▪️Five Years Later▪️
•SAN FRANCISCO, CALIFORNIA•
Julia's POV
"Ms. Rivers! I can't find my umbrella!" a high-pitched youthful voice cried from across the elementary school classroom.
"Did you check your cubby Liliana?" I hurriedly fumbled over the last button on one of my student's pea-coat and tossed a glance to Liliana who was ripping all the contents out of her book bag.
The young boy in front of me stood patiently as I undid a crossed button and paired it with its matching loop.
"I can't find it! My mom just bought it for me!" she stomped her feet and crossed her arms.
We peeked in the girl's book bag. "We'll find it, sweetheart. C'mon, calm down."
I held Liliana's chin gently before strolling over to the student's cubbies only to come up short.
"Liliana Penning to the car lane," the classroom intercom announced as I searched around the last table.
We threw the scattered items back into her book bag and I grabbed a sticky note from my desk.
"Here, honey, give this to your mother. We'll try to find it when you come back, okay?"
Liliana's hand clasped around mine as we walked to the door, the little girl still tirelessly scanning before walking out defeated.
As I reached for the doorknob one last little boy buzzed past me and out of the room.
"Bye Ms. Rivers!" he yelled, his Captain America bookbag bouncing on his back.
"Bye, sweety." I chuckled and closed the door.
Slowly, pieces of residual green and yellow construction paper disappeared from my floor, and I made my way to the leather desk chair.
A deep sigh escaped my slightly chapped parted lips, and my eyes slid closed. Another week down—sixteen to go. My limbs had just gotten comfortable—almost asleep—when there was a brisk knock on the door. My eyes shot open as I heard the bottom of the door brush against the carpet.
"-yeah. I wish they had pizza more." A small familiar voice explained.
"Any kind of pizza? Even with pineapple?" An older voice, belonging to Jacob Wimble, asked.
"Ew. Mr. Wimble. Pineapple does not go with pizza."
I pushed myself away from the desk to see one of my friends and my son, Nicolai, coming through the door, too engaged in their conversation to acknowledge me.
"What are you two talking about?" I asked, leaning on a nearby shelf.
Jacob chuckled, "The new lunch menus."
"Ah." I nodded.
"Mommy, can we have pizza tonight?" Nicolai leaned his body against my aching legs and rested his chin on my knees.
"No, Polpetta. That's the fifth night in a row," I explained while holding myself up with one hand and stroking his loose curls with the other.
Nicky has never been lacking in the hair department, and I used to keep it short. It was just more convenient. When he started school his face seemed to go through a metamorphosis, and his short haircut made him a spitting image of his father.
My hands coursed through his hair once more. I'd sacrifice convenience to have my son not look like that man any day.
"Nonno Stef lets me have it." He protested, squeezing my legs.
"Well, Nonno isn't in charge, I am." My voice elevated.
"But—" he tried to make his lip quiver.
"No means no Nicolai. Go start your homework. I need to talk to Mr. Wimble."
Nicolai glanced in Jacob's direction and smiled lightly.
"It's easy tonight buddy. Just drawing your family okay?"
Nicolai nodded and pushed himself from my legs, scooped his book bag from the floor, and sat at one of the kiddie round tables in the classroom.
I didn't like being hard on Nicky, but I've experienced firsthand what happens when someone goes their whole life getting their way and finally gets told no.
I sighed and returned to my desk as Jacob plopped his paint-stained jeans on the edge of my desk. I ran my hands over my face and spoke through my hands.
"How's he been doing?"
"He's been okay. I had the kids that were bullying him moved to another class. That seemed to help. He's getting a lot more creative."
I'd been a kindergarten teacher for about three years at Wellard Prep and Jacob was still the only person here that I trusted enough with part of my story and Nicolai's well-being.
There weren't many single mothers that had children in this school, but with the job they made a few exceptions. Jacob made sure I felt comfortable when we arrived. At first his intentions were unclear, but he assured me he understood the impact of a helping hand when everyone is too busy clutching their pearls. For that I was grateful.
"What about at home?"
My eyes broke their bond with Nicolai for a second to meet with Jacob's.
"He has good and bad days,"—I sighed—"he's still asking about his father....a lot more now since those kids."
"I'm really sorry about that Monroe. How many years has it been since his death again?"
A cold draining feeling ran over me as my lips pulled together, "Five years."
Jacob turned his attention back to Nick, "Give him time. I'm sure he'll be fine. Let me know what he draws. I'll put it with his file."
