A black Navigator flies around the corner, stopping just in front of Kieran. Running his hands through his hair, he finally looks away and gets in, the tires of the car screeching before pulling off.
Pops and crackles sound from the salon, and the man on the ground groans, holding his arm. His face all bloody. It’s the husband of the salon owner, I’ve seen him there before when Mom had a hair appointment.
“Damn it, Leona!” my mother calls for me again. Taking a step back, I slowly descend toward the limo. The guy rolls over onto his stomach and begins to wail when he realizes his business is in flames and ash.
“This is your fault!” He points at me, and my mouth parts, the piercing sound of a fire truck nearby echoes in my ears. My dad left the protection of the east side in my hands but I was just a kid, I don’t want anything to do with the mafia business. The ranks, the so-called power that comes with inflicting fear and terror into dozens of our own family and friends. It’s a seed that blossoms into a darkness you can’t escape from. I slip into the car and slam the door shut. Guilt ripping at my insides, my hand still on the door handle, I feel dazed and confused. It’s like we’re the bad guys no matter what we do.
“GO!” my mother orders the driver before snapping her eyes toward me. “What were you thinking?”
Glancing down at my feet, now black from ash, I don’t know what to say. For the first time in my life I’m at a loss for words.
What possessed me to get out of the car? I’m losing my damn mind.
Closing my eyes, I can still see Kieran’s villainous eyes like a bad memory seared in my brain, the way he glared at me as if he could see right through me causes my heart to beat a little faster all over again. But not from fear, but of excitement.
God, he looked so hard and monstrous. It makes me wonder if he has a kind bone in his body at all. I look to the window just as the fire truck passes us.
“You know who that was, don’t you?”
I close my eyes and nod.
I know who he is, and he knows who I am.
Ever since we were kids, our family put us against each other.
We’re enemies.
Rivals.
Which is why we stay away from one another.
Until tonight.Arriving at our mansion, I open my car door before the driver has a chance to even get out. Shoes in my hand, my mother follows me up the steps into our palace of luxury, yelling about my reckless behavior. Inside the foyer my grandmother comes around the corner, her golden cane helping her walk. Her tan skin is more wrinkled than the day before, her dress loose and reminding me of something someone from Hawaii would wear.
“What happened? What’s going on?” she asks, her gray eyebrows lifting with concern as she looks from me to my mother.
“Your granddaughter tried to be a hero and stepped out of the car when a couple of thugs were going at it in front of Tina’s Salon,” my mother clips, taking her earrings off as she explains to my grandmother what happened. But she missed a very important detail.
“That thug was Kieran DeAngelo,” I inform her, and her eyes widen just as my grandmother’s mouth drops open. My grandma wants me to take my place and do something to the DeAngelos, to set them straight on whose territory they’re edging on. But my mother is afraid and wants nothing to do with the legacy my father left us. I say just wait, dad will be back.
“What did he say, did he hurt you?” Grandma steps closer, her cane clanking against the marble flooring.
Switching my shoes to my other hand, I glance down. “He didn’t say anything,” I mutter, remembering his eyes, and how he looked possessed. It was like a demon resided inside of the most handsome man in the city. I was bewitched and couldn’t look away.
“Did he recognize you?” my mother asks, both of her earrings in her hand now. Panic lacing her voice.
Raising my eyes to her, I shrug. “I don’t know.”
But he did. The way he looked at me, I can tell he knew exactly who I was.
His family has warned ours for years to stay on our side, and to keep out of their way. When my father was here, we were at war with the DeAngelos constantly. There was never a time when we were in the same room that someone was not trying to kill the other. Some say that my dad didn’t run from the DeAngelos but was taken by them; killed.
My heart beating faster out of fear, rather than excitement at the thought of my father being dead, I head for the stairs to head to my room. I’ve had enough for one night.