Lisa is a woman who has been unremarkable in her time and my interactions with her. She isn’t into kink, has several regulars, keeps her nose clean, is without drama, and always pays on time. I appreciate all of that and make sure she knows it. She’s offered to service me many times whenever I like. I haven’t taken her up on the offer.
While a beautiful woman, Lisa has had too much work done to appeal. I loathe fake breasts. Her face is filled with so many things, it doesn’t move on its own much. Tonight it’s as animated as I’ve ever seen it, which means there is definitely a problem.
“I’m sorry, Tony. I hate to bother you but I have got to talk to you.”
I nod, “Follow me.” The door to the back of the club that leads to Dominic’s office, and the stairs up to his apartment, is always covered by an employee. I nod to the man; he unlocks the door for me. Pulling out my keys, I make use of Dominic’s office for the first time in years without him here. Once again, I’m wondering where he is.
Flicking on the lights, I motion to a chair in the seating area off to the side of his desk and sit down in front of her. “What’s going on?”
“It’s about the best friend I had in the world when I was growing. Her name is Christy Teller. She’s planning on killing you.” She starts crying.
“And?”
Lisa’s eyes go wide.
I shrug. “It’s fine. She’s not the first woman to want me dead. Why don’t you tell me what you know and I’ll take care of it.”
Her hands twist together. “You can’t kill her Tony. I know that’s what you’re thinking you should do, but you can’t. She’s mixed up in the head. Her mother fucked her up. All her life, Christy’s mom, Alana, has treated her like shit. Even on her death bed, she was still doing it. Alana was with Michael Corsia’s father, Danny, for like three years before Michael—you know, and you killed him. Danny committed suicide a week after you killed Michael.”
I’d heard about Danny. The man wasn’t on my radar at the time, but the papers made it into something, flashing the story of my son’s death and upcoming trial.
“Alana blamed you for Danny. For some crazy reason she got it in her head her life was shit because of Danny dying. It wasn’t true, her life was always shit. And it was usually Christy’s fault. At least that’s what she’d tell Christy. She beat Christy for everything that went wrong; if Alana overslept, if it was a Monday. Alana made Christy’s life a living hell before she even met Danny. After Danny died, it got way worse though.”
I hand her a handkerchief. She starts crying even harder for some reason. Getting up, I pour her a few fingers of brandy. She takes it and gulps it down. It takes her a few minutes to continue speaking.
“On her deathbed, she made Christy promise to make you pay for Danny’s death and for her life being ruined. Christy doesn’t want to kill you. She doesn’t want to kill anyone. I swear on my life, she’s the sweetest person in the world. She was a nurse, for christ’s sake.” She works to breathe deep instead of the agitated pants coming out of her.
“But Alana fucked with her head, tried to make her promise to kill Dominic so you would hurt the way Danny hurt. Christy told her she would never be able to do it—you’d already lost one son, and it was because of what Michael did. Alana told her then the least she could do was kill you, how you didn’t deserve to live for all the bad things you’ve done. Christy told Alana she would do it. As a way of letting her rest in peace, but she was never going to actually do it.”
She’s trembling as she wipes the tears streaming down her face. “Alana died almost a year ago. Like I said, it never even crossed Christy’s mind to do it. Only ever since then, her life has gotten more and more fucked up. She had a bad miscarriage, like her third one or something, and her husband left her and wiped out their accounts. Then she lost the nursing job she loved so much because she couldn’t get out of bed with the baby thing. Now she’s thinking she’s getting bad karma for not doing what she promised her mother. How if she does what Alana wanted, maybe it will fix her life or something.”
Shaking her head, she takes a few deep breaths before looking up at me. Her eyes are pleading for understanding.
“She told me about the whole killing you thing right after Alana died. I didn’t say anything then because I was sure nothing would come of it, and nothing did. But she called me the other day and she sounded different. Christy knows I work for you, or you know, you run the building and us women. She asked if I could give her your address. I asked why and she admitted she believes if she does what she promised Alana then her life will go back to good again.”
I barely manage not to roll my eyes. No way is killing me going to fix a life as fucked up as hers.
“Christy managed to get a gun. She was going to go up to your house and kill you when you answered the door. I managed to talk her out of it. Told her that she had to be more careful. You’ve got cameras all over your place. I promised I’d meet up with her tonight, and we could figure something else out together.”
Wonderful, an unstable woman gunning for me. Yes, her life sounded like hell. I have no sympathy. Despite what Lisa has asked, there is only one way to resolve the issue: I have to kill Christy Teller. There is no other solution. Leaving someone alive who wants me dead isn’t even a question. It sounds like I’ll be doing the woman a favor.
“Tell her that she needs to get close to me. Get me comfortable with her enough I’m willing to turn off the cameras. I’m without a mistress and looking for someone new. Send her to me asking to work in the building so I know she’s available, then have her entice me to make her my mistress.”
Lisa’s eyes go big, and she shakes her head.
“Even if she manages to kill me, she’ll be dead before I’m buried. My men or Dominic will find her. Dominic won’t stop until he’s hunted her down and killed her. If you care about her, then make sure she understands that. I’m a sucker for a woman. I’ll fall for her and not think of the consequences—that’s the story you feed her.”
It’s the one many believe. With my height and build—that I hit by the time I was sixteen—I’ve always done what I could to make sure a woman didn’t fear me. I spoke softer, smiled often, ensured my touch was gentle. The men of the mafia, who enjoyed people fearing them, believed it was only about getting pussy. It wasn’t, but I don’t give a shit what anyone thinks and never explained myself.
“Tell her once she’s close to me, I’ll turn the cameras off in my house and she’ll have her chance. She can pull the trigger and be gone by the time someone finds me. It will give her time to disappear.”
Sniffling, she nods. “I’ll do it. Please don’t kill her, Tony. I know when you meet her, you’ll understand. I know you will.”
I stand, I will not lie to her. Once Christy Teller made up her mind to kill me, she sealed her own fate. “Does she have the five grand for rent she’d need to move in?”
I didn’t take a cut of the women’s earnings. To live and do business in the building, the women paid a flat five grand a month as rent. Not every woman chose to live in the place full time, I didn’t care if they did or not, but they would pay the rent monthly.
Lisa shakes her head. “She’s broke.”