The Enforcer or The Mafia Prince

It wasn't until her bedroom door slammed open, breaking her concentration, that Jessica realized something was wrong. A figure she didn't recognize was silhouetted in the door frame. Before she could register what was happening, someone grabbed her arm and dragged her down the hall to the living room. When the action finally stopped, Jessica was tied up between her parents in one of their old dining chairs. Her light brown hair was messy and covered her eyes. When she shook it aside, she looked into the face of a man she didn't recognize. Her mouth became dry, and she couldn't understand what to say or do. "Okay, Manuel, let's chat." A sharp voice from somewhere to her left snapped her out of her daze. Another man, much younger and nicely dressed in black slacks and a simple white button-down, pulled up the last chair, flipped it around, and sat down with his left ankle crossed over his right knee. The first man, the one that had pulled her away from her studies, walked over to the side of the room and stood with his hands clasped in front of him, not meeting her gaze. "I've told you. I will pay you back. Please, don't pull my wife and daughter into this," Jessica heard her dad say. "Well, you've been telling us that for a while now. Normally, we'd resort to more," the young man hesitated, looking at the two women in the room while choosing his words, "extreme measures. Luckily for you, my father values your business, and you've been a reliable partner for years. He's agreed to give you more time but feels you need more incentive to appreciate the gravity of your situation." With that, Heather, Jessica's mom, timidly asked, "What's going on? Manuel, do you know this man? I don't understand. What situation is he talking about?" Her voice was shaky, but Heather didn't break down or cower with the men's eyes on her. Jessica had to admit that her mom was brave; she was too scared even to consider asking questions, but even after everything that just happened, Heather didn't hesitate. The younger man made a sound somewhere between a half-sigh and a half-exasperated laugh. "Mrs. Hernandez, do you mean to tell me that your husband here hasn't told you anything about your family's dwindling financial situation?" Everyone in the room looked over toward Manuel. At that moment, her dad, her hero, looked so weak. He just sat there in his thin pajama pants and an old T-shirt, hung his head, and let out a nearly inaudible "No." "Well, seeing how this involves everyone here now, allow me to introduce myself. My name is Tristan O'Sullivan, and this gentleman with me is my associate, Declan Hamill. We are members of the organization financing your lifestyle for the better part of the last 27 years. Isn't that right, Manuel?" Manuel didn't look up or say anything, so Tristan continued, "You see, it was about that time that Manuel came to us asking for a loan. Then sadly, Mrs. Hernandez, you got sick last year. The healthcare system being what it is, how do you think you've been able to afford treatment? You haven't been working, your daughter is in school, and your husband only works part-time to care for you." No one spoke for several minutes. The clock over the fake fireplace ticked away, filling the silence while Heather grasped what Mr. O'Sullivan had just said. Jessica looked in front of her at the wall of family photos. How had they not known or questioned anything? It seems so obvious now. She had asked her father about delaying school last year, knowing things would get more financially and physically exhausting than they already were. Her parents were self-employed, so when her mom got sick, she lost her health insurance and had to close her office. It has been several years since then. Yet, something still bothered Jessica. Why had her dad borrowed money years before her mom got sick? The man standing off the side coughed, which caused Jessica to jump. She had forgotten he was still there; he had remained silent the entire time Tristan spoke. Jess glanced over and thought he was looking at her briefly. Still, he didn't make any signs acknowledging her, so Jessica continued letting her eyes wander the room, trying to settle on something to focus on if she couldn't focus on answers. She looked at the man sitting so calmly in front of them. Gathering her courage, "I don't understand, " Jessica said. "Why did my dad borrow money from you years ago?" To her surprise, when Tristan opened his mouth to speak, her mom's voice was the one to answer, accidentally interrupting the young man. "Your dad's company, honey. That's when he opened the store." The pieces came together. Jessica wasn't stupid, and her mind was beginning to catch up with