*

“Miss Mastrosimone.”  Amato patted the side of his chair.  The guard walked Tara right up to the pillows as if he expected she’d fall in beside the Baron.  Tara, of course, had no intention of falling at this man’s feet.

“Amato.”  She said with a nod, all business.

“Hm.”  He made a noise, Tara could barely here it but the look on his face and the nod said he understood instantly her position on matters.

“I had hoped to get a chance to talk to you before everything fell into place.  Word on the street was always that you would be your father’s successor.”

“Not that you care too much about that.  Word on the street is that you have big ambitions.  Must be nice to have my father out of the way the glass ceiling removed.”  Tara remarked.

“Your father gave me nothing but respect when he came to see me.  His removal was business.  I had nothing personal against him.  I told my people to treat him and your mother with all the dignity they deserved.”

“And Indigo?  Azure?  Little girls… is that how you do business?”

He shook his head, “Not at all.  I found out about the incident at the train station.  I had the people involved in that taken care of.  I promise you.”

“And I’m to take your word for that?” Tara said arching an eyebrow.  

“I could give you a token of good faith.  Of course, that’s the sort of thing you do for friends.  Are we friends, Tara?”

“Now I’m Tara?” She said crossing her arms in front of her.  “How did you know to watch for me?”

“I have friends at the airport.  You fly in on a private plane, new hair, pretty bodyguard… it’s bound to be noticed.  Next time, fly coach.”

Tara sighed.  “What could you possibly have that I want?”

“Probably nothing.”  Amato said, allowing himself to drape across the throne a bit more, spreading his legs and filling out the space utterly.  A woman crawled up his leg and rested her head on his thigh. “Maybe something… you know, funny thing about you Luciano women…”

Tara narrowed her eyes.

“So full of yourself.  You come in here like you own the place, I’ve heard the stories.  Isabella. Aurora.” He smirked as he watched Tara’s expression darken.  “You think you’re the only one who does their homework? You think I was going to sit here and get drunk and high waiting for a Mastrosimone to come in and notice that I’ve got designs on much more than being the Baron of Hell’s Kitchen?”  He shook his head.

“What do you want?”

“What no Baron has ever gotten.  Everything.” He said putting a hand into the hair of the woman on his thigh, gripping it and pushing her away violently.  “You. At my feet. The way the others didn’t for the previous Barons. Submit and I let your family come back to New York.  Maybe I let you run some of Daddy’s businesses.”

“You think I care about that shit?”  Tara snarled. “That I’d be your whore for that?”

“No.”  Amato said sitting up.  “But you’d do it for the kid.”

Tara stared at Amato.

“Oh… see.  You’re starting to think now.  They said you were the smart one.  I’m the smart one too. Rosalyn told me about you.  She was right. I see it now. So, the woman you were with… that must be Oriana?”  He chuckled. “Don’t worry we won’t hurt her.” he nodded to one of his guards and the man began going down into the crowd, making his way towards Jo.

“Which kid?  Where is she?”

“Sit.”  Amato commanded.

Tara’s nostrils flared.

“We both know you’re going to do it.  Now.  SIT.”  He said loud enough to be heard by people off the stage.

Tara lowered herself onto the pillow.  Amato beamed.  “Azure.”  He said reaching a hand down to touch Tara’s hair like he was petting a dog.  Tara’s hand moved towards her calf.

“Where is she?”  Tara hissed, her eyes pouring pure hate at the man.

Amato shook his head.  “Not yet.  Tonight we get to know each other better.  Maybe you even tell me the banking information for your father’s offshore accounts.  Maybe give me a few names, people that can help me become legitimate in this thing of ours.”

“Not yours.”  She snarled.  “You’ll never be a man of honor.”

Amato chuckled, “Power makes the rules, darling.  I have all the power.  You have none.  Daddy is dead.  Time for you to learn your place.”

Tara turned her eyes downward, looking out towards Jo who now was conversing with the bodyguard.  “You couldn’t have done this alone,”  Tara said, her eyes searching the crowd for Oriana.  Noticing Lorenzo was gone she figured that at least one of them had managed their objective.

