Work Text:
MICHAEL
Kay, my father's way of doing things is over...it's finished. Even he knows that. I mean in five years, the Corleone Family is going to be completely legitimate. Trust me. That's all I can tell you about my business.
KAY
Michael, why did you come here? Why? What do you want with me after all this time? Without even calling or writing…
MICHAEL
I came here because I need you... because I care for you.
KAY
Please stop it, Michael.
The Godfather, Part I
The thing about standing on a street corner with your boss, trying not to have the conversation about quitting on the day of his father’s funeral is that, once you keep going, you can’t stop.
That’s what Ken wants.
He zeroes in on her discomfort. The more Jess hedges, the more she tries to worm her way out of actually saying it, the more he presses and needles.
He’s got to have it out.
Jess feels sick to her stomach. He’s smiling at her like he expects her to change her mind halfway, to realize what a big mistake she’s making.
Jess stammers. She mumbles something about being grateful. About the need to move on. It’s time to part ways. But he’s not really listening. He keeps nodding, saying it’s fine, but she can see the way his cheeks have sunk in. The way his anger trickles down into his smile.
Calling her juvenile and “fucking dumb” doesn’t feel great, but she feels worse on his behalf. She always feels worse on his behalf.
And then Ken says, out of the blue, “What, you think I’m just gonna let you go?”
He says it with this eerie calm, lips twitching, half-revealing teeth.
Jess feels the stab of her black heels in her throat. “Well, that’s not up to you –”
“No, seriously,” he says, still smiling in that injured, spiteful way. “You think I’m gonna let you walk away like that?”
“We can talk options when you’re less upset, maybe -”
“Here’s the only option. You stay put and you don’t bring up this bullshit again.”
You stay put.
Jess opens her mouth. She’s well-accustomed to his tantrums. It’s just that, most of his outbursts have been, well, not about her. She’s always been the means, never the end. And she doesn’t think this is really about her now, but still. What the fuck? What can she say to that?
She clutches her phone in her sweaty palms. “I understand you’re upset, but I can – I can find you a replacement, I can get you a really good assistant –”
“I’m not upset and I don’t need a replacement. And there won’t be a replacement. Because you’re staying.”
He says all this like he’s briefing her, like she’s supposed to be taking notes.
“Ken -”
“We’ll talk after the funeral about raising your pay,” he says, shoving his sunglasses up his nose decisively.
“Thank you, but that’s not what I want –”
“What you want is to keep working for me, but this Mencken situation’s got you all confused. I get it. You can’t let that screw with you. We’re almost at the finish line.”
Fuck you, she thinks, and for once, she’d like to say it out loud.
But he’s already walking away from her, like they’ve settled things.
“Come talk to me after the funeral.”
Jess stabs the pavement with her heels, relishing the mortifying feeling in her toes.
Part of him is acting like the top dog. He has to own it—the CEO mantle. He’s got to show he’s got what it takes.
She gets that, on some level. But she thought, well, given all their years together that he wouldn’t try the same strategy on her.
They’ve talked about it, after all.
He told her what he intends to do. He let her in on his big play.
They were sitting in his town car right before dropping her off one night, and he leaned in and said, all hushed and meaningful, “I’m thinking it’s gonna be me. Just me.”
And Jess leaned in too and listened and nodded along, voicing some small concerns here and there, but going with it anyway. Always going with it. Because she’s always been on his team. She’s always wanted – and this sounds so fucking trite, she knows – what’s best for him. Because deep down she thinks this might work, he could work. He could be different. And maybe if someone gave him the keys to the kingdom, he’d stop self-destructing.
It feels disloyal to think of her boss as a ticking time bomb, but there it is.
Is it also disloyal to leave before it blows up in her face?
Jess has been in the wreckage before. She’s waded through the debris. She just can’t do it this time. Because this time, it’s not just her getting hurt. And maybe it never was.
There’s always laughter at a funeral.
Karolina passes her the Roman video. Jess declines politely, though she know she’ll watch it later. She sits with her back to the wall, nursing a warm wine flute, staring at the back of Mencken’s oily head. Everyone wants a piece of him, including Kendall.
She’s in the same room with the fucking president. This should feel worse somehow.
The group swarming around Mencken loses a head. Greg the Egg steps away from them. He’s always the tallest guy in the room, so it’s not hard to figure out where he’s going.
Jess stiffens when she sees him coming.
“Um, hello,” he says, waving his hand in front of her face, like he’s trying to catch her eye.
Jess gives him a small smile. “Hi.”
“How are you doing?”
“Um. All right. You?”
“Yeah, not too sad. I was pretty sad earlier. But this is a weird vibe, huh? Not very funeral-like.”
Jess shrugs. She doesn’t have the energy for this kind of roundabout small talk. “I guess.”
“So...Kendall told me to take you to a private room.”
Jess looks up at him. “Sorry?”
Greg ruffles the back of his head. “Yeah, he said you should wait for him in one of the, uhh, salons, or something. Like, the first room on the left over there.”
Jess cranes her neck. Kendall is still talking to Mencken and Connor. He hasn’t looked her way once.
“Did he say anything else?”
“No. Just to take you.”
Jess feels oddly light-headed. What the fuck is she still doing here?
But she follows Greg to the room on the left.
