Chapter 2 - “Good night, Mr. Corso.”
Fay left knowing the 3-day curse was over.
But the larger war had only begun.
Friday morning smelled of cheap coffee and diesel exhaust.
Fay sat on a city bus with her fingers closed around an envelope containing $400 in crisp bills.
It was more money than she had held in months.
She did not feel wealthy.
Only temporarily able to breathe.
She gave $350 to her landlord, a balding man who smoked cheap cigars and regarded her like a stray animal he was legally required to tolerate.
The remaining $50 went toward rice, beans, and discounted apples.
It was bleak.
But she had a home for another 30 days.
When Fay returned to the Corso estate for her second shift, something felt wrong.
Mrs. Gable was absent.
Carmine paced the foyer.
“He’s having a bad day.”
Fay removed her coat.
“Leo?”
“No.”
Carmine rubbed his shaved head.
“The legs.”
“The doctor calls it phantom pain.”
“His brain thinks his legs are burning.”
“He’s been awake since 3:04 a.m.”
“He won’t take the medication. Threw the bottle at the wall.”
Fay walked into the kitchen.
She soaked several cotton towels in hot water, wrung them out, placed them inside a ceramic bowl, and carried them upstairs.
Dominic’s room was destroyed.
1 curtain had been torn partly from its track.
A lamp lay broken near the fireplace.
Dominic had backed his wheelchair into the far corner.
His head rested against the leather support.
His eyes were shut.
His teeth were clenched.
His hands gripped the armrests so tightly that his knuckles had begun bleeding.
“Get away from me.”
Fay put down the bowl.
She crossed the room.
Then knelt in front of him.
She lifted his right leg.
“I said don’t touch me!”
Dominic’s eyes opened.
They were bloodshot.
Wild with pain.
“Shut up and hold still.”
Fay wrapped a steaming towel around his calf.
Dominic flinched.
Then she wrapped another around his thigh and pressed both hands firmly into the muscle.
“It’s misfiring nerves.”
“Your brain wants a signal.”
“Give it another one.”
“Focus on the heat.”
“Focus on the pressure.”
Dominic stared down at her.
The heat and pressure began interfering with the sensations generated by his damaged nervous system.
“Breathe, Mr. Corso.”
“You’re fighting it.”
“You’re tightening your upper body.”
“Drop your shoulders.”
“I can’t.”
The words were almost a whisper.
“You can.”
Fay looked directly at him.
“Look at me.”
He did.
There was no pity in her expression.
Only concentration.
“Inhale.”
Dominic inhaled.
“Exhale.”
He released the breath.
“Drop your shoulders.”
Some tension left him.
Fay repeated the treatment on his other leg.
She remained there without speaking while the pain slowly receded.
After another 20 minutes, the towels were cold.
Fay removed them and replaced Dominic’s feet on the wheelchair supports.
He remained still.
“There’s a bottle of pills near the dresser.”
His voice sounded empty.
“Pick them up.”
“Put them on the desk.”
“Next time, I’ll take them.”
Fay found the medication and placed it beside his crystal decanter.
She picked up the bowl.
“Fay.”
She stopped.
“Thank you.”
The words seemed unfamiliar to him.
Fay nodded once.
Then left.
The weekend passed quietly.
Fay cleaned bathrooms, polished silver, and handled load after load of laundry.
Dominic remained upstairs.
She saw him only when delivering meals.
He ate everything.
Not 1 plate hit the wall.
By Tuesday, the change was unmistakable.
At noon, Fay carried grilled chicken salad, sparkling water, and black coffee upstairs.
Dominic’s curtains were already open.
Sunlight filled the room.
He sat at his desk wearing a white shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows.
Thick leather-bound ledgers lay before him.
Dominic Corso had returned to work.
“Lunch, Mr. Corso.”
“Bring it here.”
Fay carried the tray to the desk.
She began to leave.
“Sit down.”
“I have baseboards downstairs.”
“They can wait.”
Fay sat in the same leather chair Leo had occupied.
Dominic ate several bites of chicken while studying her.
“You’re not afraid of me.”
“Should I be?”
“Most people are.”
He put down the fork.
“I kill people for a living, Fay.”
“I order violence the way normal men order drinks.”
“Doesn’t that bother you?”
“I don’t think about it.”
“It has nothing to do with me.”
“Everything in this city has something to do with me.”
“My water was shut off last night because I couldn’t pay the utility bill.”
Fay’s voice remained flat.
“I washed my hair in a gas-station bathroom this morning.”
“Your business doesn’t pay my bills.”
“My job pays my bills.”
“As long as you don’t shoot me while I’m vacuuming, what you do in your own time is your business.”
Dominic stopped eating.
“Why are you so broke?”
“You work hard.”
“You’re smart.”
“You don’t seem like an addict.”
Fay’s jaw tightened.
“My father had stomach cancer.”
“He didn’t have insurance.”
“By the time he died, the hospital owned his house, his truck, and every dollar he had saved.”
“He co-signed loans in my name before he got sick to help with community college.”
“The bank took that too.”
“So you’re paying a dead man’s debt.”
“I’m paying for the right to exist without being sued.”
Dominic looked toward his ledgers.
He moved millions every week.
He could eliminate Fay’s debts without noticing the loss.
But he also knew from her expression that she would refuse.
Before he could respond, Carmine entered.
“Boss.”
“What?”
“Warehouse 4.”
“The South Docks.”
“Leo’s people hit it an hour ago.”
“They burned 2 trucks and put Mickey in the hospital.”
“The Russians are backing them.”
Dominic changed instantly.
The man who had been speaking to Fay disappeared behind cold calculation.
His gaze briefly dropped toward his motionless legs.
