Chapter 31
Warning for angst and gun violence.
I'll be waiting for you, even if it takes you all of your life.
I'll be waiting for you, 'till you know within yourself that you are so divine.
Baby...baby, I know what you want from you.
Can you see me? I'm divinity, and I can mean so much to you.
You're like the moon, you're like the stars, you're like the sun.
It'll more than just a lifetime to understand where we are.
So patience is nothing...
'Cause I'll do anything for you.
"I'll Be Waiting for You"
PM Dawn
3 months.
Stay calm. Only silly men are ruled by impatience, and silly men end up dead.
It had been 3 months since he arrived and as he watched the calendar inching towards Thanksgiving, he felt impatience creeping into his bones.
On the one hand things were going well. He was well established on the job and well liked. While his co-workers found his constant silence strange, they appreciated his willingness to cover extra shifts and help out whenever or wherever necessary. Of course, this was strategic on his part. His helpfulness allowed him to learn every entrance, stairwell and the location of every security camera in the entire building. The security guards grew used to seeing him throughout the building so they didn't question his presence on floors beyond 8-13.
The problem was how to smuggle in a weapon.
They passed through metal detectors every morning and within other sections of the building. The security cameras made hiding things nearly impossible, but he had identified a few blind areas that might work.
He'd even made it into Chartussi's office a few times. Usually to drop off a package that had required additional security screening or to bring up a meal from the kitchen when the serving staff was busy. Those moments were valuable for the opportunity to get a look at Chartussi's office layout but they were also the most difficult. Being so close yet unable to strike was frustrating.
Increasingly it was becoming apparent that he would either have to steal a weapon from one of the guards or create a weapon out of something located in the building. A knife from the kitchen was beginning to look like a good possibility, but a knife meant getting up close and personal. He could be shot while trying to stab which meant he would need to take out some of the guards before attacking Chartussi.
He decided he would have to get creative.
B&NYC&B
Every other week he had a check in at a different diner in the city. With the exception of when he first arrived, all the meetings had been visual check ins. He'd sit at the counter sipping coffee and his contact from the Bethenson twins would sit one or two seats down and have a slice of pie. If a newspaper wasn't placed on the counter there was nothing to communicate and they would each leave separately without speaking or making eye contact.
At that Thursday's check in he wrote a simple message in the paper.
Vial of arsenic.
Two weeks later he finished his coffee and walked out taking a rolled newspaper with him. He didn't unfurl it until he was safe in his hotel room. A rather large vial of arsenic was inside along with a note.
30 minutes for symptoms to appear. 24 hours to 4 days to 2 weeks until death depending on how much is given. He's fat so it could be 2 weeks.
He appreciated the information, but the arsenic wasn't for Chartussi. That would be too easy. He was determined the final death blow come from him.
And he wanted Chartussi to know it.
B&NYC&B
Monday morning, he strategically placed himself in the kitchen and watched the kitchen manager, Karen Marquiles rushing around trying to prepare the various breakfast orders for the different companies who had offices in the building. In setting up his offices, Chartussi had geniusly hid in plain sight. The building was a mixed-use operation. There were offices for legitimate businesses that had no idea they were sharing space with a criminal enterprise, two floors of upscale apartments rented mostly by overseas businessmen while in the US on business, and a restaurant on the ground floor. The setup gave Chartussi an upscale base of operations in the heart of Manhattan while also providing a level of protection from his enemies who didn't want to bomb a building with so many innocent people.
"Morning, Karen."
"Morning, morning."
"You look stressed."
"You know how Mondays are. People not showing up from too much weekend partying. Every damn business in the building having Monday morning meetings requiring breakfast. Wish somebody would meet with me and feed me breakfast."
"I'm heading up to the 13th floor. Happy to deliver anything up there for you."
Karen paused and surveyed the trays in front of her. "I do have coffee and a pastry tray for Mr. Bigshot's goons along with tea for his majesty. Sure you don't mind?"
"Not at all."
As he got off the elevator the guard gave him an amused look.
"You ain't cleaning no more? Moving up in the world?"
"Just helping out. Didn't want you guys getting hungry."
He set the coffee pot and pastry tray down on the desk located across from the entrance to Chartussi's office and then steered the cart towards the door. The guard opened the door and he entered.
Chartussi was sitting behind his huge desk talking on the phone.
"Yeah, yeah. Well tell him he'd better get his shit together, you hear me? Tell that fucker if he's late again, I'll chop his balls off." Chartussi let out a huge wave of laughter.
He carefully set the teapot on the desk along with the cup, saucer, spoon and a separate plate of Danish. Chartussi paid him no attention.
Whenever he was in the office he scanned the room and tried to memorize details. There was a private bathroom, a closet, and another door that he was sure led to a back way out of the room. He figured that was going to be his best bet for actually accessing the room and hiding until the right moment, but he hadn't been able to figure out where it might lead or how to get in on the other side.
He never lingered long when inside the office. He didn't want to call attention to himself or have Chartussi notice him, but on this particular morning he took his time hoping to notice something that would help with his mission and renew his patience. He scanned the bookshelves filled with business books. Two shelves held rows of binders. The windows looked like they would slide open easily. No bars, but that wasn't helpful since they were on the 13th floor. His eyes roamed up and noticed a large air vent.
Interesting.
He carefully maneuvered the cart out of the room. One of the guards raised a cup of coffee to him.
"Appreciate it."
He nodded and headed down the hallway, head lowered to hide his smile.
