretending to be holy. Being unholy is far more fun.
I light another cigarette as I continue to saunter my way over to The Sandy Claws. Alex hates meeting me there. He says that it’s risky, as he may run into repeat offenders, since our patrons aren’t always society’s finest. Not to say that those who break the law are scum, because that would make me the world’s biggest hypocrite. It’s just that The Sandy Claws has always been a refuge for those who feel like victims of the world’s righteous standards.
I like to remind Alex that when he is in my company, he is safer than with the gun he keeps holstered to his side. That is the perk of being the owner. No one dares try me on my turf. As much as Alex likes to pretend that he is above the discretions I commit daily, he is right there with me, co-signing all my devious moves. Cop or not, his loyalty is to me. And it runs much deeper than his allegiance to the badge he wears around his neck.
As I continue to walk, I see an unusual amount of people flooding the streets. Granted, this is New York City, a notoriously crowded, bustling metropolis. Still, most of the people that roam these streets are in a rush, uninterested in hanging around or fraternizing.
