“Bodyguards,” Zane fills in for me, obviously noticing my every maneuver with ease, sharpness, and ability. “It comes with the territory.”
My focus skates back to him because it makes sense. I’m just not used to seeing it. To have coffee with someone who’s possibly still involved with the mob. Though, it never changed how I thought about Zane. He’s never done anything in front of me that was merciless and mean.
His brother, on the other hand…
“Your father is a powerful man,” I reply, stating the absolute obvious. “I’m sure that comes with…”
What, Elena? You wanna start talking about mob shit to a mobster? I don’t think that’s going to bode well.
Zane saves me, yet again, from having to finish that sentence because he gives me a curt nod and nothing more. “Tell me what happened with Marcella.”
My heart twists a bit in my chest at the reminder of why I’m here and what led to this meeting in the first place.
“My dad…got into some trouble. He…I honestly don’t know the specifics of it because I was too upset to listen, but he owes money to The Disciples. They’re a newer gang that?—”
“I know who they are,” Zane states matter-of-factly and I seal my lips closed.
Of course he does.
Crime groups, I’m sure, run into each other and have beef. It’s ninety-eight percent of all episodes ofThe First 48.
Shifting in my chair, I try to get comfortable under Zane’s gaze but fail. “My dad called me one night, Sunday, and told me that he got a call. Marcella was being used as leverage and we needed to find a way to get her back.”
“How much?”
I blow out my exhale through my parted lips. “One million dollars.”
“John owes onemilliondollars?” Zane’s whole face lifts heavenward and, yeah. It took me a couple of minutes to allow that information to sink in, too.
However, I can’t help but feel embarrassed about my father’s actions and that I’m asking an old childhood friend for help when we haven’t spoken in years.
“All I’m concerned about is that Marcella is brought back home safely,” I emit. “I don’t know any of the specific dealings involving Dad and The Disciples. I didn’t even know about it until it was way too late.”
“What happened, Elena?” Zane asks, witnessing my inner turmoil. “Your dad used to be a pretty solid guy. I can’t imagine why he’d fuckin’ get involved with something like this.”
One of the baristas comes to our table then, inquiring about what Zane would like to drink, and he rattles off something long before asking for another one of whatever I’m having.
I feel the weight of his stare again after she leaves and swallow down the past. It’s hard to talk about Mom because grief is this pill that is shoved down my throat every time I think too long on it.
It’s literally torture every day without her here.
Everything seemed to deteriorate slowly after she was gone because Mom was the glue.
And we all took full advantage of that fact until after she died.
“Mom…died a week before I graduated from Sutter High,” I profess, gaping at the sugar packets in the middle of the table. “Dad obviously didn’t take it well.”
“I wouldn’t imagine he would. How did she…”
I appreciate him not saying the word. I’ve had to say it too many times in my life and I’d rather not anymore. “Drunk driver.”
“In Sutter?”
I shake my head. “Royal Oak. She was on her way home from visiting a friend. Got caught under an eighteen-wheeler after he rear-ended her. Dad got to the scene and…I think he saw things…”
A moment of silence fills the space between us before Zane offers up, “I’m sorry. Your mom was a really nice lady.”
“She was.”