B&NYC&B
It took him another two weeks to find access to one of the air vents. He couldn't risk someone seeing him so he came back late one evening near closing time for the restaurant. He entered the restaurant and walked straight through the dining room, into the kitchen and to a back storage room. At closing time, the staff usually enjoyed a meal together before beginning the cleaning and closing process for the night. He figured he had about 30 minutes to explore. Using a stepstool he was able to reach the vent, unscrew the bolts and climb through. He was grateful for his lean build. Telio would have never fit.
After a few minutes of crawling he realized a problem. The air ducts were like a maze. There were paths leading everywhere to several rooms, plus this vent layout was only for the first floor. He had no idea if there was a way to access the other floors.
As he rode the train back to the hotel it hit him.
At that Thursday's diner check-in he left a newspaper for his contact.
Blueprints of the building.
Lucian St. Mark wasn't a mobster, but he was a criminal. Born and raised in Miami, he learned very early the difference between the haves and the havenots so he set out early to make sure he would always have.
By age 15 he was a trusted drug delivery boy for one of the key dealers of the Cambio drug cartel. He rode his bike all over the Miami business district delivering drugs to high-powered attorneys, accountants, physicians, and other prominent business men. Between the money he was paid by the dealer, and the tips from the businessmen who appreciated his service and discretion, he was able to buy his first property at age 19 – a house in a nice neighborhood for his family.
After high school, Lucian took real estate classes at the local community college and with the financial help of his cartel friends began buying real estate. He started with small strip malls he could quickly turn around and make profitable, allowing him to pay back all the money lent to him by the cartel. He knew how they operated and was determined not to be held hostage his entire life. Once the money was paid back, he moved on to larger commercial properties eventually becoming a major developer. He was careful but also a risk taker, often taking on properties no one else would touch. His risk taking paid off and by age 35, St. Mark Development was a major real estate player across Florida.
Lucian wasn't stupid. The power of the drug cartels in Florida was strong and given their initial help he knew they would eventually come calling despite the fact that he'd paid them all off. So, he came up with a way to keep them out of his business affairs while still paying his respect. He allowed the cartels to store drugs in certain properties free of charge. Warehouses owned by the cartels were an immediate red flag for law enforcement and constantly raided. Since Lucian was known as a legitimate businessman with no ties to the drug trade, his properties were completely off the radar of law enforcement. This arrangement kept the cartels happy and away from his core business.
This was how he first met Mario Anderson. One of the Anderson's Florida weapons smuggling routes ran straight through several of Lucian's waterfront warehouses. Lucian had a great deal of respect for Mario. Out of all the criminals he dealt with, Mario was the only one who insisted on paying market rate for the use of his warehouses. He also respected Mario's refusal to enter the drug game. Despite it being the way he got his start in life, Lucian hated the drug trade. He'd seen first-hand what it did to people and it fueled his decision to stay on the very peripheral edges of the business. He knew his hands weren't 100% clean, but at least he wasn't directly involved.
At least that's what he told himself.
A&L&A&L
Anastasia listened intently as Lucian described his humble beginnings and how he became rich. He was honest and unashamed. In fact, he was proud.
"So, do I sell drugs? No. Am I a criminal? Maybe. I honestly don't care. I owe them for helping me get a start in life. Let's face it. Who else would've loaned a 20-something kid hundreds of thousands of dollars with no collateral, no business history, nothing? Just determination and a dream."
"If things hadn't worked out they probably would have killed you."
Lucian watched her face closely. "String me up from the rafters of a barn, beat me until I choked on my blood, and then set me on fire? Maybe."
Anastasia didn't flinch or look away. "So, you are acquainted with my husband."
"Your husband's reputation was well known, but I liked him. I admired him. He didn't take shit from people, but he was just as fair and honest as he was ruthless. He murdered with purpose and for a reason. I understand that. I operate the same way."
Anastasia smiled. "I thought you said you were a legitimate businessman who simply had a questionable start."
"Doesn't mean I haven't murdered anyone."
Anastasia felt a hot thrill race through her chest.
"Have you ever murdered someone?"
"Of course. I said I wasn't a drug dealer. Doesn't mean I'm not a murderer."
Lucian's eyes were dark and flashed with a hint of bloodlust Anastasia recognized and knew so very well. He leaned forward and stared directly into her eyes.
"Is that a problem?"
"No. No problem at all."
As a matter of fact, I think I prefer it.
Kurt pushed his salad around his plate as he stared at Andrew and Ryan. They were sitting together across the dining hall. They'd been talking and laughing nonstop. Their chemistry and connection was so strong and vibrant, Kurt felt like he could actually see a soft warm glow around them.
Ugh.
He shifted and tried to pay attention to the conversation at his own table, but that turned out to be a hyper excited discussion about the first Dalton/Crawford Country Day school dance. Wes, David and Trent were going back and forth about what songs the Warblers should sing while everyone else was going on about girls.
Ugh.
Kurt returned to pushing salad around his plate. Maybe he should go back to McKinley. At least at McKinley he wouldn't have to stare at a lovey-dovey gay couple or listen to people rambling on about a stupid dance. Well, that probably wasn't true. Quinn was probably gearing up for her first step towards world domination as prom queen while Brittany was focused on some crazy prom theme. Hadn't Tina posted some rant on Facebook about dinosaurs?
"Hi Kurt."
Kurt looked up into the clear blue eyes of Timothy. He didn't say anything.
Timothy tightened his grip on his bag and strengthened his resolve.
"Um, can I sit down for a minute?"
Kurt remained silent. I'm not ready to forgive you, so go away.
Timothy sat down across from him. "Okay. Um…I know you hate me and…and that's okay. I just…I wanted to know about Blaine. I haven't seen him since school started, and…I just…I was worried. Is he okay?"
