Chapter Text
Chapter Text
Epilogue
When Frank Mosca’s body hit the floor of the spaghetti factory, it should have made a thud. But I stood on the landing where I’d shot him, my ears ringing from the blast of the .38 Special, and I heard nothing. My feet seemed glued to the platform, and I lowered the pistol automatically. My mind was a blank, aside from one thought.
Sonny was safe.
The pulley lift started down again with Sonny, and I managed to start back down the steps. By the time I reached the ground floor, Rico was crouched next to the crumpled body, checking for a pulse. Why he even bothered was a mystery; Mosca’s arms and legs were splayed in an unnatural way, with his head at a freakish angle. A pool of blood spread slowly across the floor.
“He’s gone,” Rico said, looking up at me. I handed him his gun as he stood and dusted off his pants.
“You okay?” he asked, returning it to his ankle holster.
“Yeah.” I nodded. It was a lie; my stomach churned as I stared at Mosca’s inert form. My mind began to form thoughts again, and I jammed both hands into the pockets of my jacket so Rico wouldn’t see them shaking. There was no reason for them to shake—I had no regrets about killing that piece of scum. He would have killed me if the guys hadn’t come along when they did. And he would have enjoyed taunting me first. Finally, he was trying to kill Sonny when I shot him.
I scanned the floor around Mosca’s body, trying to spot his pistol. Rico was doing the same, and we both saw it at the same time, a few steps away from his body. There was nothing we needed to do about it now; Crime Scene Investigation would take care of it when they came to document the scene and collect evidence.
“I’m going to call it in.” Rico touched my arm and headed for the Testarossa, parked outside.
As he turned away, Sonny reached me. He put an arm around me, and I know he could feel me shaking. “Are you okay?” He repeated Rico’s question. “Thank God we made it here in time, and thank God you made the right play.” He moved closer and I could feel his warm breath on my hair. It was like he was going to… Something snapped inside me and I pushed him away.
“Don’t, Sonny. Please don’t kiss me.” I could hear my voice break. “Remember you have a wife. I don’t mess around with married guys. Hugging and kissing each other—like at my apartment the other night—can’t happen again. I can’t be your work thing, your girlfriend, or your lover.”
He jerked back, a shocked look on his face as he stared at me. “I wasn't gonna kiss you, Gina. I just wanted to make sure you're ok. It's always rough when you have to kill someone. Even if they deserve it.”
Did I totally misinterpret that kiss? I wondered. Or is he lying to me now? Or are we both fooling ourselves? I slid right past his comment about how tough it was to kill someone. In Mosca’s case, I only did what I had to do.
Before I could say anything else, Rico was back. “The Lieutenant’s on his way, along with the Medical Examiner’s office.”
“Let me see if I can find a chair for Gina,” Sonny said. “She shouldn’t have to stand around until they get here.”
“I’m fine,” I said. It was another lie.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” said Rico. “It could be fifteen to twenty minutes before Castillo makes it here. We’ll secure the scene, but after that, we just sit on our hands—that chump cashed in his one-way ticket. He ain’t skippin’ after that dose of lead poisoning.” He grinned, but his eyes held a steely glint.
I shuddered. It wasn’t my first shooting, and Mosca deserved what he got. But in the heat, the smell of his blood seeped into my nostrils. And I couldn’t help replaying the time we’d spent together.
Sonny reappeared, carrying a metal office chair. He turned it to face away from Mosca. “Sit,” he ordered. His face, for once, was expressionless.
Suddenly my legs wouldn’t hold me and I did sit down. “Thanks,” I told him, taking a deep breath.
He and Rico took care of securing the factory entrance and exit, as well as the drive leading to the building. Rico came back alone and I could hear the Testarossa’s roar as Sonny drove away.
“What’s Sonny doing?” I asked. “I thought we all had to stay until Castillo and the ME arrive.” My voice was dull; I hardly recognized it.
“He’ll be right back.” Rico stood opposite me; he leaned back against a stack of pallets.
I couldn’t seem to keep track of time. It might have been two minutes, or fifteen, but after a bit, Sonny was back. He parked in the same spot he’d occupied before and walked inside, handing me a bottle of Diet Coke—my favorite, as he well knew.
I accepted it. “Thanks,” I said, doing my best to give him a natural smile, even though my voice still sounded wooden.
“Don’t mention it.” He smiled back, but there was something sad in his eyes.
Unscrewing the top, I took a sip of the cold, fizzy drink.
The world will keep turning. And somehow, I’ll move on.
