theresa
hen Daniel and I had moved in together, he rented out his tiny condo a block from City Hall. Once the tenant’s lease was up, he returned to it. The proximity to the civic center made campaigning easier. He needed security, and he needed a place that was easy to care for. Antonio held the building’s brass-and-glass front door open for me. Zo came in after me.
“You sure you don’t want to wait in the car?” Zo asked.
“We’re going in together,” I replied “You don’t need to watch me.”
The lobby was a stark study in white and wood. Everything was in its place, but nothing was exactly right. I didn’t know what I had been prepared for. Nothing and everything. I was prepared to see his wife, alive and beautiful, a cinderblock wall shaped like a supple woman between Antonio and me. I didn’t want to meet her and I didn’t want to save her, but she was important to him, even if he wouldn’t admit it, and I didn’t know how he’d bear losing her again because of his actions. He carried things around. He held grudges and pain. I walked into Daniel’s building for Antonio, for his health, for his peace of mind. Because I loved him, and it wasn’t about me.
That aside, it was too quiet. The security detail I’d promised to get Antonio through was absent.
Zo lumbered behind me like a loyal puppy while Antonio moved like a cat, as if he was only checking territory he already owned. The front desk wasn’t manned, so all my talk of getting Antonio past it was for nothing. I stopped him with a tsst sound. He turned, eyes everywhere, and I indicated the closed circuit monitors behind the security desk.
They were off.
He nodded slightly, paused.
“I know what you’re thinking, and forget it.” I moved my lips but no more sound came out. Live together. Die together.
His eyes lingered on my mouth. I didn’t know if he understood me, but my thoughts went dirty, and a weight of wetness dropped from my spine to the space between my legs.
“Let’s go,” I said and went toward the elevator. “We have a nice Italian woman to rescue.”
I didn’t have the key to Daniel’s place, but as we walked down the soft white hall upstairs, I saw a keypad outside his door. Zo checked his watch. Antonio touched his jacket under the arm, where his gun sat in its leather holster.
It was up to me. I didn’t know how many digits, and Daniel didn’t have a commonly used password for the daily business of getting into the easy stuff.
I put in his birthday.
Red light.
His childhood address in City Terrace.
Red light.
His social security number.
Red light.
His phone number.
Red light.
His mother’s phone number.
Red light.
His phone number backward.
Red light.
“Contessa,” Antonio said, “let me shoot it.”
I held up my hand. If we wanted to get in and out, we had to make as little mess as possible, and I wanted to prove my worth. Had to prove he’d brought me here as more than a burden, and I factored into the situation as more than a dead weight with a murderous streak.
I put in my birthday, just to keep my fingers moving.
Green light.
“Excellent,” Antonio said, pushing the door open. “What was it?”
I didn’t answer. I didn’t want to lie, but I didn’t want Antonio to get distracted by the fact that my birthday was the code to Daniel’s loft.
Zo pulled out his gun and held it up. Antonio reached into his jacket. I still had the hunk of metal in my waistband, and it was staying there. If this went down the tubes, I didn’t want to kill anyone else.
Antonio put his other hand on the knob. “You ready?” His voice was couched in a tenderness I sometimes forgot he was capable of.
“I’m fine, Capo. Let’s just get her and go.”