Timothy shrank back from the look of loathsome anger in Kurt's eyes.
"So, now you're concerned about Blaine? Really? Seriously? Are you kidding me?"
"I…yes. I'm concerned. I know how dangerous his life is and…"
"Yes, Timothy, his life is dangerous. Especially with friends like you."
Timothy stood up. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you all over again. I just wanted…never mind. I'm sorry." He turned to leave.
Kurt sighed. "He's fine. He's… taking care of things. He'll be back in January." I hope.
Timothy sat back down. "The construction company, or…you know."
"Let's just say both."
Timothy nodded. He closed his eyes and clenched his fists under the table.
He wanted a hit.
Needed a hit.
So fucking bad.
But he was determined. He thought about what his counselor told him. That the desire for the high might never go away and could even intensify when he felt sad or stressed. Cocaine had always been a way to relieve those feelings, even if only for a little while. Now he had nothing.
And he felt sad and stressed all the time.
Kurt was watching him. "Are you okay?"
Timothy opened his eyes and realized how he must have looked.
"Sorry. I just…it's really hard sometimes. I'm not using, but I'm still addicted."
Kurt felt renewed anger. "After everything that happened, you still want it?"
"Every minute of every day. It was my best friend. My only friend."
Kurt bit down on the comment sitting on his tongue. No, not your only friend. We were your friends and you sold us out.
Instead he rolled his eyes. "Some friend."
Timothy stared at the table. He could see three imaginary coke lines just waiting to make him feel better. "Yeah."
The tiny forgiveness spark reignited and flitted around Kurt's brain. Tell him you forgive him and that he should rejoin the Warblers.
Instead he stood up and picked up his tray. "Thanks for asking about Blaine."
He sat on the bed in his hotel room eating an apple and studying the blueprints. It took his contact three weeks of phone calls and well-placed bribes to get a copy from the NYC Department of Planning and Development. As he studied the layout of the building a plan began to form in his mind.
A week later he decided to run a test.
Thursday evening, he returned to the building near closing time for the restaurant. He stopped in the backroom to grab a stepstool and headed out the service door on to the main floor. From there he took the steps to the 8th floor. He was in great shape but lugging the stepstool up eight flights of stairs was difficult. He made a mental note that if this worked he'd have to hide it ahead of time.
He headed to the restroom. Standing on the stepstool allowed him to reach the vent. He removed the cover and hoisted himself up and inside. He crawled along the path he'd mapped out from the blueprints until he found what he was hoping for.
It was a wall space with climbing indentions like a ladder. It would allow him to climb up to the next floor. He snaked his way through the vents and up the climbing spaces until he reached the 13th floor. He got confused and turned around several times, but eventually he reached the vent to Chartussi's office.
The office was empty.
He sat still for several minutes trying to decide if he should take a chance and enter the office. It was after hours so no one was around, but that could change in a second. Chartussi rarely held evening meetings at the building, but it wasn't unheard of. Anyone could walk in at any moment.
Nothing ventured, nothing gained.
He quickly removed the vent cover and jumped down.
He headed straight towards the door he'd always figured was a getaway passage. He was shocked to find it was a bedroom. It had gold walls, a large beautifully made up king size bed with a gold comforter, and a large flat screen TV on the wall. It didn't look like anyone had ever slept there. There was a small bathroom, a closet and another door. He opened it and was thrilled to find that it was indeed a hidden passageway. It wasn't on the blueprints, but he'd figured Chartussi would never set up an office without a second way out.
The passageway was dark and smelled musty. As he slowly walked down the steps, dim motion sensor lights turned on. Each flight of steps was long and he figured they covered two floors at a time. At the bottom was another door. He listened for 10 minutes in hopes of being able to figure out where it led by the voices, but they didn't sound familiar. He decided not to push his luck by opening it.
The slog back up the stairs was exhausting. He actually spent a few minutes sitting in the gold bedroom to catch his breath. As he sat there it dawned on him that he could hide a gun in the room and Chartussi would probably never know. He checked the cabinet under the bathroom sink. It was empty. Perfect.
He decided it would be best to leave the same way he came. Since he didn't have a stepstool, he had to slide a small table over in order to reach the vent. He wondered if Chartussi would notice the small change or even realize someone had been in his office.
He finally made it back to the 8th floor bathroom. He returned the stepstool to the kitchen back room and headed out the delivery door.
By the time he reached the hotel he was exhausted but triumphant. As he fell asleep he smiled.
Two weeks.
The Dalton campus was buzzing with excitement about next Friday's dance. It was all anyone wanted to talk about.
Except Kurt.
The upcoming dance reminded him of a happier time when he and Blaine were still innocent and falling in love. When a trip to the mall for a new outfit ended in a fight about the gun in Blaine's bathroom and to Kurt learning the truth about Blaine's family.
And Blaine's insistence that he would never be a part of his family's business.
"I don't want any part of my family's business. I'm not a criminal and I never will be."
"So, you don't have anything to do with…anything?"
"No, I don't. That's my father's world, not mine. I promise. Nothing will happen to me. I don't get involved in my father's world. His world is not mine. My world is Dalton…and you."
Kurt almost felt embarrassed at how naïve he'd been. How naïve they'd both been.
But as the week of the dance arrived, Kurt renewed his promise to himself to focus on having a great senior year despite Blaine's absence.
And nothing made Kurt happier than having a project.
K&D&K&D
Tuesday during lunch, Kurt searched for his old roommate, Doug.
"Hi Doug."
"Hey, Kurt! How you doing?"
"I'm good. Can I talk to you for a minute?"