“Oh, I was smart enough to make some friends.  After all that Mattaranzi bullshit, people were really nervous.  Shaken. Your father’s power base had cracks. It was easy to whisper into ears and tell them that your father had too many enemies in the old country.  Make them question if they wanted to end up like your uncle. I mean, a Senator wasn’t even safe, how’s a lawyer or local politician gonna fair? I made a lot of promises, wrote a lot of checks in advance but I knew it was only a matter of time and when your family finally ran afoul of the other cities… I’d be in a position to make my move.”

“Why Brigitte?”  Tara questioned, finally looking up to the man.

“Why not?  She came to me.  Happy happenstance.  All fucked up, looking for a fight, wanting to be comforted.  I had a line of men for her… more alcohol than she could drink.  She couldn’t tell go to her Daddy about the shit she really wanted to do.  You should have seen the look on your old man’s face when they announced her as the Valkyrie from Manhattan.  Oh! And when my guy put hands on her… I thought he was going to jump out of that damn wheel chair of his.”

“He should have.”  Tara muttered.

“Maybe he should have.  If he had, maybe it all would have gone a different way.  Or maybe my people would have ended it that night.” He stroked Tara’s hair again.  “Guess we’ll never know. Now… what would you like to drink?”

“I’m not thirsty.”  Tara said flatly.  

“You’ll want to wet your whistle.  Maybe get a little loose. It’s going to be a long night before you see Azure again.  I’m going to know we’re friends… or you won’t. So… show me you like me. What do you want to drink?”

Tara swallowed.  “Whiskey.” She said, her eyes drifting out to the crowd again, this time not finding Jo and the bodyguard.

“Go get my girl a whiskey,”  He told one of the whores who slipped off looking resentful at Tara.

Tara sighed, “So what’s the plan?”  She said looking up to The Baron.  “You fancy yourself the Godfather of New York?  You got plans to put your hooks into city leaders?  Cops?  You even know how to start something like that?  I mean, it’s not as simple as calling someone up and asking them out to lunch you know.”

“Why do you think I got you here?  You’re hot, but don’t flatter yourself.  I need much more than ass of yours.  You know all the people who were open to being bought.  You can turn a Baron into a King.”

As he finished speaking, the fire alarm began to blare inside the warehouse as the full lights blasted on, disorienting the revelers who’d been partying in the shadows.

As the screams erupted and motion in the room began, Tara pulled her grandfather’s knife free from her calf and shot up off the pillow, pouncing into the Throne - the blade at Amato’s throat.  She looked to the guard reaching for his gun and snarled, “DON’T.”  Pressing the blade just hard enough to draw a trickle of blood.  Amato whimpered, eyes wide.

“Azure?!?”  She demanded.  “Where’s my sister?”

“I’ll take you to her.” He offered.  “I won’t tell you anything … but I’ll take you.”

Tara wasn’t sure.  She couldn’t tell by looking at him if he was bluffing or not.  A part of her thought there was no way Cerise would leave the girl behind but her own mother had once thought Gavin was dead and she had been wrong.  

Gunshots rang out and the guard next to them dropped to their knees; the screams of the fleeing crowd got louder.

Tara’s lips twitched, smiling she looked into Amato’s eyes, “You’ll tell me where she is or I’m going to make sure you take a very long time to die.  Before you say anything stupid, I suggest you look in my eyes and consider if a Luciano would lie about something like that...”

Amato was silent, the look in his eyes went from nervous to terrified.  Tara swallowed, “She’s dead.”  It was a statement than a question.  “You’re lying.”

“Tara! Gotta go!” yelled Ori.

“Wait!  We can…”  Amato began but he didn’t finish.  The knife slid into the man smoothly and Tara lept back, splattered only a small bit with blood as the man fell to the floor, grabbing at this throat. 

Ori appeared next to Tara and frowned.

“He said he had Azure…”  She shook her head.  

“He’s lying. Finish him. He’s almost certainly dead, but we’ve got enough enemies without having him show up in a few years. Fast.”

Tara dropped down and finished the deed using the blood coated knife, never looking into his eyes as she did.  

