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“Hey,” I say softly as I smile at him from the doorway. “Do you mind some company?” He looks up at me with suspicion. I know what it feels like to want to be left alone but also want someone to comfort you. And I also know how hard it is to put that request into words. So, I try to make it easy for the boy. “I was just feeling a little upset about what happened, and I could use a little company if you don’t mind.” He nods and I walk into the room, sitting down on the bed beside him, making sure I don’t get too close since I don’t want to seem pushy.
The two of us just sit there in silence for a few minutes, and then he says out of nowhere, “This is how my mom died,” catching me completely off-guard.
“What?”
“My mom was shot too. Except her clothes weren’t as cool as yours and they didn’t stop the bullet.”
My heart softens as I realize what he’s telling me. Now Vari’s overreaction starts to make sense. “I’m really sorry to hear that,” I say to the boy, not knowing what else to express that will give him any comfort. I look around his room and see his nameplate hanging over his desk—Lucas. I studied languages during my senior year. I’ve always found them fascinating, and figured that knowing the roots of various languages in my acting career might be beneficial.
“You have a very special name,” I say to him. “Did your mother give you that name?” Lucas nods. “It means ‘bringer of light,’” I smile. “That means you have the ability to make sad people happy.”
“Do you think I can make bad people good too?” he asks. My heart breaks in two as I listen to his sweet voice ask such a heavy question.
“Do you mean like the person who shot your mom?” I say as a guess. “Or the person who put a bullet in the gun at rehearsal today? I’m not sure anyone can make people like that see the light, Lucas.”
“I wasn’t talking about those kinds of people,” he says. His voice is timid now, as if he’s afraid that asking me about what comes next will get him into trouble. “I meant people like my dad.”
Now that’s an even heavier question.
8
VARI
“What do you mean you weren’t able to get me any answers?” I snarl at both of my brothers when they arrive. I’m still feeling just as furious as I was back at the theatre.
“There aren’t any tangible ties between Hector and the Irish Mob,” Alessio answers. “At least not anymore.”
“There has to be.” I get up and pace the perimeter of my office. None of the mafia bosses claim to have had anything to do with this, but loaded guns don’t just appear out of nowhere. Someone’s trying to either hit a target or keep the show from being performed, apparently by trying to violently kill off its lead actors. And if I was to guess who’d stand the most to gain from that, it’d be the very same mafia bosses that don’t want things about the criminal underworld exposed to the public eye.
“I’m living up to my end of the bargain,” I tell my brothers. “I told the othercaposI’d make certain the play wouldn’t get too close to the inner workings of the mafia, but obviously they don’t trust that I’ll handle it and are taking matters into their own hands.”
“We can’t be sure it’s them,” Petre says. “How do we know it’s not the Irish Mob?”
“The Irish Mob has nothing to gain by destroying the show or attempting to murder the actors. If anything, they’d benefit more from the play being a huge success. It has to be another family.” Neither of my brothers have anything to add to that assumption. It makes the most sense out of anything. “Petre, I want you to tail Brutus and see if you can dig anything up. Alessio, I want enhanced security of the playhouse. Put our best men on it.”
“Wait a second,” Alessio interrupts in disbelief. “Are you saying you’re still going to allow rehearsals to go on? Vari, why would you keep this going when it’s bringing nothing but trouble?”
I’m still not prepared to tell either of my brothers the real reason why I’m not willing to shut down the production, but I can easily come up with another suitable response, one they can both respect. “I won’t be intimidated by Brutus or any othercapowho might be behind this,” I say firmly. “I said I was going to handle it, and that’s exactly what I intend to do. Canceling it now, after what happened today, would make it seem as if that threat today worked. I won’t feed into that. I’m going to do exactly what I said I was going to do. I’m going to keep tight control over that production and see it through to completion.”
My elaborate response silences both Alessio and Petre, and each of them heads off to do what I’ve instructed. As soon as I have that dealt with, my attention goes back to Dahlia. She’s just coming down the staircase when I turn around and see her there. “Your son is upset,” she says with a disapproving frown.
“Lucas is tough. I’ll go speak with him shortly. As for you, until the show is over, you’re to stay here in my apartment with me, and I’ll act as your bodyguard.”
“You’ve got to be kidding,” she says with a nervous laugh that agitates me immensely. I work hard to temper my patience before responding so that she doesn’t see an emotional reaction. “You can’t force me to stay here with you, Vari,” she says as she starts to throw an infuriated fit over the idea. “I’m not a child nor your property. You lost the right to even think about telling me what to do when you dumped me years ago.”
I realize that she isn’t wrong, but I don’t have the time or the patience to get into this argument with her right now. At the moment, everything hinges on decisive action. “Fine,” I say. “You’re right. You’re free to leave as you please. But I’m also free to do as I please.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Dahlia huffs. “Don’t you always do as you please anyways? Isn’t that part of being an all-powerful cockycapo?”
I ignore her not-so-subtle insult. “It means that you can go ahead and refuse my directive if you want. But if you don’t comply, I’ll cancel the show completely and ruin your big shot as a Broadway actress.”
Dahlia’s face looks like she’s about to blow. Little does she know that the only reason the play is even still going on is because of me. I’m not her enemy here. “How dare you?” she screams at me. “Why the hell do you even care so much about keeping me safe, huh? I’m sorry for the loss of your wife, but you can’t just stroll back into my life and try to take control over me. I have my own life now, and you made your choice not to be a part of it anymore when you broke my heart and left.”
I want to tell Dahlia the truth, but I can’t. It would open up too many past wounds and make us both more vulnerable. And right now, with something lurking nefariously in the shadows, it’s a very bad time to be vulnerable. “The choice is yours,” I say, not budging from my ultimatum.
“Ugh! What kind of choice is that?” she yells before storming off and sequestering herself inside the first room with an open door she can find. It just so happens to be my bedroom, which means I’ll be sleeping on the couch tonight.
When I turn around after the commotion of dark hair and emerald-green eyes that swept up into my bedroom like a hurricane, I see Lucas standing there behind me. “Hi, buddy,” I say as I bend down to talk with him. I should’ve talked with him before now. I expect too much from such a small child and I need to frequently remind myself that he’s not a little man, just a kid. “You were very brave today. How you holding up?”
