IT HAD TAKEN VINNIE A FEW TRIES, but before he took the mirror to Matilda, he’d managed to convince her cousin Fernando to meet with him privately. Fernando was suspicious at first and Vinnie quickly realized the source of all the wariness, the secrecy and protectiveness around Matilda: fear of deportation. Vinnie slowly pulled the story from Fernando—the wedding, the ride in the fancy car, the emergency room, the hastily called meeting in an attorney’s office only days later, the rush to sign papers and take the check, the refusal to fight Leo Plumb in court or insist on an insurance claim. The family wanted to avoid a police report because a police report would mean that Matilda’s parents—and Fernando’s mother who was also illegal, not to mention most of the rest of their extended family—would come to the attention of the immigration authorities, as George Plumb had repeatedly threatened, according to Fernando. Vinnie tried to understand exactly what kind of agreement Matilda had signed (in the hospital, hopped up on morphine; it was ridiculous, a travesty). He finally convinced Fernando that a conversation with Leo Plumb was not going to incite legal action. “I just want to have a friendly chat with him,” Vinnie said.
Fernando had burst out laughing. “You understand why that doesn’t sound entirely plausible to me?” Fernando had almost punched Vinnie the day he’d yelled at Matilda in the pizza parlor; he didn’t trust the guy.
“I swear to you,” Vinnie said. “On my mother’s grave. I wouldn’t do anything to hurt Matilda. You have to believe me. I would never, ever bring harm to Matilda.”
Fernando did believe that part because Vinnie was clearly head over heels. And Fernando also felt a not-insignificant amount of guilt about the weeks following the accident. He had panicked; they all had. He’d been blinded by the sum of money the Plumbs were offering as much as anyone and was ashamed to think of how Matilda had helped him pay off some of his law school loans. He’d been so relieved, he’d barely protested.
“Okay,” he finally said to Vinnie. “But you have to tell Matilda what you’re planning and she has to agree. Promise me you will tread carefully.”
“You have my word,” Vinnie said. He wasn’t scared of anyone, and the mysterious Leo Plumb sure didn’t intimidate him. He respected Fernando’s hesitation, but he knew without ever having to meet him what kind of a person Leo Plumb was: He was a fucking coward.
Matilda was so full of shame about the night of the accident she couldn’t see clearly, but Vinnie could. What kind of person leaves his wife at a wedding and lures a young girl out to his car with a lie? What kind of person doesn’t even think twice about driving given his blood alcohol and drug levels? What kind of person doesn’t fucking apologize and check on the girl who, because of his spectacular hard-on, no longer has a foot? A coward, that’s who. And here was another thing Vinnie knew about cowards: They were easy to break.
Vinnie had a plan. He was going to request a meeting with Leo Plumb and make it clear they weren’t after money, because they weren’t. Vinnie wanted access. He’d done his research and he knew Leo had traveled in the right circles. Leo could put Matilda in touch with the right people and help her with any number of programs where she would get assistance with her prosthetics, including further surgery if necessary. He wanted Leo to pull some strings, and he wasn’t going to give him a choice. He was going to make it clear that he wasn’t afraid to expose him for the coward he was. He’d put on his uniform, stand with Matilda at his side, and humiliate Leo Plumb until he buckled. Leo could come after him and Vinnie would welcome that fight, but he’d never have to engage. Because the other thing he knew about cowards? They were most afraid of being unmasked. This was going to be easy.
“NO,” MATILDA SAID. “Absolutely not.” She’d let the mirror fall to the floor, and she was furiously hopping across the kitchen. “I’m not going to talk about this.”
“We’re going to talk about it.” Vinnie stood firm.
“Get out of here. Please. Thank you for the pizza, the mirror. I’m tired and I want—”
“This—” Vinnie said, pointing to Matilda’s stump, “is bullshit.”
Matilda had her back to him, holding on to the kitchen sink. “Why are you yelling?” she said, turning to him. “Why are you always fighting? Always mad at everyone and everything.”
“Why aren’t you?” In the harsh light of Matilda’s kitchen, Vinnie’s left hand was clenching and unclenching. “Why aren’t you fucking pissed off?”
“Because it doesn’t do any good.”
“I disagree.”
“Maybe you need to tell your brain a new story. Go ahead, use the mirror. Take a look at your face and see how ugly it is when you’re mad.”
He took a deep breath and then he slammed his palm against the refrigerator next to her. She flinched. “Why aren’t you mad enough to ask for what you deserve?” he said.
She sat down heavily on one of the kitchen chairs, her face drawn and bleak. She looked like she might cry; Vinnie had never seen her cry. Matilda couldn’t even look at Vinnie. She’d tried so many times to will herself back into that pantry, back into the before, when Leo was waltzing her to the music. If only she could do it all over again, disengage, walk away from Leo and back to Fernando in the kitchen and pick up her squeeze bottle of vinaigrette. She looked up, somber. “I can’t ask for more because I did get what I deserved,” she said. “I got exactly what I deserved.”
CHAPTER TWENTY–THREE
Nathan Chowdhury had been livid when Leo wanted to sell SpeakEasyMedia.