"Sure." Doug shoved the guy sitting next to him. "Move over."
Kurt was about to ask Doug if they could speak privately, but the guys at the table were busy rearranging themselves to make room while glancing curiously between Doug and Kurt. While Dalton's anti-bullying policy meant no one harassed students about being gay, it didn't mean homophobia had been banned from existence. Students just kept their comments to themselves or among their like-minded friends. While no one had ever said a word to him, he was sure some of the guys at the table were not fans.
Doug patted the space next to him. Kurt felt he had no choice but to sit down. Once he was settled, everyone at the table appeared ready to listen.
"Um, I didn't mean to interrupt your lunch."
"No problem. What's up?"
Kurt felt everyone at the table lean in.
"Uh, well, I was hoping you could help me find out something for this Friday's dance."
Doug furrowed his brown in confusion. "What do ya need to know?"
Kurt looked around the table nervously. He really hadn't planned on having this conversation so publicly.
"Um…well, are you currently seeing anyone? From Crawford! Are you seeing one of the girls from Crawford?"
There were muffled laughs around the table, but Doug didn't seem to care.
"I've been chatting with this girl named Ashley. We're not girlfriend/boyfriend, but…ya know. I'm working on it."
Kurt nodded encouragingly. "Okay. Great. Well, would you mind asking her if Alicia Wilder is planning to go?"
"Alicia?"
"Yes. Remember her? We all got coffee together last year?"
Doug nodded. "Yeah, I remember. Telio took his douche level to new heights that day."
"He's not a douche. He's just shy."
"Whatever. Why do you wanna know? You still trying to play matchmaker?"
"Something like that. Will you find out and let me know?"
"Sure. No problem."
"Thanks. I appreciate it." Kurt stood up to leave.
"Hey, where's Blaine? I haven't seen him all semester."
"He's taking care of somethings with his family. He'll be back in January."
"You doing okay?"
Kurt was touched by the obvious concern in Doug's voice, especially since they were surrounded by guys who would probably give him a hard time later.
"Yeah, I'm doing okay. Thanks for asking."
Doug nodded. "Okay. Well, I'll let you know what I find out."
"Thanks, Doug. I really appreciate it."
K&T&K&T
That evening, Kurt worked up his determination and knocked on Telio's door. Telio opened it in seconds.
"What's wrong?"
Kurt stood speechless for a moment. Telio was only wearing briefs and wow, wow, wow. As a gay man how had he never noticed…
"Uh, um, nothing's wrong. I just came by to talk."
Telio grabbed a shirt and a pair of sweatpants from one of his drawers while Kurt walked in and closed the door. Telio sat down on the bed and gestured to the desk chair. Kurt sat down and pulled himself together.
"So, Telio, how are you?"
"You came here to ask me how I'm doing?"
"Well…sure….yeah. We don't do enough of that."
"Let's not start."
"Telio, do you have any friends? Any social activities of any kind?"
"Why?"
"Just wondering."
"No."
"Don't you think you should?"
Telio sighed in annoyance. "Kurt, what the hell do you want?"
"I want you to go to the dance with me."
"Why?"
"Because I wanna go but I don't wanna go alone."
"You won't be alone. You'll be performing with the Warblers."
"Yeah, but most of them have girlfriends they plan to meet up with. After we sing I'll be by myself."
"I'm not gonna dance with you."
"I wouldn't expect you to. Just keep me company."
Telio studied him for a moment. "Why do you really want me to go?"
"I told you. I wanna go but not alone."
"Bullshit. Let me guess. You think Alicia will be there."
Kurt crossed his legs and fixed his face with his most innocent expression. "That actually hadn't occurred to me."
Telio stood up and opened his bedroom door. "Goodnight, Kurt."
"So, what if she is there? Would that be such a bad thing?"
"Get out."
Kurt stood up and headed out the door. He turned around.
"So, will you come?"
"Goodnight, Kurt"
Kurt smiled. At least it wasn't a no.
He stood in front of the entrance to the restaurant and took a deep breath. He tightened his grip on the brown lunch bag he was holding.
This was it. The big test.
All these months the challenge of getting a gun into the building had plagued him, but a few days earlier while washing the door windows he'd noticed something.
The restaurant entrance didn't have a metal detector.
He couldn't believe it. It was such a huge miss from a security standpoint but the more he thought about it the more it made sense. Chartussi's holding company leased the space. The restaurant owner probably didn't see a reason for metal detectors and since Chartussi never visited the restaurant it would never occur to him to have them installed.
So, tonight was the test. If he could get a gun in through the restaurant, he could hide it in the vent.
He gripped the brown paper bag tight and pushed open the door. He walked in quickly and made his way through the restaurant. As usual, no one paid any attention to him. He walked through the kitchen and to the back room. He quickly grabbed the stepstool, removed the vent and climbed in. His plan was to hide the bag near the interior climb space. He'd been crawling through the vents for the past two weeks to make sure he knew he way around, but tonight he was incredibly nervous. If he got caught with a gun things would go south in seconds.
He crawled quickly, taped the bag to the vent wall and quickly made his way back to the backroom vent. As he was climbing down the door opened and a restaurant server entered to get clean tablecloths. He let out a small yelp.
"What are you doing?"
He didn't miss a beat. "Had a report about a blockage in the vent. I was doing a preliminary check before calling in an HVAC technician."
"Oh. Okay. You startled me."
"Sorry about that."
He didn't breathe fully until he was safely on the train. He let his head fall back and closed his eyes.
Just a few more days.
B&NYC&B
That Thursday he met his contact at the diner.
He left a newspaper on the counter.
