Page 43 of Dreadful
Raze
Roman said he’ll take the van while I deal with Gertrude. What do I tell her if she starts asking questions?
I sigh.
She won’t.
She never does. The “have fun…ciao”answer she just gave me is standard for her. The less women in the Family know, the safer they are. Despite what she tries to make me believe, though, I know she’s not completely in the dark. Claudio has his dirty fingers in too many cesspools for her to be oblivious. It’s just as Vinnie said, though. Convenient ignorance in the mob is bliss.
Once everything’s in order, I set off toward the bakery to make sure my sweet Tallie is safe. After my CCTV recon, I was able to figure out that she lives in an apartment above the bakery. All I need to do is a little harmless breaking and entering, ensure she’s sound asleep in her bed, and I’ll be on my way.
The bakery’s parking spot in the alley behind Tallie’s building is curiously empty, and I make a mental note to find out where Gio parks. If he’s not using their parking space, then he’s likely paying an arm and a leg for a garage spot, not to mention it could be blocks away.
I file that information away and focus on unlocking the building’s back door. Unfortunately, it’s alarmingly simple to open with the lockpick on my keychain. I’ll have to fix that as soon as possible, too. I can’t let Tallie and her family be vulnerable when I’m not around.
The foyer separates the outside from the door to the kitchen, and another door that leads to the residence stairs. Each red oak step creaks with my weight. They look like they might be original to the building, so I slow my steps in case they’re as rickety as they sound. The second floor’s long, skinny hallway is dark, but it’s easy to tell which door is hers and hernonni’s.
Theirs has a Thanksgiving wreath made out of cupcake liners and a bright welcome mat in the shape of a piece of cake with a mug of tea on the side. “Come for the Sweets, Stay for the Deets” is written in cutesy cursive. I only just met the two men, but if I had to guess on attitude alone, I’d bet Tony insisted on the decorations, and Gio quickly gave in to make his husband happy. The TV blares Lucille Ball’s iconic cry followed by an audience’s burst of laughter, a combination that will forever live in my memory thanks to my ownnonna’sobsession withI Love Lucy. It seems the Amorettis have the same love for the classic ’50s sitcom.
Tallie’s door, however, is empty, devoid of color or welcome. It’s just like any other plain door, but compared to hernonni, it’s almost…sad.
Che cazzo! Get a grip, it’s just a goddamn door.
I listen for any movement outside her apartment with my ear pressed to the wooden door. I can’t hear anything, and there’s no light coming through the cracks.
After a few more minutes of silence, I take my chances, and as quietly as I can, I pull out my torsion bar and pick from the kit on my keychain. Just a little tension and a few feathering touches on the tumblers in the lock have the door clicking open softly. Again, it’s barely any trouble, and I mentally curse myself for letting this lapse in security happen. Making a mental note to remedy itimmediately, I slip through the door and close it behind me, all without making a sound.
Tallie’s sugary and floral scent fills my senses, and my cock strains against my slacks. A tall, black privacy screen helps separate the entryway from the rest of the room, so I’m protected from her view—wherever she is. Her shoes are organized in a nice straight line, and her coats and jackets hang on doorknob hooks on the wall. I prop my cane up beside the door, but I stay behind the screen and lean past the screen to see farther into the studio.
Potted flowers, herbs, and heated lamps line the windowsill. The sweet scent makes me think of pastels and pinks like the bakery below, but Tallie’s room is full of black, rich grays, and deep purples—the perfect palette and epitome of her. Beauty from darkness.
A shower squeaks on the other side of the room. When I hear splashes, I take my chances and venture farther into the apartment.
On the other side of the privacy screen, there’s a quaint kitchenette with two chairs at a portable island. An oversized chair that looks comfortable as hell sits in one corner, and a queen-sized bed with a purple bedspread and a gray fabric headboard seems to take up the rest of the room. A mannequin in a baggy black dress and a white cloth draped around her like a scarf stands where a TV normally would. I can almost see her sitting up against her headboard, using her knees as a table as she draws and studies her design.
She’s still nowhere to be found, though, not until I see theopenbathroom door. The realization jolts me from my perusal, and I go stock-still, worried that I’ll catch the attention of a stunning, but furious,vipera. Steam curls out from the door, and I can’t see inside at this angle, which means she can’t see me.
Grazie a Dio.
I slowly back up behind the partition again and find a small crack in between screens so that I can keep my eyes on the bathroom doorway. My racing pulse has almost calmed down when my phone buzzes in my pocket, giving me a heart attack all over again. I glance back and forth from the bathroom to my screen as I check the message.
Raze
Dude, why the fuck did you kill Alfonso?
Cazzo.
If my own best friend thinks I killed Claudio’s driver, I’m fucked with Claudio.
It wasn’t me.
Are you sure?
I swear. The guy by the dumpster is mine, but Claudio can’t know about either one.
We can make the one guy disappear, but how the fuck do we make the driver look like someone else did it? He looks like he either got into a fight with you or a shitty guillotine. Claudio won’t believe you didn’t do it. Hell, I’m not even sure I believe you.
I bite back a groan. This is such a shitshow. As soon as Claudio sees that cut, he’s going to suspect me.
