Page 51 of The Queen's Denial

“I was just lying in the bed and looking out the window thinking… who lived here before you bought it? I figured you probably got it for all cash, and it’s in this quiet, sleepy neighborhood on the outskirts of the suburbs. Just barely a part of it all. And like… who were the people who wanted to live here? What kind of life would they have had?”

He has a curious smile on his face when he turns it toward me again. “If you want to know, I can tell you. It was an old lady who had lost her husband. This house was sitting on the market for almost a year when I sent someone to look at it, but it was a terrible deal, which is why it wasn’t selling. The old lady wouldn’t budge on the price, though. So, we were about to move on a different house when suddenly the price dropped. I found out that she had died and the daughter had cut the price down to get rid of it.”

I snort, shaking my head and rolling my eyes. “And here I was, thinking it was some sweet family who truly loved each other, out in the country, ignorant to the woes of the world.” I say in mock wistfulness.

Andy stops and picks up a few tiny onion-looking things, along with a few peppers and the spinach leaves. “Well, yeah, it sounded that way. The daughter was so sad that she barely spoke when we met for the closing, and when we undercut her by $30k, she just went along with it. She left everything. Look — the sewing machine and table are in the corner there. She cried when she told me she only needed one day to get all the shit she really wanted out, and said she couldn’t handle going through the rest. So… I guess your feeling about this place was right, Chee-chee.”

A strange, bitter melancholy tugs at my heart, but I push it aside and try to make a joke. “I must be clairvoyant!”

Andy gives me a small laugh before changing the subject. “I have enough here to make some pretty decent omelets.”

He leaves the room with me, hands full of vegetables, and we walk down the hall together to the kitchen. I shake my head, still in disbelief that he’s had a secret garden in his safehouse the entire time I’ve known him and has been maintaining it with only the help of one lone housekeeper. “So you grow your own veggies… to make yourself omelets? On the occasion that you actually come here to eat something?”

He shrugs, but I see a slight twinkle of defensiveness in his eye. “If they need to be picked and I don’t have a use for them, I give them away or stick them in the fridge… wherever I am. Before I was staying at the mansion with you, I stayed here a lot more often. It was where I spent most of my time, anyway. Sometimes I went to check on Cas’s house in Pennsylvania, and he has a few more safehouses throughout the Boston area that I use on occasion. But it’s mostly just this one.”

He takes out an old omelet pan and puts it on the electric stove. “These pans burn sometimes, so sorry in advance.”

“How old are they?” I ask, noticing more and more that it’s clearly not only the blinds that are completely outdated. Everything in here screams, “Ninety’s furnishings.”

“Probably as old as everything else.” He chuckles, catching my eye. “I know it’s super outdated. I don’t know why I like it… I just do.”

“I think I can see why,” I say, looking around the room with a hint of a smile on my face. “There’s something that feels so… cozy.”

Andy studies the faux suede painted walls with some fondness. “Yeah, I guess that’s it. It reminds me a little of my house growing up. My parents were so fucking normal compared to…” his eyes connect with mine and he drifts off, reconsidering his words.

I laugh good-naturedly. “Compared to mine? Yeah, obviously.”

He considers me for a moment and then shrugs. “Compared to anyone’s in this life. My grandfather was wealthy, but my mother married a normal, everyday, run-of-the-mill lawyer. He went to work, worked hard, and came home. I was their only child so…. I guess I was kinda spoiled.” He huffs out a laugh, seeming lost in the memories.

“That sounds… really cool,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper. I want to hear all about this, and I hope he continues. I’m so glad when I get my wish a moment later.

“Yeah, well, my grandfather wasn’t super happy that my mom took what he felt was a step backward. But, ya know, he had to do some bad shit to be a rich guy, too. And he still wasn’t rich like your dad is rich. You know, a multimillionaire with billionaire dreams.”

His eyes are focused on the wall now, as he thinks. “He had his two girls: Cas’s mom and mine. And he taught them to marry up. But I don’t think my mom or Cas’s wanted that life, to be honest.” He takes a deep breath, filling his lungs with air and letting it out slowly.

“Even after my aunt — Cas’s mom — got pregnant by a mobster, she knew she had to get away. She didn’t want Cas to grow up in that life. So, she came here to Boston and lived by us. My mom helped her out… gave her the leg up that Cas’s own fucking father didn’t give her. But his dad came for him anyway when I was 11-years-old. We had grown up together. He was my role model. I wanted to be just like him. But when my father took the wrong case, prosecuted some low-level mob boss, and got killed for it… I was so angry. I joined the military to see if I could do something to make anything better, you know?” He swallows, looking right into me. I’m fucking riveted to his every word. And he knows it.

“Did you?” I breathe out, hoping to hear the answer I know I won’t hear. Hoping to hear that he did it. That he found a way to make something better. To make anything in this fucked up world better.

“It was the same, Chi. It was all the fucking same. The government, the judges, the army — it is the mafia. They’re just more sophisticated about it. More sanctioned.”

I let out a breath I hadn’t known I’d been holding. “So… so that’s why you left?”

“Yeah,” he sighs out heavily. “I left and went to Cas. Because I couldn’t fucking take the hypocrisy. And at least Cas wasn’t any of them, you know? He wasn’t the government or the mob. He was… whatever he wanted to be at that point, away from his father’s legacy. And that’s what I want to be. I take the jobs I want, and I’m fucking good at it. I work with whoever I want, protect the people I think deserve protection. It’s almost like I’m helping who I want to help, instead of whoever my boss, sergeant, or overseer of some kind decides would be most tactical to help.”

“Wow,” I say, feeling winded even though I’m not the one who gave the explanation. I’ve always known the government and mafia families are more entwined than American citizens typically know, but I didn’t think they’d be the same. The government is supposed to have some officials who are interested in truly helping the people of their country and the world around them. Do-gooders who are there for more than the power and the wealth.

I always thought that no one gets into the mob scene for anything except power and wealth. Although, I suppose, when I think about it, an organization like Cas’s can help people as much as it can hurt them. I wonder if there are some do-gooders there. I guess it’s possible.

Then, my brain switches gears, and I wonder what I will have to affect. If I’ll have to make decisions that hurt people for money and power. Not much about this life really makes me cringe these days, but I want to at that thought.

When I finally come back to the moment, I realize that Andy has finished chopping up the tiny onions and is starting on the peppers. “So… what kind of omelet is this going to be?” Suddenly, I desperately want to change the subject. It’s feeling a little too heavy in here.

“Shallot, spinach, and cheddar cheese, because that’s the only cheese I have here and these veggies happened to be ready. I also have a few cucumbers, but those don’t exactly go well with an omelet.”

I move a curl back out of Andy’s face, even though it’s too short to reach his eyes. I just want to touch him. “Thank you,” I whisper with a grateful smile. “This has been… really, weirdly one of the best days I’ve had in a long time.”

“I’ll tell someone to call in a bomb threat next time.” Andy gives me a devastating little quirk of his mouth and goes back to focusing on the veggies.

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