“Wipe it on his shirt, and let’s get the fuck out of here.”

Ori could see her trembling, in the flashing lights of the fire alarm.  She’d never killed a man like this before, certainly not so personally. Tara quickly wiped the knife off on the man’s shirt and then got up, nodding to herself.

“Okay.”  She said.  “Got it. Let’s go.  Wait… Jo! She was in the crowd.  A guard went for her. Thought she was you.”  

“She kneed the guy in the balls; she’s headed toward the car.” Ori grabbed Tara’s hand to do the same. Ori pulled Tara along, shooting the other guard as they passed him and made their way out the door into the car.

Jo, Tara, and Ori piled in the backseat. “Punch it, Brigitte! Head to Bradshaw.”

The blonde hit the gas, and the car leaped forward into the night.

No one spoke for a while as the streetlights lit the car in intermittent bursts. The women in the back adjusted themselves, although Ori didn’t pull back from leaning on Tara.

“Two more down,” said Ori. “One to go. Where’s Bradshaw going to be, Brigitte? His house? I say we go there, pick the lock, and Brigitte can shoot the fucker. Then we’ll grab the stuff at her apartment and get the fuck out of New York- for a long time. Lots of heat tonight,” she said. Tara could feel Ori’s breath on her shoulder. Turning, Tara saw that Ori had a black eye and immediately reached her hand out to gently touch it.

“Got elbowed in the crowd,” said Ori. “I’ll be fine.”

Tara smiled and shook her head slowly as the car made its way out of Hell’s Kitchen towards the Queen’s midtown tunnel and onto Brooklyn.  The group fell into silence.  Tara stared out the windows watching the places she knew as ‘home’ for the last two years flying past and she found herself suddenly having empathy for her mother all these long years.  The woman who she thought of as being ungrateful for what she had, of not seeing that home was her family, whose eyes were always focused on a place in her past and not on the people in her present … now, on the eve of leaving her own past behind, she finally understood.  

Leaving Canada had been different.  She knew she would miss the solitude of her tress, the peace of the river, and the animals she thought of as friends… but they weren’t people.  They weren’t these iconic places which had marked her life as deeply as any knife cutting into her flesh.  New York had scarred her.  

She had truly grown up here.  From this city’s womb she’d emerged both a woman and a gangster - truly a part of the legacy of the Fazzone, DiCaprio, Messina, Lucania, Luciano, Byrne, and Mastrosimone families.  She was now one of them in every sense of the word, blooded by tragedy and loss as great as any she’d ever read about - but not broken.  She had survived, forged her own family from the remnants of her parent’s lives and now found herself entrusted with the truths learned by generations of men and women before her.  What she did with that was entirely up to her.  This, she realized, was Lucy’s Ivory Tower.  Each life, each story, a stone in it’s unbreakable walls.  A light by which she could guide her own path, her own destiny, whatever that would be.

Tara glanced away from the window, as the Brigitte drove them past home, either because she knew no other route or because she had to see it one last time, and kissed Oriana’s head.  This was home now.  And Tara was content.  No sound was uttered.  No remark was made.  No tears were shed.  The car was as quiet as a tomb as the Mastrosimone’s home passed away into the darkness behind them.

When the car came to a stop in a neighborhood that was only a little nicer than the docks where the man had worked, his new car parked outside seemed to shine like a new penny, standing out in the darkness. Tara’s eyes locked on it and her shoulders sank.  It was a story as common as any in the Mafia. The man Dad had trusted so well, it would appear at a glance, had sold him out for something as simple as money.  

“I’ll be back.”  Brigitte said opening the car door.  Oriana reached forward and grabbed her shoulder.  

As Brigitte looked back, she found Oriana offering her iron, giving a glance to Tara before saying, “Use this.”  It took Brigitte on a moment to nod and accept the gun. Then, she was gone.

Tara looked to Ori, wrapped her arm around her, and whispered, “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” whispered Ori as she removed a knife and crept silently after Brigitte. 