His contact opened the paper once he was in his Town car.
Next Friday.
He instructed his driver to wait. He opened the door when he saw him exit the diner.
"A moment."
He quickly stepped into the car and they pulled off.
"Are you sure you're ready?"
"Yes."
"You realize that once you do this everything will change."
"Isn't that the point?"
"I thought revenge was the point."
"That too. No matter what happens, you'll make sure my family is safe?"
"Of course."
Several minutes of silence passed before the contact spoke again.
"You realize that we won't be able to intervene if something goes wrong. We can't do anything that would ever trace this back to us."
"I understand."
The contact instructed the driver to pull over.
"Good luck."
That Friday, Kurt stood in front of his mirror and rechecked his outfit. He'd decided to wear the jeans Blaine had bought him the year before with a different shirt. As he stared in the mirror the question he was always trying to avoid ran though his mind.
Where is my boyfriend?
Kurt was busy enough during the day that he managed not to think about it. He joined the Shakespeare Club and the Dalton School Beautification Committee. He forced himself to spend more time with the Warblers, even if it meant flipping through a magazine while they played video games or watched a big game on TV.
But nighttime was an entirely different story.
Some nights he missed Blaine so much it hurt. The longing to be kissed, touched, fucked, was overwhelming. And then there was the worry. All Kurt knew was that Blaine was alone, undercover, somewhere in New York City, trying to kill someone named Chartussi. He didn't know if Blaine was working alone or with other people, but the fact that Telio wasn't with him scared Kurt. He tried not to let his imagination spiral out of control, but more than once he'd woken up in the middle of the night terrified by a recurring dream of Blaine lying at the bottom of a flight of stairs covered in blood. He didn't know why it was always at the bottom of a flight of stairs. He'd thought about mentioning it to Telio, but he was too scared. He felt like saying it out loud would take it from scary dream to reality.
Kurt pushed the worry from his mind and tried to focus on how great he looked and his plans for the evening. Doug had come through with the information he needed. Alicia was attending in hopes of seeing Telio. Kurt planned to make sure that happened.
He took a final look in the mirror and headed to Telio's room. Telio opened the door with his usual scowl. He was wearing a light blue button-down shirt with dark blue jeans.
"Telio, you look great. So handsome."
"Let's just get this over with."
K&T&A&K
As was tradition, the boys of Dalton Academy lined up and waited impatiently for the girls to arrive. This time Kurt wasn't shocked when the room erupted in squeals of joy when the girls entered. The song, "What Do You Mean" by Justin Bieber filled the room and people rushed the dance floor. As the area by the door cleared, Kurt spotted Alicia almost immediately.
Wow.
Kurt was starting to get a tiny complex about height. Had everyone grown 3 inches over the summer? Add in the two-inch heels she was wearing and Alicia could easily pass for a runway model. She was wearing a pink sleeveless dress that barely hit above the knee. Kurt was surprised the Crawford staff let her get away with it.
They spotted each other at the same time and quickly ran to each other.
"Kurt!"
"Alicia!"
They embraced and held each other for several long seconds. They each searched the others face with concern.
"How was your summer, Kurt?"
Alicia was one of the few people he didn't feel the need to lie to.
"Rough. What about you?"
"Scary and eventful."
Kurt nodded. "Yeah. That's a great description of my summer as well."
Without turning around, Kurt knew the moment Telio approached them. The instant look of love in Alicia's eyes was unmistakable.
Telio stood a few feet away staring at her.
God she's beautiful. Why does she always have to be so fucking beautiful?
Kurt took Alicia's hand and pulled her over to Telio.
"Hi."
"Hi."
They stood there staring at each other until Kurt surprised them both by pushing them towards a small room off of the main hall.
Telio frowned. "Where are we going?"
"Right over here."
Wes was standing guard at the door. He nodded as Kurt pushed Telio and Alicia inside the room and closed the door.
"Okay. Both of you sit down."
Telio was about to protest, but Alicia took his hand and pulled him down next to her on the couch. She smiled and Telio immediately relaxed. She was the only person in the world who had that effect on him.
Kurt placed his hands on his hips, cleared his throat, and gave them both a stern look.
"So, this is an intervention. It's for both of you, but mostly for Telio."
Alicia laughed while Telio shot Kurt a death look. Kurt was undaunted.
"Telio, you love her. You love her more than you've probably loved anyone besides your mother and Blaine, and yet you're being stupid. Yes, you and Blaine live dangerous lives. And yes, being with you is risky, but you know what? Life is dangerous and risky! And, you know what else? Fear of danger is a waste of time, especially for us. The danger already struck. It attacked, I survived and I'm still not going anywhere."
Kurt paused for a moment to catch his breath. Alicia sat fascinated while Telio just looked at him with a blank expression. Kurt focused on Alicia.
"Alicia…this summer I was kidnapped. I was kidnapped, almost raped, thrown down a flight of stairs, and both Blaine and Telio almost died rescuing me, but I'm still here. I survived. We survived. And I still love Blaine. I'm telling you this so you understand why Telio's been fighting his feelings so hard. He saw what happened to me and he's scared it could happen to you. That's why he keeps running from you. But, if you love him, Alicia, I mean really, truly love him, then don't let him chase you away. Yes, it's risky and it's dangerous, but I believe it's worth it. Men like Telio and Blaine…I've come to the conclusion that they love harder and better than anyone because of the constant danger they live under. They understand better than anyone else how precious and fleeting happiness and the joy of love can be, so their love…it's harder, stronger, and more intense than anyone else's love and that kind of love is worth it."
