Finity lived in fear from that day on, especially returning from work. Neil didn't come around much anymore, and she constantly felt Freddie's wrath would soon fall upon her. Every sound harassed her. Was it him? Every stranger wearing shades at a distance made her pulse quicken. Even footsteps had her checking over her shoulder. The stress was overwhelming her.
After a week went by, she started to feel safe. Maybe he lived in another city. The resort was a haven for tourists and bored locals. Maybe he went to recruit someone else for his gopher-job or whatever he wanted to hire them to do. Maybe he wanted them to be low-level dealers of some kind.
She couldn't worry about possible troubles. She had enough on her mind like work and paying bills. Already running late, Finity forgot her work apron, so she turned around to fetch it from her apartment. She cursed herself for being so absentminded. It was bad enough that her uniform was wrinkled, but she hated ironing. At least, she just had to grab the darn thing from the table by the door. She always put things in the same place.
Angrily plodding along, she didn't notice the creeping shadow. It leapt toward her. Just then she felt a tap on her shoulder, making her cringe. She spun around and saw an elderly man squinting at her. He was short and slightly sunburned. Though he didn't appear to constitute a threat, he startled her. She took a step back.
"Do you have the time?" he asked, looking every part the tourist dressed in long socks and sandals with bright shorts and a Hawaiian tee-shirt.
She just shook her head and walked away from him. She didn't like people. She was already late, so she sprinted. Before she rounded the corner, a figure jumped out from behind a car, almost causing her to trip. She recognized him at once and she froze.
"So there you are. How did you enjoy my money and my beer?" the convulsive man snarled. She wondered if he had a neurological disorder. Maybe too much former drug use, she considered.
Dazed, Finity couldn't move or speak. She forgot how to formulate words. She didn't even budge.
"You're coming with me," he said.
He grabbed her hair, not caring who saw, pulling her closer. She tried to scream, but he forcefully covered her mouth with one hand and gripped her neck with his arm. His large silver ring bruised her upper lip. The pain on those nerves was intense. Freddie could have rendered her unconscious with an upward strike of that area. But he didn't want to lug around a comatose body in broad daylight. He quickly led her over to his Cadillac, threw her inside, and told her she'd pay.
This couldn't be happening, she told herself. Shock took over, and she lost her ability to reason. Her eyes darted, trying to find an answer to her dilemma, but all she felt was all encompassing jeopardy. He took off so fast she was nearly thrown against the windshield. When she regained her balance, she tried to open the door, but he snatched her by the arm. She didn't like being touched, and she wrestled with him. She nearly bit him so he jumped back and continued driving. She sighed with relief when he let go. But it wasn't over.
He said, "Sit still or I'll shoot."
She saw a bulge under his long silk shirt, so she didn't doubt him. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she heard a voice relaying old tales along with the warning: "assassins always wear baggy clothes and carry small guns." His shirt was thin and only kind of loose and that gun didn't look that small to her.
"I shoot thieves in the knee caps," he warned. He wiped the corner of his mouth and tilted his head. He then returned his weasel eyes to her. She didn't budge.
"Are you going to kill me?"
"Maybe."
Just then, two black Lincoln town cars surrounded his.
Crotchety old men motioned to him from the windows, and he didn't seem happy. They signaled to him again, so he parked by the curb, cursing under his breath. Scared, he ordered her to be quiet. She squirmed, and eyed the irritable figures. Maybe they were worse than him. She didn't want to find out.
Finity sank in her seat as a man who looked like an undertaker stood near her door, while two large men went to the driver's side. They loomed over the car, and she noticed one huge arm with the tattoo of a shovel along with the initials S.B. She covered her eyes, not wanting to face anymore of the nightmare. She banged her head against the seat, over and over. She hoped they'd be gone when she opened her eyes.
They weren't.
"Big Sal," Freddie said, trying to act casual, "How are you?"
"Cut the BS. Where is my money? Lou and Joey are getting antsy. They don't like it when I have to be called, know what I mean?"
"Well, I'm taking care of that right now, as a matter of fact. This little bitch and her boyfriend stole a hundred, but
I'm heading out now to get it back."
Big Sal leaned in the car, stared at Finity and laughed. His large body shook. He held onto the car for support.
"She scammed you?" and he laughed some more. "Hey, boys, Princess scammed Fast Freddie!"
"Princess?" Freddie asked with a look of fear on his face.
"Hey, boss, I didn't know."
Big Sal shrugged. Memories seemed to put him into a good mood.
"Her Mom and I go way back. Yeah, Darlene was a dynamo. She later married Bob, a lowlife, who met with some concrete workers." He backed away a bit, and pulled Freddie hard against him. "Princess is mildly autistic or something, but still family if you know what I mean. She can learn some of the business, maybe become a Bright Eyes or something. She won't understand anyway. Good kid, and got spunk too. She scammed you, hah! Must be the genes. She's a looker too."
"Yeah, she got me."
"Don't get her in no trouble, hear? It would make me proud if the two of yous got married one day."
Freddie said, "Whoa on the marriage. I'll keep an eye on the kid and let my boys know to lay off. She's a bird in a cage."
Big Sal smiled and blew a kiss at Finity before he and his associates backed off. They climbed back into their cars still laughing and sped away just as fast as they had arrived. Finity smelled burned rubber. She closed the window to avoid the smell, which amused him, considering the situation. Then she turned to him, wondering, What now? She wasn't sure if she was free to go.
She stared at Freddie who finally said, "Sorry, kid. Can I buy you a burger or something? We're cool. Forget about the beer and money. It was a test. You have guts. If you ever want a job, talk to Fast Freddie. If you need protection, I'm your man. Got it?"
Finity nodded and said, "Can I have that burger now?"
Despite her sore lip and her shaken state, she was hungry, and money was tight. And she'd probably be fired from her job. They grabbed some sandwiches at the drive thru down the street and then he escorted her home.
Freddie gazed at the apartment building, known as a drug haven. He figured she probably had no idea what went on late at night. All the street thugs came out, and he therefore had to make his presence known. The Latin and Russian mafia hadn't taken a hold of that particular area yet, so Freddie knew his bosses would be pleased, even though Filipino and Vietnamese gangs were on the rise. However, they seemed to prefer knives and hand-to-hand combat unless they got really mad. Then they pulled out the automatics.
There was a constant war for limited resources, and the
Asian Triads always posed a threat, though most organized
Tongs were stationed up north or out west. Nevertheless, Sal was strictly old school, a wiseguy who shunned the spotlight, more wary than reckless. He respected the importance of "Omerta," or silence that he vowed. And he preferred simple gambling and extortion as opposed to the illegal nuclear arms trade of the Russians, especially since the FBI was hotly pursuing that area. Yeah, Freddie preferred Sal's style to the flashier families who succumbed to the trap of celebrity.
Freddie walked Finity to her apartment. This time he made sure he found her residence in case he needed to know where it was. It was in a cool place, right in the middle of the resort strip along with all its little shops and entertainment, though it had its dark side too.
"Do you really want to live here? I can get you a better place."
"I want to live on Elm Street."
"Yeah," Freddie laughed, wondering if she was joking about his name or if there really was such a place around there. "Well, go tell your dad. I can't work miracles, but I can find something decent."
"My dad is dead. He disappeared years ago. I don't know what happened to him."
Freddie thought about what she said for a moment and then told her, "Sorry, kid."
He meant it.
Finity returned to her thoughts. Freddie stared at her. She seemed disconnected from the world. Sirens went by, people argued, and horns honked, but Finity watched the neon lights, barely registering half of what went on. That would come in handy for her survival, especially as a defective and illegitimate pup in a circle of rivalry infested families.