Fort Pilsner, South Carolina.
There’s nothing here but a basic small-town vibe with good old southern charm. I hate it.
But the chances of mobsters replaceing me here are slim to none. That’s the beauty of it all. I have to say that the vast amount of space with clusters of trees makes it feel like Central Park without the hurry-up-and-go anxiety Manhattan crushes your soul with. The air is fresh and birds chirp. There’s the constant static of bugs and everyone here has a warm smile.
They all speak to you without provocation and expect you to exchange the same pleasantries. It’s immediate to everyone here that I’m from New York and they all ask the same question, ‘How did you end up in Pilsner?’
Frankie’s dreadfully uncomfortable as he helps me unpack into a two-bedroom ranch-style home that I rent from a sweet older woman. I work with a local construction company, or rather, the only construction company that was in desperate need of an office manager.
It’s still hard for me to believe that we stumbled onto this place by stopping for gas off I95. A Help Wanted sign and two interviews later, I’m moving into a home that smells like apple pie and summer nights. Not New York summer nights that are full of firecrackers and fire hydrants spraying water like a community water attraction for the neighborhood kids.
Fort Pilsner is the kind of place you could see your babies running around trying to catch fireflies. Barbecue and laughter floats in the air, but there’s not a beach in sight. We’re inland as they like to call it.
All in all, we spent two weeks at a motel before replaceing this place, and it’s half the cost of my rent in Queens with three times the space, a yard, and a porch swing.
‘This is quiet, honey. I don’t think I could make it out here,’ Frankie says as he puts my last box in the master bathroom.
‘I’m looking forward to the peace, the quiet, the lack of people trying to kidnap me.’
‘So happy you have a sense of humor about it. I do have a completely random question though.’
‘What’s that?’ I ask him.
‘How are you feeling, lady bits wise?’
I squint my eyes waiting for clarity. ‘Lady bits? Really?’
He huffs, in such a matter-of-fact tone, telling me, ‘We normally get together at least once a month for our thank-God-we’re-not-pregnant gab and snack fest. We didn’t do that last month.’
‘Yeah, well, Caputo had his claws into my parents and I wasn’t in the mood.’
‘Completely understandable. And then you met Don Barrone. He ‘Kick in the door wavin’ the forty-four,’’ Frankie repeats the Notorious B.I.G. lyrics from the song Kick in the Door with a slight bop that gets a laugh out of me.
‘Yeah. Val was definitely unhinged for that, and?’
‘And then you spent a few weeks with me, two weeks here, and still no thank-God-we’re-not-pregnant gab and snack fest? Are you paying attention?’
My mind goes blank and then spirals.
‘Ah, you’re mathing right now, I can see it in your eyes. Is there a bun in the oven?’ he asks.
I gulp. ‘No?’
Frankie purses his lips. ‘I’m going to shoot over to CVS and get a few things to be sure. Not to mention, there’s no products here, no Kotex, Always, nothing that you typically use. So, I was a bit curious and decided to poke your brain a bit. Glad to see that you can see what I see now.’
I look down at my stomach.
‘Girl, stop. That’s not what I meant. You don’t look pregnant. I was just saying that I saw it’s been a while since your last shark week. I’ll be back. Maybe it’s just stress. I heard that’s a thing, but what do I know? I’m just a boy in love with himself.’
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
No.
Don’t fuck. That’s why you’re in this mess now.
Am I pregnant? Could I be?
I start doing the math and it’s been at least six weeks since my last period. No condoms and fuck! I don’t even remember the last time I took my pills. There’s been so much chaos in my life that I didn’t think about it. I let it slip because my routine is no longer in place.
I don’t get up every morning to eat my yogurt parfait and fruit salad, so I can stay light and leave room for the huge lunch we’d order at the construction site. Whatever the boys don’t eat, I snack on for the rest of the day.
I miss those guys already. I don’t know when I sit down on the couch, but I’m in the same sitting position when Frankie returns. Bags in hand.