her predicament. She was terrified now that she understood. Her dad had borrowed money from some shady men to open his store and again when her mom was diagnosed with cancer. Jessica could see her mom out of the corner of her eye. Heather's dirty blonde hair looked grayer than usual, disheveled around her face. Her mouth was set in a thin line, looking stern, and her eyes were red, but she refused to begin crying. Regardless, Jessica knew her mom was exhausted, having had a doctor's appointment that afternoon. As late as it was, she wasn't sure how much longer her mom could handle this stress. Why wasn't her dad doing or saying anything? It was as if he'd been turned to stone; he'd never been like this, and that, too, scared Jessica. The man she knew was loud and energetic, and boisterous. Even his hair, like his personality, refused to age. Dark as ever, Manuel's bangs covered his eyes and his shame. Tristan spoke up while adjusting his sleeves, not looking at her, "Admittedly, it was doing well initially, as you know. Through the '90s, we shared in the profits and floated the losses during the recession in the late '00s. The business has been steady for several years, so we haven't had a reason to meet. Amazingly, your husband has paid his interest back and even started paying down the principal amount, which is unique in our business. We enjoyed working together. However, he's missed almost three months of payments, unheard of in our line of work." "So what now?" Jessica asked. She couldn't stand the prolonged silence or feeling of vulnerability in her pajama shorts and tank with her hands behind her back. The chair was getting uncomfortable, and the rope made her wrists swell. "Well, that depends on you, dear. You see, we know your mom is too sick to travel, and your dad needs to work if he's ever going to pay us back." Jessica gulped. She didn't like where this was headed and began to fear what these two men could do to her. She looked down quickly and struggled to cover herself but could do no more than increase the pain in her wrists. "Don't be afraid. We're not here for whatever you're thinking of right now. We simply have a proposal for you and your father. We'd like it if you accompanied us for a while, just until your dad starts to pay us back, and then you'll be allowed to home safe and sound. After all, he can't care for you, your mom, and his company all at once, can he?" It sounded so calm and oddly reasonable coming from him. Nevertheless, Jessica understood the horrible reality of what he'd just said. "No!" Everyone immediately turned to Manuel. Her dad, realizing what was happening, had finally looked up and found his voice. "I beg your pardon," stated Mr. O'Sullivan, uncrossing his legs to lead forward and looking directly at Mr. Hernandez. "You heard me. I said no. I will not allow you to take my daughter. You can take me, the company, and my house, but I will not permit you to take Jessica." Her dad looked at him defiantly, and Jessica was shocked to see he had been crying. The only time she'd seen him cry was when Abbi died. "Well, Manuel, I don't think you get it. This isn't coming from me. This is coming from my father," intoned Tristan. At this, Manuel's tan complexion turned pale. "As you know, he never does things like this. He doesn't like to get the family involved. Well, not like this anyway, " Tristan chuckled. Jessica thought she heard a bit of bitterness in that statement. He continued, "If you come with us, you can't work. We're not interested in staffing a moderately well-to-do furniture store. No, that work falls on you. Plus, you have your wife to consider; Jessica here can't study and care for her simultaneously. A joint bachelor's master's in Computational Analysis and Public Policy doesn't sound easy. Adding a sick mother on top of that..., " he made a tsk-tsk sound with his mouth, "If she comes with us, we'll promise she'll continue going to school and going about her day-to-day life. Not only would she have the highest level of personal security, but we also plan to cover her daily necessities and costs. We're not kidnapping her nor holding her hostage. We wouldn't want to encourage unnecessary attention. Jessica can go out with friends, but you won't be permitted to see her until you pay what you owe. It's a great deal, really." At this, the wheels were beginning to turn in her head. Admittedly, having someone else pay her living expenses would help her dad and give him room to breathe. Plus, traveling between her parent's house and class took a lot of work. She wasn't going to ask how they knew what she was studying. Even Jessica understood that they were at a disadvantage and that she might not live if they