I sat quiet, my eyes fixed in front of me.
"Monroe? Roe?" Jacob called and reached out to me.
I jerked my arm away and glared at my friend, "What?"
"I said, I'll put what he draws in his file."
"Oh, yeah. Okay, thanks J."
Jacob smiled gently and punched his thigh lightly. "Welp, I'd better get going. I have a ton of work to take home with me."
A smirk curled my smile and my eyes locked on to his paint stained pants. "You mean disinfecting brushes and cleaning the floor from orange paint?"
He rolled his eyes and walked backward towards Nicolai. "Maybe. Maybe I'll be putting more orange paint on somebody tonight."
"Such a waste of paint," I replied as I scrunched my face up and giggled.
Jacob ruffled Nicky's curls and winked. "Not when I use it. See you buddy."
I grabbed my purse from the floor and shooed my friend towards the door.
"Get away from my child with your nastiness before you taint him."
He laughed, sticking his tongue out and wiggling it, "You know about that too, don't act like you don't know girl."
"Say goodbye to Mr.Wimble, Nicky," I called out loudly and Jacob put his tongue back as Nicolai turned around and waved.
"Put your stuff away Polpetta. Mommy's got a meeting."
"Yeah me too." Jacob joked as he did a few pelvic thrusts towards the door.
"Goodbye Jacob!" I chuckled while shaking my head while he exited the room.
I did my final visual sweep of the room as Nicolai made his way to the door with me. We locked up and started down the hallway towards the parking lot.
My mind recounted Jacob's empathetic smile when I pulled away from him. It must've been obvious I carried more than I lead on, but things were still fragile. The risk of spilling the tea for an hour of gratification could endanger him or me and Nicky.
As we exited the school, the afternoon sun hid behind thick clouds and brought a harsh wind past us.
I lifted Nicky in my arms and jogged to the car. Carefully, I buckled him in and hopped into the front seat, while taking advantage of the downtime as the car heated up.
"Mommy?"
"Yes, baby?"
"Why would Mr.Wimble paint somebody?", Nicolai asked, looking at me with his big chestnut eyes through the rearview mirror.
I squeezed my lids together.
I'm going to kill Jacob.
"H-he was just joking Nicky. He'd wouldn't put paint on someone. That wouldn't be nice."
"Why?"
"Why what baby?" I finally shifted the car out of park and pulled out of the parking lot, heading home.
"Why—" he began but was cut off by a loud ringing coming from my purse.
"Hold on Nick, that might be my appointment calling." I rambled and pulled over to answer.
The caller ID was unknown and I picked up immediately.
"Rivers."
The smooth, deep familiar voice gave a throaty chuckle.
"Six months later and you're still saying that?"
My mouth was tugged by both ends as I broke out into a big smile.
"Well, yeah. Would you prefer I used another name, Andres?"
Another velvety chuckle passed through the receiver, "How are you, Julia?"
"Managing. You?" The words fell bluntly.
"Dying a little every day."
My toes curled at the thought of the aftermath my "death" caused. There are still times when I wonder if my ex killing me himself would have made a difference.
"I'm just happy you're safe Jules. I think it's the only thing keeping me going. How's Nicky?"
My heart twinged at the warm words and I sniffled a bit, glancing back at my son who had found a Todoroki action figure on the seat and was happily playing.
"He's been getting picked on by some dumb kids, but he's making it," I say softly, knowing exactly how Andres would react.
"Picked on.....?" His voice hardened and I could feel his protectiveness through the phone.
Andres was my savior; he treated Nick and me like precious cargo no matter where we went. Any threat to us, physical and emotional, he did everything in his power to assure us it would be handled.
"It's fine Andres, really. Just some snotty kids that don't know any better. He's okay."
Andres got quiet. So quiet that I thought he hung up.
"Hello?"
"I'm here Jules. I'll have to go soon." Andres said, his voice now stable.
"Tonight right?" I spoke quickly.
"Sì Tesoro. See you then." I could hear him smile.
I smiled too before hearing three beeps letting me know the call ended and I returned my phone to my purse.
"How about McDonald's?" I asked, my voice carrying to the backseat.
Nicolai's head nearly flew off his body as he looked at me, eyes wide open.
"Yay!"
"Yay, indeed baby boy. Yay, indeed." I mumbled to myself as I pulled back onto the street and continued driving.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
•PRINCETON, NEW JERSEY•
Andres' POV
"Perché diavolo non è stato fatto? Vuoi mantenere il tuo pene? Comportati come allora!"
