Page 58 of Capo

I stop. Christian’s somewhere, in bad shape from what it sounded like. Nathan on his way to wherever that is. Luca will come when I call, he always wants in on action, but he’s useless and will get himself shot before he is of any use, and Angela, youngest of the Russos, has no training whatsoever. She also hates my guts and would never set foot in San Francisco. My heart sinks. Everything is on me. As always.

“Go fetch Matteo, then. And I’ll expect Luca here in three hours. Fix it. He’s got two fucking hands and he can shoot.”

Eric frowns. “You’ll get him killed.”

“I don’t fucking care!” I roar. “Gather everyone here. Every man we’ve got.”

Ivan straightens and Eric stands. “Yes, Boss.”

“Get to it. Update me on everything. We strike tonight.” I stalk out of the room, and I don’t even think about where my feet take me until I stand before the closed and locked door that hides Chloe.

She’s sitting on the bed and jumps out of it immediately as I enter, surprise on her face turning to concern.

“What’s wrong?” she asks as she grabs the hem of her shirt.

I wave for her to stop. “Everything. I just… I need one fucking moment of not everything being a disaster.”

“Do you… do you want me to get you off?”

That hadn’t even entered my mind. “Just sit,” I say and move toward her. Her gaze is trained on me, following my every move as I sit down next to her on the edge of the bed and then bury my head in her lap. I want her hands on me. I just want a fucking caress, but she sits stiff and unmoving. I close my eyes and wonder how much I’ve hurt her. I wonder what she’s thinking when she sees me. My mind is scattered between Christian, my business, the Russians, Chloe and my threats to her brothers, and the realization that I have no one. There is absolutely no one who really cares about me, who wants me in their life.

I stand. I don’t say anything. I don’t know what to say. I wanted her to come to me. I truly thought it would have happened a long time ago. Why doesn’t she want me? I know I give her physical pleasure. She comes so fucking hard on my fingers. She gets wet just looking at me, our bodies so tuned to each other, but it’s like she isn’t with me. She, the woman I see at breakfast, with David, the intelligent mysterious forger, compassionate child whisperer, and accountant. In bed she pulls back, disappears, and all she does is obey.

My house fills up with people, hard men armed to the teeth. My office has turned into Communication Central.

Nathan calls, the connection weak. He’s found Christian in rural Canada, barely hanging onto life, speaking incoherently about Kerry and the little one, their daughter Cecilia. I’m not sure what to make of it.

It’s Sunday. Ten a.m. I can’t get my head straight. It feels as if the whole world comes crashing down on me. I need peace of mind if I’m gonna be able to handle today, so I do the only thing I can think of. I drop everything, tell Eric I’ll be back in the afternoon, and go to mass.

St. Patrick’s church is filled to the last seat, as always on Sundays. I sit in the congregation, kneel, put my hands together in prayer, listen to the ceremony in Latin, take communion, try to feel the connection with the faith I was born into, try to grasp the age-old magic. My phone buzzes in my pocket repeatedly. I don’t let even World War Three bother me when I try to make amends with the powers that be and I turn it off as I steer my steps to the confession booth.

Falling on my knees, I cross myself. “In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. My last confession was three years ago.” My voice doesn’t sound like my own. It is raspy, hollow, lifeless.

Like my soul. What’s there to save?

I’m a fucking fraud. I’m a shell of a man. No one knows me. I’ve never let anyone in. No, that’s not true. There’s one woman, one I got close to once, when I was young. Before I turned against her, stomped on her words of love, and made her keeper of my whores.

Elena.

The priest asks me if I want to repent.

Maybe I do. But not to him.

I feel lighter when I step out of church, but not because I felt God. There’s a new clarity in me.

My driver is waiting where I left him. I skim the messages. They’ve located the fuckers in a house in a rundown suburban hellhole on the outskirts of town and are heading out prematurely. The plans were for tonight, but I rarely engage hands-on in the wet work these days and Ivan and Eric can handle this for a couple of hours. I tap a quick message back to keep me updated.

“Dust, take me to the whorehouse,” I say. “Call Elena and tell her to meet me.” I close the window between us and lean back. I finally know what I want. I just don’t know how to fix it.

It’s mid-day. The house is quiet. There’s probably not a lot of business going on at this hour and most of the girls are sleeping. Elena sits in one of the smaller common rooms, a cup of tea in front of her. I pull off my suit jacket and drape it over the back of a chair before I sit down in front of her.

“Luci. What can I do for you?”

“Teach me to pleasure a woman.”

Elena, the master of poker faces, still has a brief flash of surprise crossing her features before she rearranges her face back to her usual serene, motherly expression. She folds her hands in her lap, interlacing her fingers as if to pray. “What do you want to know? You know how to get a woman off.”

I wave impatiently. “Of course I do. I just… how do I give? Without taking, I mean. How do I know I’m really giving her a good time?” My neck feels hot and the collar of my shirt suddenly seems too tight.

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