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I need to remove one of my gloves to turn on my phone and check the messages. My foot taps on the hard cobblestone beneath my feet as I wait on an iron bench.
The phone goes off in my hand and I stare at the message from my father.
Just a bit overworked because of my dumbass son.
Are you sure you’re all right?I ask him and ignore the insult.
It’s fine.
If you went to the hospital,I text him,it must’ve been bad.On the subway here, I got the message from my father that he was being released. He said he felt light-headed in the grocery store and the manager called an ambulance. He said they were just being dramatic, but I know my father. He’s stubborn and hates hospitals.
I’m fine. Go make it right with your wife, he tells me, and I have to tear my eyes away from the phone.
I’m trying.
I hesitate to tell him, but the heat flowing through my veins begs me to text my father.She’s pregnant.I can’t help it. I’m so fucking proud. Like I did something amazing for the first time in my life.
His response is immediate.
Thank God. Now she has to forgive you, right?he texts back, and I let a small chuckle escape.
I wish it were that easy.That’s not how it works, Pops.
He messages back,It’s Pop-Pop now. I’m so happy for you two. You better make it right with her.
My phone pings again and this time it’s not my father, it’s the person I’ve been waiting for.I’m here.
A few children shriek with laughter as they run by me and I lift my eyes, watching them chase each other. That’s when I see her. Samantha.
I shove the phone in my pocket, stand up and put my glove back on, then shove my hands into my coat pockets as I walk toward her.
“Thank you for meeting me.” Sam greets me with bright red cheeks that match the tip of her nose. Her hair’s been blown around her face by the wind, even though she has on a white cable knit beanie and a matching scarf. She slips her phone into her fur-trimmed jacket and declares, “I feel like I’m being paranoid.”
I don’t want to be here any longer than I have to. The only reason I agreed is because I have questions as to who could have broken in and if she has a lead on anything at all. I’ve got nothing and no one. There’s not a soul in the industry I’d trust with this information, sure as hell not with the cops on my ass for murder. “Tell me what’s going on.”
“James messaged me and said what happened to Tony could happen to me. He told me to lay off the demands for the divorce.” Her bottom lip quivers and again she glances over her shoulder.
“As in … an overdose?”
“I don’t know.” She takes a deep breath and looks to her left and right as her face crumples. “I think … I think he was threatening to kill me.”
Anger threads itself through me as the woman in front of me breaks down. “Are you all right?” She shakes her head.
“No,” she says and her voice cracks. “He didn’t really kill him, did he?”
“The coke was laced with enough fentanyl to kill an elephant and the cops are convinced it was intentional,” I tell her.
“I would say I don’t think James is capable of that,” Sam murmurs with sad eyes. As she speaks, her breath turns to fog. “But he’s done things before …”
“Things like what?”
“He’s choked me, thrown me against the wall. He’s threatened me in the past. But he’s never …” Her eyes become glossy as she says, “I didn’t think he would ever do it.”
“You think he killed Tony? Do you think the threat was a real one?”
She nods her head once, a frown marring her face as she gets choked up. “He said it was for you,” she speaks softly, her eyes flicking from me to the cars passing behind us. The chill of the breeze bites down to my bones as her words sink in.
It was James, and the coke was intended to kill me, not his client.