Page 26 of Merciless Attraction

“How did you guys choose that place and what do the bullet holes have to do with anything?” I try to emphasize the patience in my tone. I want her to walk me through it.

“The downfall of Trips was like a bat signal to my brothers. They wanted to be bigger thanTre Fratelliof La Familia.There are too many egos, bosses, and dons running around Manhattan like it’s the fucking 80’s. With Armande’s issues out here, Bash wanted to claim Trips like a trophy to stamp the Marzano family’s new foundation of power in San Francisco.”

I don’t interrupt her but as she talks, I drive around to the top floor of the parking garage and there aren’t any cars up here.

Gemma’s voice barely holds any emotion, undoubtedly exhausted from everything. She says, “Natalie’s always so excited when my brothers are around. She doesn’t see the blood after the bullets. I kept fingering the bullet holes at Trips because they were real. Someone just painted over them. As if a coat of that ugly blue paint could erase them. Frankie didn’t like my attitude about the bullet holes.”

“He was pissed about that, but he left once I came over to you and Natalie.”

She nods. “Yeah. That guy, the asshole terrorizing me tonight? I saw him in Booked and Boozy before we closed.”

“We can go back there and have the security footage sent to us.”

Gemma sighs. “It wouldn’t matter. I didn’t see the asshole chasing me through this stupid garage. The guy in the cafe said that Verducci sends his best, but something is so off about it all.”

“I agree. Something isn’t quite right about any of this. Where is your car, Gem?” I ask her.

She looks around, and panic resurfaces. “I don’t know. Fuck! I parked it on the top level because there weren’t any other spots available. I knew I should have taken the bus. I didn’t know how to get here from your place, and I wasn’t about to call an UBER. Who knows what Verducci might try?”

“It’s not up here.” I tell her as we circle every floor until we’re at the front entrance where the guard is still inside the small security booth.

We both get out of the car, but Gemma’s panic turns to rage as she pounds her fist on the glass window, startling the security guard.

“WHERE THE FUCK IS MY CAR?” she shouts through the glass. I know she’s spiraling, and I have to step in. It’s hot seeing her shift into this bad ass version of herself.

“I’m sorry, ma’am, what kind of car was it?” he asks, peering over at me. All I offer him is a slight rise and fall of my shoulders. He has to answer her question.

“2020 Volvo, silver, parked on the top level. California plate, S as in Satan, D as in dickhead, F as in fucked, four, three, eight. Where is it and where were you? I was being harassed on my way to my car. Some guy stalked me through each level and now my car is missing!”

“Please calm down and let me check on it,” the booth attendant says with his hands shaking while he types something into the computer. The way his eyes widen lets me know he’s not about to give us good news. “Uh, it was towed because it looked abandoned. The tires were flat and rear window was shattered.”

“WHAT? How is that possible? I just parked it here this morning.” Gemma shouts. “Where was it taken?”

He shakenly slides a business card from the towing company under the glass and backs away. I grab the card and lead Gemma back to my car where she trembles against my chest. I hold her as she sobs with the frustration steaming off her.

“I’m sorry, Gemma. Let’s go see how bad it is and I promise to take care of it.”

She cries for a little longer before shaking her head. “You’re not supposed to take care of this. This isn’t supposed to happen. I left New York. I gave up everything and I still can’t get away from this fucking LIFE!”

Gemma screams into my chest, but the sounds are muffled as I ease her into the car. I fucking hate this. I go back to the security guard and slide my business card under the glass slot.

“I’m going to need you to send me the security footage for the past four days to the contact information on that card.”

“Sir, I’m not allowed to do that, privacy reasons for our customers.”

“Are you a gambling man?” I ask the attendant. I’m not grasping at straws because I can see the game he’s playing on his phone. It’s illegal to gamble online in California.

“Sometimes,” he answers, skepticism riddling his tone.

“What’s your game?” It doesn’t matter what his answer is because if he’s playing anywhere in the city, it’s a mob-backed game.

“Poker and blackjack.”

“You know The Green Room?” I ask him because most gamblers in the city either play there or wish they could play. It’s not a specific place, but an event that moves locations every week. It’s not just for gamblers, it’s one of those things people his age want to be a part of, to say they went to a Green Room game.

“Of course, man. I’d love to play there.”

“Okay, do me a favor since we need the footage for her insurance, send it to me and I’ll make sure you have an invitation to the Green Room.”

---