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It was almost exactly as it had been the last time I’d been inside. A big, wide, sturdy antique desk that had been handed down to him. On top, was a desk calendar that he hadn’t bothered to turn to the current month. There was a wooden cup with pens inside, a random, forgotten old credit card that he probably meant to shred when he activated the new one.
Behind the desk was a long cabinet where he had the new printer I’d bought, a shredder, and a pile of old mail beside said shredder.
The chair between the desk and cabinet was an old leather one with a reddish hint to the material. That color was the basis of the theme I had planned for this room. A design I was now worried I was never going to get to see completed. To give that to him.
I was going to find this paperwork, then I was going to need to run. Never, ever to see Emilio again.
I wasn’t exactly sure what kind of punishment his Family would have for me, but surely there would need to be something.
And I would deserve it.
Even if I was saying a prayer that it wouldn’t be Emilio himself who did the punishing. I wasn’t sure my heart could take that. The heart that was, slowly but surely, starting to belong to that man.
Blinking back the stupid, useless tears, I sat down in his chair, smelling a hint of him there, and starting my search from the top drawers, down. This time, thumbing through all of the papers there, then checking the drawers themselves for false backs or bottoms. It was a multi-generational mafia desk, after all.
I was almost disappointed not to find a hidden compartment until I got to the last drawer, one that was way too short for the size of the desk. It took me a long moment to find the spot that would release the door. But then there it was, a spot in the corner, a soft click that had it opening.
I had to get down on my hands and knees with my phone’s flashlight to see inside.
All I saw was another smaller box.
It was too small to be what Renzo was looking for, and I was the worst kind of snoop to reach for it, to look inside.
And there it was.
An antique pocket watch.
With a little inscription on the back
The only thing you can’t get back. Use it wisely.
A monster.
An absolute monster, that was what I was.
Digging around a man’s personal effects.
I put the watch back into the box, the box into the compartment, closed the door, and slid the drawer shut.
Taking a deep breath, I turned toward the cabinet instead.
Inside, were several smaller cardboard boxes that clearly hadn’t been touched since the move.
Office supplies, maybe?
None of them were labeled.
They weren’t taped shut, either, just folded in on themselves.
I took them out, one by one, finding not old paperwork, but boxes that must have been given to him by his mother.
Inside were old family pictures, and I got to see baby Emilio, all gummy grins and fat rolls. Ones from elementary school, gap-toothed and in various sports uniforms. Middle school, where he clearly started to develop that boyish smirk, that cocky sort of confidence. There were even a few as a younger adult. Pictures taken at family holidays. There he was near the Christmas tree in a suit, holding up a big, silly belt buckle he’d gotten as a present. Likely a gag gift. One he’d run with after that. Then he was at the dining table between two beautiful women. Likely his sisters.
Another box had old trophies from those various sports he’d been in. And it didn’t escape me that there seemed to be a new sport each season or year. He’d never stuck with any of them, though the evidence of the trophies said he did well at most.
He had a Boy Scout sash with just a couple of badges. An old green karate belt. Even a collection of random guitar picks.
The third box was even more random.
A couple of old wallets, licenses and credit cards still nestled inside. A random collection of keys. Some watches. Random shit from an apartment when he was younger, perhaps, that he never got around to going through.
I was careful putting everything back, actually lining them up with the dust line in the cabinets while making a mental note to wipe everything down sometime.
The other side of the cabinet was where I found it.
A briefcase.
Well, not a normal briefcase. This one was big and bulky with a yellow reflective strip around it.
So maybe Emilio wasn’t so far removed from the rest of us. He had a fireproof briefcase.
Though, unlike mine, his did lock.
I was just considering if there was a way to pick it, when I heard the front door close.