Kurt stopped because Alicia was staring at him with the strangest expression. She looked like she wanted to say something but wasn't sure. She looked at Telio who seemed to read her mind. He nodded.
"Kurt…I…I killed a man this summer. He broke into my house…he came to kill me to get to Telio and Blaine and I killed him. I killed him. I stabbed him with a knife…I…I still can't believe it sometimes, but I did. I killed a man."
She paused for a moment as she felt overwhelmed by the relief of finally being able to confide in someone. Kurt understood. He took her hand and squeezed while nodding encouragingly.
"I guess what I'm trying to say is that I get it. I know the danger. I've experienced it and…" She turned to face Telio. "And I still love you. I still want to be with you. I've been trying to get you to see that. I love you, Telio. Just like Kurt I know the risks. I've experienced the danger and I'm still here. I'm not going anywhere."
Telio sighed and shook his head as he looked between Kurt and Alicia.
"You two…you just don't understand."
Alicia wasn't having it. "What don't I understand? Someone tried to kill me because of my relationship with you and yet I'm not running away! Why can't you see that means I love you?"
"It's not just the danger. You wanna go to college, work for the UN one day. That's going to require a security clearance. How do you think you're going to get that if you're connected to a criminal? Your parents hate me. You're their only child, Alicia. I don't wanna come between you and your parents. This can't work. Us being together…it's just going to cause trouble in addition to the danger. I don't wanna ruin your life."
Alicia stepped forward and took his face in her hands. "You won't ruin my life. You make my life wonderful. You fill my life with a love I could only dream about. Telio, we'll figure out my parents and who knows what I'll really end up doing after college. Please, please don't try to answer all the questions before they've been asked. Let's just live right now. Day by day. Okay?"
Telio stared into her eyes. I love her. I don't wanna let her go. I should let her go, but…dammit. I don't want to. I can't.
Telio pulled her to him and kissed her with all the pent-up emotion, lust and longing he'd been trying to squash.
Kurt smiled and quickly left as it became obvious they were just getting started.
Wes looked at him questioningly. "Well?"
"Well, all is well. Thanks for your help. I'll take it from here."
Wes glanced at the door. "Uh, are they gonna be long? The only reason no one came over is because it's early. In another 20 minutes people are going to be looking to escape the noise."
Kurt grinned. "I can't comment on Telio's…prowess but that might be enough time."
For a second, Wes was confused. "Telio's prowess? What are you…" He looked at the door and back at Kurt. "Oh! Seriously?" Wes looked around nervously for the teachers. "Shit! We're all gonna get expelled."
Kurt cracked up laughing at the look of slight terror on Wes's face. Wes planted himself firmly in front of the door like a sentry guard.
"Maybe this'll make him loosen up some. Stop being so serious."
Kurt smiled and shook his head. "I doubt it."
Wednesday morning, he stopped by the kitchen to pick up the coffee, tea and pastry tray for Chartussi and his men. It had become a regular part of his schedule. No problem. He was happy to help Karen out.
He rolled the cart out of the kitchen and down the hall. He half turned the corner and stopped. He glanced around and then reached into his underwear to pull out the vial of arsenic. He sprinkled some on the powdered donuts, sprinkled a small amount in the tea and poured the rest into the coffee carafe. He swirled it around to mix it in before continuing to the elevator.
"Morning."
"Morning."
Coffee and pastry tray on the desk.
The men didn't waste time fixing their cups of coffee and grabbing their favorite donuts.
He pushed the cart into Chartussi's office right as he was coming out of the bathroom. Yuck.
Chartussi stood there fixing his pants and belt as he placed the pot of tea, cup and saucer on the desk. Chartussi glanced at him and then took a second look.
"You like being an errand boy janitor?"
He shrugged.
"Hmph." Chartussi moved behind his desk and proceeded to pour a cup of tea. "Ya know, I'm always looking for good guys to hire. Guys who know how to work hard and keep their mouths shut. If you're interested." He took a sip of tea.
He kept his eyes on the floor. "I'll think about it."
Chartussi looked at him. Guy doesn't seem too bright, but that's not always a bad thing.
"You do that, and if you decide you're tired of cleaning shitty toilets, you let Mike out there know, okay?"
"Yeah. Okay. Thanks."
He quickly pushed the cart out of the office.
Chartussi watched him leave, shook his head and took another sip of tea.
Lucian watched as Anastasia stood up from the dining room table and walked out on to the patio. She stared out at the night sky and the lights of Miami. She'd been quiet all evening. At first Lucian thought it was because this was the first time they were dining at his home. He had no intentions of pushing her for sex, but she had no way of knowing that. Over dinner he told her how much he enjoyed their time together and that he was willing to follow her lead. He respected the fact that she was still a relatively new widow. No pressure. For anything.
She smiled and thanked him but remained quiet.
He followed her out on to the patio and placed his hands on her shoulders. Wow. The tension in her shoulders…
"Anastasia, please tell me. What's wrong?"
Mario had taught her to trust no one but him.
And now you're gone. Who do I trust now?
More than once her mind had wandered to Luther, but she was scared. After what happened with Blaine in the barn…
"Please, Anastasia. Maybe I can help."
Help.
That's exactly what she needed. What she had a feeling her son needed.
She turned to Lucian and searched his eyes. He was staring at her with so much concern.
Maybe I can trust him.
Everyone in our world is a criminal, Stasia. And you can never trust a criminal.
But, he's not a part of our world. Not really.
That makes him even more dangerous. Never trust an outsider.
"I'm sorry I've been so distant this evening. I've just been preoccupied with thoughts of home. My Ohio home."
"I understand. I'm sure you miss your sons. Have you spoken with them recently?"