disagreed. She also realized that if they fought this, only one thing was sure: her mom would not survive. "I'll go," Jessica whispered. Tristan turned to her and gave her a little smile. "I said no, Mija," Manuel stated firmly. Mr. O'Sullivan remained quiet, allowing father and daughter to handle the dispute between themselves. "Dad, I love you, but he's right. You need to stay with Mom. I'll be alright, you heard him. I can still go to school and everything." "You can't trust him, Jessica. You don't know who he is or anything about anything." "Whose fault is that!? You've been hiding this from us. Instead of telling us the truth and letting us work together as a family, you keep this a secret. I have to do what I think is best for Mom. I'm going." Before her father could object again, she interrupted, "Look at her; she needs to rest! We can't continue like this, " Jessica explained, infuriated at her father's misjudgment. "Sir, I've made my decision. I'll go with you; you'll promise to give my father the time to care for my mom and pay you back." She was telling as much as asking Tristan for his confirmation. "Of course, dear. Declan, take Jessica to her room to pack a bag while I speak with Mr. and Mrs. Hernandez about a few extra details," Tristan instructed. "Right away, sir." Declan untied the ropes binding Jessica's arms behind her back. She immediately stood up and rubbed her wrists. Moving her arms in front of her hurt more now that they were regaining circulation. She walked down the hall to her room and weakly looked around at a loss for what to do while Mr. Hamill watched from the door. She settled on a plan of action and walked across the room. Once on the other side of her bed, she turned to enter her bathroom. "Where are you going?". Declan took a small step forward, questioning her. "I'm just stepping into my bathroom to wash my face and grab what I need." She responded. "Hand me your cell phone first. Is there a window in your bathroom?" Jessica dishearteningly complied with the command and responded no. She had intended to call 911 from the bathroom, but her guard seemed to have read her mind. "It's almost as if they do this kind of thing often," Jessica thought. She rinsed her face with cold water and then looked in the mirror. Her eyes were red and stood out against her pale face. She looked more like her mom with brown hair and green eyes, but her dad showed in her unusually tan skin for the Midwest. It hurt to see her parents in her face knowing she was about to leave them. Jessica closed her eyes and shook the thoughts from her mind. Quickly, she grabbed what she needed out of the bathroom. Jess feared what would happen if too much time was out of sight. She packed her most comfortable clothes into the suitcase she pulled from under her bed. If she was going put up with these men for an unspecified amount of time, she might as well be comfortable doing it. No reason to dress up for these guys. Once her suitcase and backpack were packed, she looked around her room. She looked at the pictures of her friends and family on her dresser, the pink bedspread she had begged her mom for just a few years ago, back when she was still in high school, then said a small prayer in her heart for her parents. She looked at Mr. Hamill, "Okay, I'm ready." Returning to the living room, Jessica was relieved to see Mr. O'Sullivan had untied her parents. Her mother was resting on the sofa with an old throw blanket Abbi had made. "I'll give you a few moments to say goodbye, but we should be going quickly. It's getting late, and you'll want to sleep before your classes tomorrow. Who even takes an 8 AM class anymore?" Ignoring Tristan's awkward attempt to lighten the mood, Jessica hugged her mom. "Please, be strong. Keep taking care of yourself. I want to see you as soon as this is over." "I know, baby. I love you; don't be too angry while you're gone. Your dad messed up, but he's still a good man". Jessica listened to her mom but felt her heart harden. She wasn't sure how she would feel tomorrow, but right now, she wasn't ready to be forgiving. Still, she turned to him, "Dad, I love you." "I love you, too. I'm so so sorry." Manuel said as he wrapped his arms around her. She allowed her dad to hug her but only made a halfhearted attempt to hug him back. She was stunned by the evening's revelations and didn't know how they could move past this if they all made it out in one piece. When they pulled apart, Declan firmly grabbed her arm, taking care not to hurt her. "It's time to go now." The trio walked around the couch to the front door. Jessica told her parents she loved them one last time before stepping outside into the night, unsure of what would happen next.