When Leana arrived at the shelter on Prince Street, she found it crowded with men, women and children. Volunteers circulated with hot coffee and sandwiches, soup and rolls. Fluorescent lights winked and buzzed, casting a harsh glow on an even harsher reality.
She went to the rear of the shelter, chose a seat at the only empty table and watched the entrance. She wanted to see Mario come in, wanted to watch him walk toward her, wanted to feel the reassurance his presence would bring. Only then would she feel reasonably safe.
As she sat there, her thoughts turned to Michael and she wondered, as she had throughout the day, where he was and why he hadn’t phoned or come by the apartment. Although only a day had passed since they were together, she was surprised by how much she missed him.
A woman carrying a pot of hot coffee and a bag of Styrofoam cups stopped beside her table and sat down. “You’re new,” she said. “My name is Karen. Welcome.”
Leana felt self-conscious. She didn’t belong here. Her father was one of the richest men in the country. This woman’s time should be spent with someone who needed the attention. “Thank you,” she said.
“Would you like some coffee? You look cold in those wet clothes.”
“No, thank you,” Leana said. “I don’t want to be any trouble.”
“It’s no trouble at all. Here. Let me pour you a cup.”
“But I didn’t come here for that. I came here to meet someone.”
The woman lifted her head. Leana noticed her noticing the expensive clothes she wore, the diamond and gold watch Harold gave as a Christmas gift and suddenly wished she was somewhere else.
“I see,” the woman said. She poured Leana a cup of coffee anyway and handed it to her. “Look,” she said. “We all have problems. If you feel uncomfortable accepting this-which you shouldn’t-maybe you’d like to give a donation when you leave. But that’s up to you. This coffee will warm you up and, if nothing else, that makes me feel good.”
She stood. “Now, how about a blanket while you’re waiting for your friend?”
Leana was touched by the woman’s kindness. “I’d love a blanket,” she said.
When she was alone, she looked more closely around the shelter. Leana knew that for many of these people, what they were eating here was probably their first meal of the day. In a corner of the room, she saw one of the volunteers bathing a young child while its mother, preoccupied with her other two children, looked on. She wondered where this woman and her children would sleep tonight. Had they found space at a shelter, or was it the street for them after this?
She took a sip of coffee and knew that Mario chose to meet here on purpose. Even now, with a threat against her life, he refused to let her forget how fortunate she was.
When the woman returned with the blanket, Leana wrapped it around her shoulders, thanked her and asked, “Where do these people go at night, once they’re finished eating?”
The woman leaned against the table. “By now all the shelters are full,” she said. “And so they go back to their spots on the streets.”
Leana looked across the room. She could not imagine that woman and her children sleeping alone on the streets. “How do they survive there? How do they live?”
“Many don’t survive there. Many don’t live.”
The woman said it so matter-of-factly, Leana was taken aback. “Those children over there with that woman. Do they go to school?”
“Some do. But even if they don’t, that doesn’t mean they’re not bright. Every child you see in this room- except for the smaller ones-knows how to take care of himself. If they are hungry and there isn’t a food shelter nearby, then they know which restaurants throw out the cleanest trash. If they want a bed for the night, they know to start looking early at the shelters instead of looking late. If they have no money, they either beg, borrow or steal-usually steal.” The woman shrugged. “It’s a way of life for them,” she said. “While some are angry as hell at the system, you’d be surprised by how many have accepted their situation.”
Leana couldn’t imagine accepting any of this. She couldn’t imagine living without a home, or going to bed hungry, or sleeping in a cardboard box. She couldn’t imagine picking through a garbage can for food.
She looked around the room and a feeling of shame overcame her. Had she really had it so bad as a child?
There was the sound of a door being shut and Leana looked up to see Mario coming toward her. Never in her life had she been more happy to see him.
“That your friend?” the woman asked.
“Yes,” Leana said. “That’s my friend.”
“You’re a lucky woman. He’s one of my favorite people. Do you realize he comes here once a week with either a carload of food or a check to buy food?”
“It wouldn’t surprise me.”
The woman left and Leana kept looking at Mario, who was now weaving through the tables.
“My car’s outside,” Mario said, after giving Leana a hug. “I want you to come with me. We’re moving you out of your apartment.”
Leana hadn’t expected this. She began to protest. “But where will I go?”
“That’s taken care of.”
“There’s got to be another way, Mario. I love that apartment.”
“More than your life? Let’s go.”
Reluctantly, Leana went with him. As they left the shelter and stepped into the night, the two men waiting outside the entrance fell in step behind them. Leana knew that these men, like herself and Mario, were armed.
Traffic was barely moving on Prince. Cars were double-parked and people were cutting through traffic. Mario’s black Taurus was parked at the street corner, shimmering in the falling rain.
They sat in the back, Mario’s men in the front. The moment the door was shut behind them, Leana reached over and held Mario tightly. “It’s going to be all right,” he said. “Just do as I say.”
“I’m scared.”
“There’s no need to be. Just do as I say.”
They rode in silence, each secure in the other’s arms. She put her head on his shoulder.
“On the phone you mentioned a note,” Mario said. “I want to see it. Do you have it with you?”
“It’s at my apartment.”
“Along with the gun?”
“No. I have that with me.”
He was pleased by this. He released her from the embrace and asked to see it.
Leana removed the gun from her inside jacket pocket. It felt cold and heavy and threatening in her hands. She gave it to Mario. “Is it loaded?”
He checked. “It’s loaded. Where do you live?”
Leana told him. Mario leaned forward and gave the driver directions. He wanted that note. Before killing Eric Parker, he planned on nailing it to the man’s forehead.
After securing the apartment, Mario told his men to wait for them in the hall. “We won’t be long,” he said. “Make sure no one comes near here.”
He closed the door and looked across the room at Leana. She was removing the note from her bedside table. Watching her now, he felt the same deep love, the same strong physical attraction, the same sense of wanting to protect her, that he felt when they were together for those brief six months.
He thought of Lucia then and realized that whatever love he once felt for her was nothing compared to the love he felt for Leana. And how could it ever compare? With Leana, love came naturally. With Lucia, their lives had been arranged by their fathers from birth. It always was known that Antonio De Cicco’s first-born son would marry Giovanni Buscetta’s first-born daughter.
For Lucia Buscetta, the marriage was a welcome event-her attraction to Mario De Cicco was great. For Mario, the marriage was a cruelty imposed on him by his father. At the age of eighteen, he was told to marry a