My older brother's ear-splitting voice and cutting words spliced through the peace that lasted all of one phone conversation.
I tucked my phone away in my pocket and pushed myself out of the deep-set chestnut-colored leather chair. My hands continually shuffled papers as I neared my desk.
I just finished organizing a stack of our rival families' financial records when Adrian stormed through the door, nearly knocking the hinges off.
"Idioti!" My brother's eyebrows knitted together as he pulled the cigarette from his lips, letting a faint puff of smoke fly from them.
I hated when he smoked in my office, but getting him to stop would be going to war, and I was trying to keep a low profile. Handling the finances of the family afforded me the luxury of hiding monthly withdraws, but lately Adrian had been looking for anything to be wrong. It just seemed easier to pick my battles carefully.
I sat on the edge of the desk watching the unwelcome guest from the corner of my eye.
Adrian slammed the door and continued ranting under his breath, "... when I'm Don, I'm cleaning house! You hear me?!"
He pointed the butt of the cigarette at me and poured himself a glass of scotch from my minibar.
I sighed and uncrossed my ankles. If he was going to stay for a drink I knew I was going to need one too. I cruised to the bar and followed suit. After placing an ice cube in; I took a sip.
"You sound stupid. What would that solve? Tell me, how's that beneficial for us?"
"Who are you talking to?" —he slammed his glass down— "when I need advice from you, I'll let you know. Until then, shut up!"
He snarled then downed the rest of his scotch and I rolled my eyes nonchalantly.
I had stopped taking anything Adrian said to heart years ago, even more so since Julia left. I didn't doubt that most of what he said now was just coming from a hurt and maybe guilty place. When he got the news of her 'death', it took an act of God to keep Adrian from killing himself. We aren't religious by any means, but for an entire two years, we spent time as a family praying to a God that would probably smite us and feed us to our victim's families as retribution.
My eyes followed my brother's sloppy movements as he shuffled to my desk. "Are these the records?"
"Yeah." I nodded.
He glanced at me, which was the most eye contact I'd get except during meetings with our father. Adrian carefully flipped through the documents; his eyes meticulously gliding over every line on each page.
Our family, the Mancini, and the Russo family have had a history of territory war. It's been relatively peaceful for the past ten years. When my granddad, Carmine, was Don, he struggled to keep us on top. Him, my father, and two uncles fought tooth and nail to secure territory in Southern California, Northern Jersey, and Manhattan.
Not to mention, since the death of our most trusted accountant almost 15 years ago, Terrance Ricks, my father has had horrible trouble finding someone else as good and loyal as him. After our replacement and a prison scare, my father decided to groom me for financial lead. Killed two birds with one stone—a useful son and a protected business.
Adrian finally reached the last sheet of records and shook the crunched paper in his hand at me as he looked to the ceiling.
"Russo is still siphoning from the Mancini's off-shore account!"
"I know. I told Pop, but we still haven't figured out what discord between Mancini and Russo, and Giuseppe Mancini won't agree to a sit-down."
Adrian gritted his teeth, "Giuseppe's going to hold that grudge to the grave, huh? Well, we'll see how willing he is to negotiate when his daughter starts losing limbs."
He scoffed and balled up the record.
I watched it fall to the floor as Adrian stepped over it and paced back and forth.
"We worked hard to get peace between all our families. Why would you disturb that?" I squinted my eyes and set my glass down on the edge of my desk.
"Peace!?" He scoffed, "they weren't peaceful when they killed Terrance. Or maybe they were peaceful when they killed our mother in front of our faces?"
A cold, empty expression captured Adrian's face, "...or when they murdered...."
His fingertips firmly pressed into his palms as his hands balled into fists.
"They can have peace when they are dead. Go get her. She's in Chicago with friends. We can begin negotiations tomorrow."
Adrian glanced my way before stalking to the door and leaving. I stepped to the crumbled piece of paper and straightened out the creases. My wrist flipped, revealing the gold-plated face of my watch.
6:13
I had about an hour before I needed to be in the air to meet Julia in San Diego. If I timed everything right, I could meet her and get our guys to Chicago to snatch Giuseppe's daughter before morning.
After making a phone call to a couple of friends, I locked up my office and headed to my room to pack my overnight bag.
A/N: Fun fact: I'm no good at doing author's notes, so if I get comments, I'll most likely reply to those. Anyway, how do you feel about Julia, oops, I mean Monroe? Let me know. Let me knoooowww haha.