‘I did get you some lady products just in case it is stress, or drugs, or whatever, but in case it’s not, I bought like fifteen pregnancy tests. Care to take one now?’
‘No, I don’t want to take one. I don’t want to know,’ I admit.
‘Well, unlike my parking tickets, this is something you can’t ignore. Lia, I love you, but please take the tests. I want to know in case I have to hang around and help out. We don’t need you being ‘A single mom who works two jobs, who loves her kids and never stops,’’ he sings the Reba theme song, I’m a Survivor.
‘Why are you in a Broadway mood singing about my life?’
‘Honey, it’s entertainment at its finest. I mean, think about it. Take yourself out of your shoes for a moment and look at this spectacular presentation. It’s the greatest show on earth right now. You’re pregnant by a mob boss who stole you from another mob boss that was extorting your parents and forced them into witness protection after you got kidnapped. Girl, I am gagged to see the season finale.’
‘Fuck you, Frankie.’ I laugh. ‘This is my life.’
‘Exactly. You are liv-ing.’ He snaps his fingers. ‘You see what happens when you lose your virginity? Your once boring life is now a fuckin’ telenovela. I can’t. Come on. Don’t sulk. Valentino is going to be a great father. Look at how protective he was over you.’
‘Fuck, no, Frankie. I can’t tell him about this. He’ll lock me away in his beach house again.’
‘Oh no that sounds horrible,’ he says mockingly. ‘Put me in a house on the beach in the Hamptons and throw away the fucking key. No bills, plenty of food, wine, and a fine ass man who wants to hide you from the world. Those are pretty girl, first-world problems to complain about. Don’t look at the downside of your freedom being taken away, because let’s be real for one second. You weren’t exactly locked away. You found your way to me pretty easily, which means, freedom.’
‘You’re right, but the danger—’
He cuts me off. ‘The danger of you being in New York is way different than the danger of having a man’s baby and not ever giving him the option to be included or excluded. That’s fucked up, Lia. What if something happens to you and I’m not here? God knows where Zio and Zia are. The feds have them locked up tighter than a king’s virgin daughter in a chastity belt.’
‘Not funny.’
‘It was, but I know, time and place for everything. Still, are you scared that Valentino wants you along with all of the chaos that’s unfolded since you two met? It’s kind of scary when a complete stranger just loves you right away and wants to take care of you? Kind of like a cousin from a different country that helps you learn English the way New Yorkers talk and defends you from people who don’t understand you.’
I nearly balk at the correlation. ‘That’s not the same, Frankie. We’re family.’
He reaches over to rub my belly. ‘And if I’m right, which we both know I probably am, you and Valentino are going to be a family too. I’m not saying roll out the red carpet for him to come blow another door off the hinges. I’m saying just let him know. You can even tell him that you’re staying here to keep away from the New York drama with that other mob boss. But, if you don’t want to tell him because you feel it’s too dangerous, I’ll respect that too. I don’t like it, but I’ll respect it.’
‘Thank you, Frankie. I’m going to tell him. Shit, my phone’s been switched off.’
Frankie shakes his head. ‘Don’t do that. Valentino Barrone is the C-E-motherfuckin’-O of Barten Security. You can reach him if you want to. If it truly is a matter of safety, you know he’s one of the best on this planet to do that. Shit, we should have talked to him before we came out here to Pilsner.’
‘He would have followed us and there would probably be drones circling.’
‘And? The man wants to keep you safe. The man wants to love you, but I get it that too much too fast doesn’t seem real. I’m not one to talk, but I got your back no matter what you want to do.’
And just like that, my world changed … again.
Frankie doesn’t stay in Pilsner too long, a few weeks at the most before he hits the road for more urban pastures. Country living isn’t the peace he’s looking for. We speak often and as the weeks turn into months, I can’t ignore the changes happening to my body.
Life isn’t hard, but it’s not the easiest being alone, and I want to go back to New York. The people out here are friendly, but I don’t consider anyone a friend truthfully. I’m cordial and smile every day as people offer to do the most menial tasks once they see my pregnancy showing. Again, grateful for the kindness, but deeply missing real friendships. I didn’t have many friends in New York, but Frankie, my parents, hell, even Pattie all had their roles in my life.