"I…" Anastasia stopped and studied him for a moment. "Lucian…have you ever heard of a man named Frank Chartussi?"
Lucian frowned. "Yes. I've heard of him. I don't know him personally and from what I've heard, I don't care to. Why?"
Trust no one, Stasia. No one.
"I was just wondering."
Friday morning.
5:00 am.
He lay in bed staring at the ceiling.
Today.
The beginning of a new empire.
Or his last day on earth.
Either way, he was ready.
After a hot shower he stared at his reflection in the mirror. His hair was so long that he now wore it in a ponytail.
I wonder what he'd think of the ponytail?
He dressed and packed everything he arrived with in his back pack. He packed the few clothes he'd brought in another bag. He planned to gift them to a homeless man he passed every morning. An early Christmas present.
He stopped at the front desk and laid his key on the counter. The hotel clerk, Jessie felt like crying
"You leaving?"
"Yes. It's time."
"Gonna miss you." Gonna miss your cash. I've pocketed every dime you've paid since arriving.
"I bet you are."
"You come back anytime, kay? I'll always hook ya up."
"Thanks. See ya."
Jessie watched him leave. Damn. He was hoping for one more month of cash. Would've come in handy for the holidays.
He followed his normal routine with the exception of dropping off the bag of clothes along with $500 in cash. The homeless man started crying and insisted on hugging him while thanking him effusively. It took several minutes for him to escape.
As he took his seat on the train he hoped it wasn't his last ride. The train was one of the things he'd really come to love.
He took one more detour on his way to the building. He stopped at one of the few pay phones left in the city. It was 6:40 am. He dropped in a bunch of quarters.
He held the receiver tight. This was his one deviation from the plan. But, if today was his last day on earth…
He smiled at the sleepy "Hello?"
"I love you. Don't say my name. I love you."
The sleep disappeared instantly. "Hi. Oh, my God. Hi."
He closed his eyes. Oh, how he'd missed that voice. "I love you and I just want to thank you for loving me back. In spite of everything, you loved me back and I'm so grateful. Thank you."
"Not past tense. I still love you. I love you. I love you. I love you so much. Please…I miss you. I love you and I miss you. Please come home."
He could hear the tears. "Don't cry. I gotta go. I love you. Forever. No matter what I'll love you forever."
"Please, when…"
"Don't. I love you."
"I love you, too! I love you, too!"
He hung up. He stood still for a moment hoping the pain in his chest would subside before his next call.
It didn't.
She answered on the third ring. "Hello."
"Mama, I forgive you."
"Oh…my darling. Are you alright?"
"I'm fine. I…I love you, mom. I just wanted you to know."
"I love you too, sweetheart. Please be careful. I can't take…"
"I know. I will. Love you."
He hung up quickly and headed towards the building.
Kurt sat on his bed sobbing.
He couldn't stop.
He didn't know what was about to happen, but he knew it was possible he'd just heard Blaine's voice for the last time.
He climbed out of bed, threw on a shirt and ran down the hall to Telio's room. As usual, Telio opened the door in seconds. He took one look at Kurt and pulled him into his room. Kurt hadn't planned on it, but he fell into Telio as if pushed. Telio wrapped his arms around him and held him tight.
"It's gonna be okay, Kurt. He's gonna be fine."
Kurt cried until his eyes hurt to the point of being unable to produce tears.
Telio held him until they had no choice but to get ready for class.
Anastasia stared at her diamond wedding ring. It was a 14 carat custom made ring specifically designed for her by Mario. She remembered throwing it at him when she found out the truth of who he was and what he did for a living. She had hated, feared and loved him all at the same time in that moment. Eventually the hate evaporated and only the fear and love remained, but even the fear wasn't an afraid fear. No. It was something she would never be able to explain to anyone. How could fear wrapped in love work? Add in their passionate sexual addiction to one another and their entire relationship sounded crazy. But, she loved him. God, how she loved that man.
But now he was dead.
And she was alive.
And she needed to keep her son alive.
She slipped the ring off her finger and placed it in her jewelry box.
And picked up the phone.
"Lucian? I…I need your help. Actually, I think my son might need help. I really don't know, but remember the other night when I asked you about Frank Chartussi…"
The building was buzzing with the news.
A bunch of the security guards were seriously sick and in the hospital. Food poisoning was suspected. The owner of the downstairs restaurant was furious that people in the building thought it was his food. The guards didn't eat at his place. He blamed the nasty food truck around the corner.
He started his normal routine.
The 13th floor was quiet. Only two guards were at the desk. New guys.
He took extra care dusting the credenza in the hallway.
"What time you say he's getting in?"
"Not until 2:00 pm. Ain't feeling well. Wonder if he ate whatever the fuck they ate."
"Nah. He dines hoity toity. He don't eat garbage."
2:00 pm.
Okay.
He had his usual lunch with Juan. For the past few weeks all Juan had talked about was school tuition for his daughters. Apparently, they had tested really well on some standardized exam. The school was strongly recommending they transfer to a private school in town for gifted children, but it was expensive. Juan was contemplating a third job or maybe going to work on what he called, "the other side," but he really didn't want to.
"I know the money is good, but I don't wanna be a stereotype, ya know? Another Mexican drug dealer. I wanna do stuff the right way. Stay honest."
He listened and nodded until lunch was over.
At 5:00 pm, Juan went to get his coat and lunch bag from his locker. An envelope fell out. Inside was enough cash to cover the tuition for his daughter's school plus enough extra for him to go home for Christmas.
Stay honest.
It's for the best.
Feliz Navidad.
He looked around but didn't see anyone.