Two shots broke the peace of the night.  Dogs barked in the neighborhood. Tara tensed but only had to wait a brief moment before Ori reappeared, quickly followed by her sister.  As the two women jumped into the car, Brigitte wordlessly threw the car into reverse, and backed out into the street. Then, the distance began to grow between the Mastrosimone sisters and their past.

Just before getting onto the bridge that would take them back, Brigitte pulled the car off the road into a park along the shore.  Tara narrowed her eyes as the car came to a stop. “What are we doing?” Tara asked.

“One more thing before we hit my place.  Come on.” Brigitte got out and shut the door behind her.  Tara shrugged to Ori and then followed her sister.  

“Please tell me this is drinking and dancing,” said Jo, trying to lighten the mood. “Or maybe a trip to the spa?”

Brigitte walked across the sand and rocks with purpose, stalking towards the water’s edge with Tara following close behind.  As she reached the place where water could hit her shoes, Brigitte finally stopped and waited for Tara to come alongside of her.  

“I had meant to come here when it was done, assuming I didn’t die or get busted.”

“Where is here exactly?”  Tara said looking around seeing no significance to the small bit of shoreline.

“The end.”  Brigitte said reaching under her coat and pulling out one of the black guns and handing it to her sister.  Tara looked deeply concerned as she took it and Brigitte pulled out the other.

“Brigitte…”  Tara began to question and then her concerns were laid to rest as with all the strength Brigitte possessed she threw the gun out into the darkness and over the water.

Tara blinked.

“Your turn.”  The older sister instructed.  “No one should ever touch those things again.”

Tara smiled, proud.  She nodded and with all the strength she had, she copied her sister’s action casting the black guns away forever.

For a moment they watched the place where the guns had disappeared into the depths.  The moon reflecting on the water.  Brigitte reached down and took her sister’s hand.  She gave it a squeeze.  “Thanks.”

Tara nodded.  “Yeah.  Anytime.”  

Together the sisters walked back towards the car, hand in hand.  “Now.”  Brigitte said to Jo.  “We can go to my place.  I got some things we need to gather up and if you like, we have drinks there.”

“We are not staying long enough to enjoy them.”  Tara said in a motherly tone.  “One your place is shit… it looks like crap.  Two, if anyone knows who the hell we were, the cops might show up there.”

“It’s fine,” said Jo. “never a dull moment with you girls. And honestly, if you’re going to be based out of Philly now… I might follow you down there. I manage to find my own fun fairly often, but the biggest adventures tend to happen when one of you calls me. Maybe I’ll split off here, then you guys can just grab your things and go? I’ll meet you in Philly for that drink in a few days when I’ve got my shit together.”

Tara threw her arms around Jo. “You always have a place with us.  You’re family.  If you got things you need to wrap up here, that’s fine, but if you didn’t show in Philly I’d almost be offended.  I can’t imagine us without you.”

Brigitte nodded her agreement but said nothing.

Jo gave Brigitte and Ori quick hugs as well, promising to get in touch as she headed off to catch a cab- there was a hotel nearby that always had one waiting, whatever the hour.

“I agree,” said Ori. “We should move fast. New York is going to be too hot for any of us for a while.” She lead the Mastrosimones toward the car.

“Ten minutes.  If that.”  Brigitte said to Ori, then turning to her sister.  “There are things we can’t leave behind.”

Tara nodded as she got into the car.  “I think we saw what you mean.  We hit your place before we found you.  Don’t worry, we wouldn’t leave any of it behind.”

*

Brigitte was all business as she grabbed a suitcase and began throwing stuff into it.  Some clothing, a few basic ‘essentials’ that Tara might have left behind, but the oldest Mastrosimone would not.  A few things, Tara admitted to herself, she understood why Brigitte would not part with … the last dress Billy had bought for Brigitte, for one.  Tara watched her sister fold it with reverence, and said nothing. Then, she went to the floor board and began pulling out the items which Oriana had located earlier.

Brigitte seemed satisfied that her sister knew where to find some things, but then went into her closet to begin pulling up a floorboard there.  “You know,” Brigitte’s voice came out of the closet. “This wasn’t at all how I expected we’d leave New York.”

