Page 12 of Brando

It makes me damn angry that Falcone would choose today of all days to reach out to me. And all too quickly, I’m on high alert as my suspicions are awakened. We haven’t spoken since school, so how did he get my number?

“Call him,” Brando says.

I shake my head, and my hands start to shake as fear takes over me.

“Call. Him.”

His voice is firm, stone cold and commanding, leaving no room for argument. A tone that says I’ll call him if I know what’s good for me. Brando has an itch to know what the dumb fucker wants.

“Brando…”

My uncle’s voice is more a plea than a command, begging him to spare me the added trauma of calling a man I want nothing to do with.

“I can’t do this,” I whisper.

“Why not?”

He squints, his curious eyes watching me carefully for every move, every twitch. He’s not going to back down without me giving him a valid reason to do so. I do the only thing I can do while still saving face.

With shaking hands, I finally press the callback button, my fingers quivering slightly as I raise the phone to my ear, eventhough I have it on speaker, like Brando requested. Silence envelops us, thick and heavy, as we wait for Frank’s voice to spill into the space. The ringtone echoes mockingly until finally, there's a click.

“Mia.” Frank’s voice comes through, smooth and syrupy, like he’s engaging in an act of foreplay with me through the connection. He knew I’d call; he was almost certain of it.

“What do you want, Frank?” My tone is cold, my protective barriers rising instantly.

“Touchy Mia. I like. That’s no way to greet an old love now, is it?”

“What do you want, Frank? And how did you get my number?”

True to style, he ignores the question he doesn’t want to answer and tells me we need to meet.

“Why?” I counter sharply. “Why are you calling me after all this time?”

I make a point of looking at Brando as I talk, sizing him up. I would give anything to know what he’s thinking as he watches me while listening intently to the conversation.

Mason shifts listlessly on his feet, his anxiety radiating off him in waves, a seismic eruption about to erupt.

“One little birdy told me you’re missing two little birdies.” I stiffen at Frank’s words, my lips parting slightly as I absorb his words. Fear courses through my veins as I dissect his words and come to the same conclusion as the other two men in the room. The timing is off; there is only one reason why Falcone is contacting me after all these years.

“Do you have my sisters?” I ask. I look toward Brando briefly, seeking an anchor in the storm I feel is coming.

“Meet me at our spot tomorrow at midday.”

It’s the last thing he says before the line clicks over and static fills the room. My eyes collide with Brando’s for a split moment as we’re transported back in time, to a place we no longer belong.

‘Our spot.’

It had always been our spot, until it wasn’t.

That beautiful little slice of nirvana had belonged to us, until Falcone tainted it. Like he tainted everything else in my life.

I’m silent for a beat before I put down my phone slowly and turn to face the room. I feel the colour draining from my face as I sway on my feet.

“Worse,” I gasp. “This is so much worse than I imagined.”

In all theyears I’d known Brando Gatti in my past life, I never knew him to be unreasonable. Never saw a lick of possession. Contrary, it stung like a bitch when he watched me walk away with Frank Falcone and he let it happen. It just happened. And he accepted it without a fight. Tore my insides to shreds then clobbered them until I thought I couldn’t breathe.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, in my daydreams and fantasies, I had always believed that Brando and I were destined for each other. He just got me. He just knew me inside out, like no-one else could or ever would. He accepted me the way I was, with all my flaws and fears, and he never tried to change the way I am. It was just a given, in my mind at least, that we would somehow end up together. But eventually, our friendship waned to something resembling ‘casual friends’ at best, until the situation became so awkward that we went out of our way to avoid each other. How mistaken my foolish heart had been, because we didn’t end up together, and Brando ended up leaving me altogether. That Summer when Frank slipped his hand intomine and paraded us across the schoolyard, wordlessly telling everyone and anyone who had eyes that we were an item, that was the summer that Brando and I died. Well, what was left of us, anyway.

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