Chapter 4 - THE BOARDING HOUSE
“You are not leaving this dinner, Gabriel Romano!” Meredith shrieked, storming around the table and grabbing his arm. “We have fifty million dollars in corporate mergers resting on this wedding! If you walk out that door to chase a convicted felon, my father will pull the financing for your entire southern development project! You’ll be ruined!”
Gabriel looked down at Meredith’s hand on his sleeve.
With absolute, terrifying calm, he reached across with his right hand and slid the heavy platinum engagement ring off his own finger.
He dropped it into Meredith’s champagne glass. It sank to the bottom with a quiet clink.
“Tell your father to keep his money,” Gabriel said. “The wedding is off.”
Meredith screamed, a high, piercing sound of pure rage, as Gabriel turned his back on her.
He looked at me, and then at Vera.
“Vera, get your coat,” Gabriel said gently, offering his arm to the woman who had truly raised him. “Elise, you know this pawn shop?”
“It’s my uncle’s,” I said, stripping off my white serving apron and dropping it right onto Meredith’s empty plate. “I’ll drive.”
We left the sprawling, cold Romano estate in my beat-up Honda Civic. The contrast between the glittering crystal chandeliers we had just abandoned and the rain-slicked, neon-lit streets of the Southside couldn't have been sharper.
Vera sat in the passenger seat, weeping silently into a tissue, while Gabriel sat in the back, gripping the wooden compass box as if it were a lifeline.
When we pulled up to Sal’s Exchange, the neon OPEN sign was flickering.
We rushed inside. My Uncle Sal, a burly man with a thick gray beard, looked up from his polishing rag in surprise.
“Elise? What are you doing here in your good work clothes?”
“Uncle Sal, I need your help,” I said, slapping the yellow pawn ticket onto the glass counter. “A man pawned a gold wedding band here last Tuesday. Who was it?”
Sal frowned, pulling his reading glasses down from his forehead. He looked at the ticket, then at Gabriel standing behind me.
“I remember him,” Sal said softly. “Older guy. Looked like life had chewed him up and spit him out. He didn't want to pawn the ring. He kept rubbing the engraving on the inside before he handed it over. But he said he needed exactly thirty-eight dollars to buy a bus ticket across town.”
“Do you know where he went?” Gabriel asked, his voice cracking.
Sal nodded slowly. “He asked me for directions to the cheapest weekly boarding house in the district. I sent him to Miller’s on 9th Avenue.”
Ten minutes later, I parked the Honda outside a dilapidated, three-story brick building on 9th Avenue. The paint was peeling, and a single yellow bulb illuminated the front stoop.
Gabriel stepped out of the car into the freezing rain. He didn't even flinch. He walked up the concrete steps, with Vera and me close behind him.
The door to room 1B was scratched and dented.
Gabriel raised his fist. His hand hovered over the wood for five agonizing seconds before he knocked.
Heavy footsteps echoed from inside. The deadbolt slid back with a harsh metallic scrape.
The door creaked open.
Standing in the doorway was a man in his late fifties. His hair was completely gray, and deep lines of exhaustion were etched into his face. He wore a faded flannel shirt and work boots covered in sawdust.
But he had Gabriel’s eyes.
“Dad?” Gabriel choked out, the word tearing out of his throat like a physical wound.
Thomas Romano looked at his son. For a fraction of a second, raw, unfiltered agony flashed across the older man’s face. He looked like he wanted to fall to his knees and pull Gabriel into his arms.
But then, a cold, impenetrable wall slammed down behind Thomas’s eyes.
He didn't smile. He didn't reach out.
Instead, Thomas reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a folded, heavily creased legal document. He held it up between them like a shield.
“You made it very clear five years ago, Gabriel,” Thomas said, his voice grating like crushed glass. “You said if I ever came within a hundred feet of you, you’d have me sent back to federal prison for violating the harassment injunction.”
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Gabriel stared at the paper in horror. “What injunction?”
“The one you signed the day I got released,” Thomas said bitterly. He thrust the paper into Gabriel’s chest. “Go back to your mansion, Gabriel. You got your wish. I’m dead to you.”
