20 | i've cleaned enough houses to know how to cover up a scene

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Chapter Twenty

No Body No Crime ( Taylor Swift ft, HAIM )

"i've cleaned enough houses to know how to cover up a scene"


"It's Luke Maybank."

Those three words had more of an impact than if a bomb were to have gone off in our living room. Things seemed to move in slow motion as the gravity of the Maybank patriarch's involvement sank in.

Barry hurriedly pecked Vittoria on the cheek, grabbing his jacket and making a quick exit. He muttered something under his breath about having business to attend to, which either meant he was going to a drug deal or he was just uncomfortable in the new atmosphere Cynthia had created with this revelation.

JJ stormed out, not even uttering as much an aggressive curse word. It was strange, the usual anger accompanied by this cold disassociation I had only ever seen form him once. He slammed the rustic patio doors behind him with so much force that Nonna's handmade wind chimes from the Amalfi coast almost fell to the floor.

Kiara shook her head, grabbing her backpack and a file folder, promising to summarize it and send me the notes. She didn't say anything, but it was clear that she didn't think we should be involved in the situation form the get-go.

John B shook his head, and I knew he was goign to jump ship as well, now that things had gotten weird.

"Sorry, Sie. I've got a shift in twenty. Call you later?"

I nodded, giving him a quick kiss. "Yeah, no problem."

Once everybody had left, Vittoria quickly hung up on Favio's girlfriend, turning to face me. "What was that all about?"

I sighed. "Luke Maybank is JJ's dad." I started, gently lifting the corner of my shirt to show the angry pink scar running up my side. "He's not a good man, Vittoria."

Vittoria exhaled sharply. "If he did that to you, I'd hate to see what he does to his son."

I excused myself from the family room shortly after, stealing away a plate of breadsticks to bring up to my room, anxiously munching as I paced the teal-colored room, trying to formulate a plan.
It seemed like there was only one possible, viable option.
I picked up my phone, dialing a memorized number I swore I'd delete.
"Hey, Rafe. I need a favour."

+++

I found JJ behind the derelict shack, noise cancelling headphones over his ears as he held the SIG pistol in his hands, angrily firing shots at an old teddy bear. As each bullet pierced the fabric of the bear, sending the stuffing flying, I couldn't help but see it as something an English teacher would psychoanalyze and turn into a symbol for how quickly our lives blew up in out faces.

"JJ!" I shouted, hoping to get his attention that wasn't going to put me anywhere close to the line of fire.

Out of ammunition, the blond boy pulled his headphones down, aggressively kicking an empty oil drum that was lying nearby. He cursed when he saw me flinching. "Sienna, what are you doing here?"

"I'm sorry your dad was involved in this." I started, pulling a sheaf of papers out of the pocket of my hoodie. "But I have a plan. You probably won't like it though."

JJ sighed, sitting next to me on one of the hay bales. "Try me. I'll do anything to get Pope back."

"Rafe agreed to front us, well, me the money. He owes me one." I said softly, knowing that JJ would hate the thought of getting the Cameron boy involved.

JJ sighed. "At this point, I'll take it. As long as that's the extent of his involvement. I've spent my life not needing help and handouts from Kooks, and I'm not about to start now."

I understood that sentiment, even being a former "Kook" myself. We Barba women were always self-sufficient, and we got to where we were doing just that. Until we weren't up there anymore.

"Sangue really backed us into a fucking corner." JJ cursed, putting his head in his hands.

I shook my head "That's what the mob does. They did it to my Nonno's family in Italy, and they're screwing us here in America as well. They can join the freaking club."

I looked at the papers in my hands, stark black printing on a blinding white. I almost reconsidered giving the pages to JJ. He'd been through enough all ready, and he likely wouldn't make it through an emancipation hearing. But if everything went as planned, Luke Maybank would rot in jail, and JJ would need foster care. We Pogues weren't about to let that happen. Even Kiara agreed that emancipation was JJ's best option.

JJ frowned at the pages, an unreadable expression coming over his face. I worried for a brief moment that he might blow up at me, and I frankly would have deserved it. I probably shouldn't even be trying to get in the middle of his personal matters, but I was worried about him. I wanted him to be okay.

"So what's the rest of your plan?" His voice was steely, a resolve I only heard in his voice when he was deathly serious. Like, help-me-hide-a-dead-body serious.

"It's a Pogue mission, you, me, Kiara and John B. Meet me at the dock behind my house. If you can, bring the keys to your dad's garage. If he really is dealing with Sangue, there should be something in his files that says where they're hiding Pope and Favio."

JJ nodded "Yeah, I'll be there."

I knew that standing up to his dad was really hard for JJ to do, standing up to the one person he had left. And I admired his bravery right now, but when push came to shove, there were so many things that could go wrong.

Pope had once called JJ an independent variable, that we weren't at all sure how he was going to react or what he was going to do. And since Cynthia's revelation, I was terrified of how he was going to react, and what he was going to do.

But I trusted JJ. I just had to trust that he also trusted himself.


NOTES!

so i'm going to start trying to wrap up the story soon, as I realize that I am losing a bit of motvation and do not want this to end up like my stranger things book where nobody reads it and i update once every six months.

so i'm going to start trying to wrap up the story soon, as I realize that I am losing a bit of motvation and do not want this to end up like my stranger things book where nobody reads it and i update once every six months

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𝚂𝙾𝙱𝚁𝙸𝙴𝚃𝚈 𝚆𝙾𝙽𝚃 𝚃𝙴𝙰𝙲𝙷 𝙺𝙸𝙳𝚂 𝚃𝙾 𝙳𝙰𝙽𝙲𝙴 ,, j. b routledgeWhere stories live. Discover now