Tara chuckled.  “I wish I could say that it wasn’t what I feared.”  It was an odd thing to laugh at, she realized. Maybe not so funny at all, and yet, what else could be done but laugh if not cry?  Tara didn’t want to cry. They’d lived. Gavin and most of the kids had lived. They’d gotten away with so much more than maybe they should have.  In that, her parents would have found a sense of victory. The pack was still strong.

Brigitte came out of the closet with a second bag of items and walked over to her suitcase, tucking it inside.

“What’s in that one?”  Tara asked carrying the items from her cubby over to the pile.  

“My tool kit.”  she smiled. “Some of it mom’s.  Some Grandpa Gavin’s. Ours now.”  She said nodding.

“Is that it?”  Tara asked looking around at the remains of the once posh apartment.

Brigitte picked up her bags.  “That’s it.”

Without another word, the young women made their way back down to the car on the street.  Tucking the remains of their old life into the trunk, the three piled back inside.

“Anything you need to pick up?”  Brigitte asked Ori. “We can swing back over to Manhattan if you need.”

Tara looked to Oriana, but she didn’t expect that the woman had anything left here that still mattered, presuming her to have picked up most of it on her last visit.

Ori shook her head. “I’ll come back again someday, maybe. But I’m done here.”

As the car drove on in silence, crossing a bridge and heading south, the sentiment echoed throughout the car. It was time to move on.

*

“Yeah.  I’m sorry too.”  Brigitte said into the phone.  “Give everyone hugs and kisses for me.  We’ll come visit soon.  And Gavin… I love you.”  

Tara listened to her sister’s half of the call as she stood in the frame of the floor to ceiling window of the sewing factory lofts apartment which she’d claimed as her own.  From here, at the darkest point of the night, Tara swore she must be looking at the lights of Race Street Pier.  It was a place her Grandfather might have stood lifetimes ago.  She leaned on the frame, resting her weary head against the wall, arms crossed in front of her against the chill that the winter winds were just beginning to bring to Philly.  The holidays were coming, there was a certain irony in being here now.

“They’re good.”  Brigitte said walking up beside her.  “Are you sure you didn’t want to stay with Oriana tonight?  I really would have been fine alone.”

“I can see Ori any night; I’ve got an open invite. And I wouldn’t have slept if I had stayed there,”  She said softly.  “I wanted to be in my own bed today. Although there is someone I need to introduce you to at Ori’s place.  Maybe tomorrow.”  

Brigitte nodded.  “What are we looking at?”

“Ghosts.”  Tara replied.  “Just ghosts.”

Brigitte stepped back, allowing her sister to step down out of the window frame.  “I figured I’d sleep on the couch.  You got an extra blanket?”

“Don’t be stupid.”  Tara said putting an arm around her sister.  “You’re sleeping in my bed.”

Brigitte chuckled.  “I’m not taking your bed from you.  I mean, I’m prissy sometimes but I’m not an asshole.”

“Not what I meant at all.”  Tara said heading into the bedroom.  “I meant, like when we were kids.  Remember the November storms?”

Brigitte shook her head, “Oh god.  I thought we wouldn’t talk about that ever again.”

“I used to get so freaked out.”  Tara sat on the edge of the bed and began to get ready to sleep.

“Yeah.  You did.”  Brigitte kicked off her shoes, casting them aside carelessly - the way Aurora used to, Tara realized.  While Tara put hers beside one another, neatly at the foot of the bed.

“And you always would do that thing with your blankets.  The knees up.”

“A tent.”  Brigitte chuckled.  “Are we making tents?”

“No.  I think we can skip that part and go right to the end.”  Tara smiled and pulled back her covers letting her sister climb in.  “I only have the one pillow though.”

Tara climbed next to Brigitte whose head was already on the pillow.  

“Just means we’ll have to share.  Stay close.”  Brigitte said softly as Tara reached over and turned off the bedside lamp.

Tara slipped down beside her sister, who curled around her protectively the way they used to as young girls.  

“Always.”  Tara whispered and then, she closed her eyes to sleep.