“Get the capos.”
“Lock down the East Side.”
“Nobody moves cargo without my approval.”
“We hit Leo’s club tonight.”
“Burn it to the foundation.”
Carmine glanced toward Fay.
“Should I clear the room?”
Dominic looked at her.
She remained seated with her hands folded.
“No.”
“She stays.”
Carmine left.
Fay stood.
“If you’re going to be busy burning buildings, I should get back to the baseboards.”
“Mrs. Gable checks my work.”
Dominic laughed.
“You’re unbelievable.”
“I’m hourly.”
Fay collected the plate.
“I’ll bring your coffee at 3:00.”
The war was escalating.
Blood would be spilled.
Yet Dominic no longer felt entirely paralyzed.
He had something solid in his life again.
On Thursday night, rain battered the estate.
It was after 9:00.
Most of Dominic’s soldiers had been deployed across the city to protect shipping routes and retaliate against Leo.
Only Carmine and 2 junior guards remained downstairs.
Fay was cleaning the grand library near Dominic’s quarters.
Dominic sat near the windows with a laptop on a wheeled table.
He had been awake for 30 hours.
“You should go home.”
“The streets aren’t safe.”
“The buses stop at 10:00.”
“If I leave now, I walk 3 miles in the rain.”
Fay continued cleaning.
“If I leave at 10:30, Carmine drives me to the station.”
“You put a lot of faith in my driver.”
“He’s more reliable than public transit.”
The lights went out.
The heating system died.
Darkness swallowed the estate.
Only the blue light from Dominic’s laptop remained.
Then a suppressed gunshot sounded from the courtyard.
Another followed.
Dominic snapped the laptop shut.
“Fay, get down.”
She dropped behind a mahogany credenza.
Below them came breaking glass.
Boots.
A muffled shout.
A body striking marble.
“They cut the main line,” Dominic whispered.
He removed a matte-black semiautomatic pistol hidden beneath his wheelchair cushion and chambered a round.
“Leo’s cleanup crew.”
“They know we’re understaffed.”
“Where’s Carmine?”
“If they reached the foyer, he’s pinned down or dead.”
Dominic positioned himself in shadow beside the door.
He could not run.
Could not dive behind furniture.
If the attackers entered, he would have to fight from the chair.
“Fay.”
“There’s a service staircase behind the bookshelf in the hall.”
“Take it.”
“Use the kitchen delivery entrance and run into the trees.”
Fay looked toward him.
“They’ll clear the hall first.”
“If I open that door, they’ll see me.”
“You can’t cover the angle.”
“I told you to get out.”
Dominic’s whisper became furious.
“I am not your responsibility.”
“I’m not leaving you to get slaughtered in a chair.”
Footsteps climbed the staircase.
2 men.
Fay crawled toward the fireplace.
Her hand closed around a heavy brass poker.
She positioned herself beside the hinged side of the doorway.
The door opened violently.
A gunman entered with an assault rifle.
He scanned the bed.
The desk.
The center of the room.
He failed to check behind the door.
Fay swung.
The brass poker struck his knee.
Bone gave way.
The man screamed and collapsed.
Dominic fired twice.
Both rounds hit the intruder’s chest.
The second gunman raised his weapon from the corridor.
Dominic was exposed.
Fay seized the first attacker by his tactical vest.
Using adrenaline and every ounce of strength she had, she dragged the body into the doorway.
Gunfire tore through the dead man and the wooden frame.
Dominic leaned from the shadows.
1 shot.
A grunt.
Then a body tumbled down the stairs.
Silence returned.
The air smelled of gunpowder and blood.
Fay sat against the wall gripping the fireplace poker.
Her body shook.
Her eyes remained steady.
Dominic lowered his pistol.
“You’re out of your mind.”
“Probably.”
Fay tried to catch her breath.
“Does this count as overtime?”
Within 40 minutes, red and blue lights covered the estate grounds, though no city police entered.
2 black SUVs carrying the Corso crest arrived instead.
A dozen armed men secured the property and searched the woods.
Carmine was alive.
Barely.
He sat on a kitchen counter with a blood-soaked bandage around his shoulder while a private surgeon stitched the wound.
Upstairs, associates removed the bodies and rolled away the ruined Persian rug.
Dominic sat behind his desk.
His pistol remained within reach.
Fay bandaged her scraped knuckles near the window.
Her coat was stained with blood and soot.
Mrs. Gable entered carrying a leather duffel bag.
For the first time, Fay saw the older woman’s hands shake.
“Leo’s main compound on the East Side has been taken.”
“Carmine’s crew moved in while Leo waited for confirmation that you were dead.”
“And the Russians?”
“They withdrew when Leo’s safe house fell.”
“They won’t cross the river again.”
Dominic nodded.
The war was over.
His position was secure.
The underground had learned that a paralyzed king could still be dangerous.
Mrs. Gable left the duffel bag on his desk and departed.
Dominic looked toward Fay.
“Come here.”
Fay approached.
He opened the bag.
Stacks of $100 bills filled it.
Approximately $50,000.
“What is that?”
“A severance package.”
Fay felt something unexpected tighten in her chest.
“You’re firing me.”
“No.”
Dominic looked directly at her.
“I’m protecting you.”
“You stepped between me and a bullet tonight.”
“Leo’s people are dead.”
“But there will always be another Leo.”
“Another power grab.”
“Another night when the lights go out.”
His hands rested against the desk.
“You survived my house.”
“My temper.”
“A hit squad.”
“You don’t belong in this gutter, Fay.”
“Take it.”
“Pay your father’s debts.”
May you like
“Buy a clean house somewhere quiet where nobody knows me.”
“You earned it.”
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