He reread the note.
He walked down to his lunch buddy's locker and opened it.
Empty.
B&C&B&C&B
He was hot.
The heat for the building had been turned on.
Fortunately, it wasn't super cold outside so it wasn't on full blast. Just enough to take the chill out of rooms.
And to make sweat drip from his brow and down his back as he made his now familiar way through the vents towards Chartussi's office. As he crawled he stopped along the way to collect the guns, knives and ammo he'd smuggled in over the past two weeks.
His plan was pretty simple. He'd loosened the screws to the vent cover in Chartussi's office the week before. His hope was to get off a few shots before jumping down from the vent. He would make sure Chartussi knew who he was and then kill him. He had a silencer on his gun so he hoped the guards wouldn't hear anything. He planned to escape through the hidden passage.
As he approached the vent he could hear voices. He settled on his stomach and peered through the slats. He could see four men, two standing and two sitting. Chartussi was sitting behind his desk looking pale and coughing every few minutes.
"…seems to have disappeared. No one's seen him in months."
"That's because…" Chartussi coughed. "…he's in school." More coughing. "The little asswipe is still…" Coughing again. "…a fucking schoolboy." Chartussi fell into a violent coughing fit. The men looked at each other nervously. What if it wasn't food poisoning? What if it was contagious?
One of the men shook his head. "No. We have it on good authority that he's not in school. His lover is there along with the Black kid, but Anderson's not there."
"I thought the Black kid was his bodyguard?" said one of the other men.
The other guy shrugged. "Maybe he left him to watch over his butt boy."
Chartussi sat back and closed his eyes. "Alright. Find out where he is. I wanna know. Do it now." He waved his hand signaling them to clear the room. The men gratefully left.
I'm right here, you fat fuck.
He waited a few minutes to give the men time to leave the floor.
Chartussi opened his eyes and stood up. He really needed to get home. He felt like shit. He pushed the button under his desk to signal for his car.
Blaine pushed the vent cover. It hit the floor with a louder than expected crash.
Chartussi looked up and immediately fell back, more from shock than the bullet that hit his chest. Blaine jumped down and fired again. Chartussi yelled as the bullet grazed his cheek and nearly took his ear off. The door flew open and two men ran in. Blaine shot the first one clear in the chest, but the second managed to get off a shot that hit him in the shoulder. He managed to fire at the man's head as he fell backwards. He scrambled back and flipped over a table to take cover. He barely managed to get behind it before Chartussi was shooting at him. Chartussi fired several times before making his way to the bedroom door. Blaine stood up to follow but was greeted by another hail of bullets. One struck his side.
Shit!
He stayed behind the table and picked off the men one by one as they came through the door. Once the last man was shot he reloaded and forced himself to stand.
Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!
The pain was hell.
He staggered through the bedroom to the hidden passage and started down the stairs. He could hear Chartussi breathing hard as he shuffled down the stairs. Between his size, being shot and his arsenic weakened system, he was struggling.
Blaine was struggling too.
He wasn't losing blood fast, but he was losing it and the pain was making his mind fuzzy. He had to fight to stay conscious. He started screaming.
"Come back here, you fat motherfucker! You fucking coward!"
Chartussi looked up and tried to gage the distance between them. He stopped on the landing between two flights of stairs and waited for Blaine to come into view. Blaine half staggered, half fell into the wall on the landing above. There was a flight of stairs between them – him at the top and Chartussi at the bottom. Blaine raised his gun.
Chartussi had a gun, but he was having trouble gripping it. His hand muscles went limp and the gun slid out of his hand to the floor. He couldn't tell if his attacker noticed or not. Okay. He'd have to talk his way out of this. He had no idea who this guy was or who sent him, but he looked young and the other day he seemed pretty slow. Yes. He could talk his way out of this. Him versus a dumb kid. He could do this.
"Don't shoot! Don't shoot! Let's just talk for a minute! I don't know who sent you, but we can figure this out!"
Blaine's arm felt like lead but he managed to hold on to the gun and keep it pointed at Chartussi's head.
"You wanna know who sent me! I'll tell you who sent me! My father, Mario Anderson!"
Chartussi was shocked. This was baby Anderson? How the hell… Okay. Never mind that. His men were on the way. He just had to keep the kid talking.
"Your father was a smart man! He knew how to negotiate! I'm guessing you do too!"
Blaine shook his head. "No! We can't negotiate because you can't give me what I want!"
"Of course, I can! I can give you New York! We can reach an agreement about New York!"
"That's not what I want!"
"What then? Name it!"
Blaine cocked the gun. "I want my father back." He shot Chartussi square between the eyes. His body fell and rolled down the stairs.
Blaine sagged against the wall.
Chartussi was dead.
Finally.
Clutching his side with one hand and his gun in the other he slowly made his way down the steps. When he reached Chartussi's body he shot him five more times. Three in the chest and two in the head. Just for good measure.
He continued staggering down the stairs.
He could hear when the men reached Chartussi's body. He was counting on them stopping there versus continuing down. Hopefully they would think he'd already escaped.
He was still moving, one step at a time, but his reality was skewed. He thought he was moving at a fairly normal pace.
In reality he was moving very, very slowly. Each foot falling slow and heavy on each step.
Every movement increased his pain.
With each step he smeared blood on the wall.
Both his body and mind were starting to fade.
He kept moving.
Just…need…to…reach…the…
Blaine tumbled down the final flight of stairs, landing unconscious at the bottom.
The motion sensor lights went out.
No, I have not left Blaine to die in the dark at the bottom of a flight of stairs.
Actually…hmm? Maybe I just did.