Meeting Valentino, I could have easily made friends with his sister. That’s where our relationship was heading before I left him that letter. I worry about him, think about him, wonder how he’s doing. Every time I pick up the phone to call him or text, I put it down.
Now, with the eight months that have gone by, it seems ridiculous to just call him out of the blue for casual chitchat. What would I say to him?
‘Sorry I split, oh and by the way, I’m having your baby. Sorry I didn’t tell you, but I was scared the mob boss who tried to have me kidnapped would replace out I wasn’t really dead. Now Caputo can try to kill me and your baby. So how’s things?’ The words sound just as ridiculous out loud as they do in my head.
The fluttering motion of a jab from the inside of my body reminds me that I’m not alone. I take several deep breaths, rubbing my stomach to ease our little baby girl’s frantic movements. She doesn’t care. I imagine I’d be fed up too if someone tried keeping me in a space the size of a mailbox.
I’m barely to the thirty-four-week mark in my pregnancy when my phone rings, a video chat from the only person in the world who knows I’m alive and pregnant with Don Valentino Barrone’s baby.
‘Hey, hey, hey!’ Frankie’s excitement is contagious. ‘Guess where I am?’
He pans the phone around and at first I have no idea until I spot the infamous potholders and matching olive oil canisters.
‘When did you get back?’ I ask him.
‘A few weeks ago. It was such a pain in the ass trying to get Jake to get the fuck out of here. I almost had to take him to court. But when I told him that my cousin is married to the mob, he didn’t even blink. He moved out in the middle of the night.’
‘Wow, married to the mob?’
‘Sorry, love, you gotta use what you got. And you’re all I’ve got. I need you to come back home.’
‘I am home,’ I tell him, waving to the humid living room around me.
‘No, you know what I mean. Come back to the city. No one’s even talking about Mafia stuff and that icky feeling of having someone follow me around is gone. I really think they’ve all forgotten about you. The news cycle is literally fifteen minutes. Besides, aren’t you ready to pop that baby out? Come home. Stay with me. I’ll do the room up real nice for you and the baby. You can get a bunch of those single-parent benefits and help me with bills and whatnot until I get back to lead dancer at Zollo’s.’
‘How about I come for a visit because I miss pizza and the smell of fresh cement mixing with the stench of New York City rush hour every morning?’
‘Whatever gets your pretty little ass up here, Lia. Just come okay? I have a surprise for you too, so don’t freak out and like have your water break. I’m trying to prepare you,’ he laughs.
‘Okay, I’m prepared. What’s the surprise?’ I ask him.
‘I bought you something that you’re going to need and that’s all I’m going to say. Do you want to fly, drive, or what? I’ll pay for your tickets.’
‘The train is actually closest to me.’
Frankie gets all the details and arranges everything for me to make a quick visit to New York before I have this baby. I don’t remember the last time I was this excited about anything. But going back to a city where a gangster ruined my life … ?
It’s funny, though, a gangster saved my life too.
I wonder if I can see Valentino. Fuck. Shit. Nope. I can’t. I still haven’t told him about this baby. He’ll probably fly off the handle and think it’s someone else’s. Like I’ve been fucking around and replaceing out all the spectacular ways sex can change my life after fleeing the city I love.
What if this is a mistake?
I can’t worry about that. I’m not happy in Pilsner. Even if I need a quick dive into the cesspool of New York as a reminder of why it’s not the place for me to be, I’ll take it just to have a glimpse of joy again. Pilsner is fine for regular people with regular lives that like to stick to their routine.
The crazy thing about that is that’s what I want. I just want to be back home in New York. I pack my bags and spend the next few days wondering if I’m going to accidentally run into Valentino. I absolutely won’t. In all of my twenty-three years living in New York, we never crossed paths, not once. So we definitely won’t bump into each other at a coffee spot or restaurant. I’m counting on that.
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