Of course he makes her wait. Jess tries not to pace. She tries not to pick apart the expensive flowers in the expensive vases.
She finds a comfy spot in an armchair and sits down, leaning her head all the way back, staring up at the ceiling.
She makes the mistake of falling asleep like that.
She feels so embarrassed – so open – when she blinks awake and sees his dark-lined face hovering above hers. His hand on her shoulder, shaking her.
Fucking amateur hour.
“Hey.”
Jess recoils a little as she straightens up, turning her head to the side, like she’s hiding tears, even though she’s completely dry.
Ken takes a step back. “Long day, huh?”
Jess nods.
“Sorry for making you wait,” he says with an eerily soft smile. “Had to do the rounds.”
Jess nods again, like there’s a spring at the back of her neck.
“Look,” he says, smile wavering, “we’re both tired and we both said some things we didn’t mean back there.”
Jess squints at him. He’s right. She’s tired and she drank too much of that warm wine.
“I meant it.”
“What?”
“I meant what I said...about me quitting.”
Ken scoffs. “You didn’t actually say the word ‘quit’, if you want to get technical about it.”
“It was heavily implied.”
“A lawyer might think different.”
Jess frowns. “You – you want to bring lawyers into this.”
He shrugs. “If I have to.”
“Why? Why are you doing this?”
Ken looks at her like he’s about to call her juvenile again. “Why am I doing this? I’m trying to stop you from ruining your life.”
“Thank you for the concern, but I can handle myself.”
“Uh-huh. Well, I don’t buy it. I mean, you’re clearly not thinking straight.”
Jess inhales. “Have you considered that maybe... you’re the one not thinking straight right now?”
Ken chuckles. “Really.”
“I know this is a hard time for you, but I just – I need you to accept my resignation, okay?”
“No. I already told you no.”
Jess pushes herself up from the chair. “Okay, well, it’s a formality. You have to accept. You can’t – you can’t keep me here.”
“Watch me.”
“What?”
“You think I can’t keep you?”
Jess stares at him. He looks manic. He’s toying with the stem of a white rose he’s plucked from a blue urn.
“You think I’m gonna let someone who knows everything about me and the family and the business just walk away?”
Jess stares at his fingers crushing the bulb, scattering the petals.
I don’t know everything. I don’t know anything.
“I’m willing to sign as many NDAs as you think fit.”
“You don’t fucking get it. NDAs are nothing. You’d have to wipe it all out. You’d have...you’d have to erase your mind. Okay? That’s the only way this could work.”
Jess wonders if she’s still asleep in that chair, if this is just an elaborate dream.
“Does it have to – does it have to be all or nothing?”
Hah. Like she doesn’t know the answer.
Ken stares her down. “You can’t leave.”
“Because I’m a liability?”
“Because it’s too fucking late.”
Jess stares at the petals on the floor. Was there an opening? Was there a point earlier where she could have left? There must have been.
“You’re in it now,” he says. “You can’t walk away.”
Jess wishes she could scream. She feels a dreadful thumping in her head.
“I’m not. I’m not part of this. I’m not your family. I’m not your wife or your kids. You can’t force me to stay. Or get custody.”
A muscle ticks under his eye. “Uh-huh. I kind of can, though.”
Jess shakes her head. Is the chair still behind her? Why is this room so big and empty? Why is it just the two of them?
“I can make sure no one ever hires you again. No one will touch you if I make a call. I can make that happen.”
No, she thinks, unbidden. Logan could.
He’s not Logan. She’s pretty sure. She’s almost sure.
“Fine,” she says, straightening her shoulders. “Go ahead. Make the call. I can buss tables or wipe hospital floors, I don’t care.”
“Sure. We both know you’d never do that. But even if you tried, none of those places would take you either.”
That glint in his eye, like a spinning pinwheel, like a small, dying firework.
“Ken. You don’t sound well.”
“How am I supposed to sound? You’re trying to leave me.” He lets his arms fall to the side, like he’s standing in the middle of traffic.
Jess feels them then. The tears pricking the corners of her eyes. Rolling down her cheeks.
Fuck, she wasn’t supposed to cry in front of him. But – you’re trying to leave me.
Ken stares at her tear-stained face. “You fucking stayed when I was a pariah, when my dad wanted to cut my throat and everyone was freezing me out. You stayed. And you’re leaving now? When I’m about to take over? When you could be there with me to see it happen? Jess, we could fucking rule this.”
Her sob is a choked laugh. “No.”
“Yes. Yes, we could. All your hard work, all those late nights, all the time we – it has to matter. It has to lead to something.”
Jess swallows. “Yeah. It’s led us here. You’re on your path, I’m on mine.”
Ken takes her hands in his. She doesn’t know when he got so close.
“No. This is the path. What we did. What we went through. We’re on the path, Jess.”
She hates how easily he slips in the “we”. How natural he makes it sound.
“I can’t go with you,” she says, unable to take her hands back. His thumb keeps rubbing circles.
“We’re already there, Jess.”
The conviction in his voice is chilling. She doesn’t even notice when his hands come up.
He’s cupping her face. Oh God.
He holds her face. He strokes her wet cheeks. “You stayed because you care. You still care. Don’t you?”
Jess closes her eyes. She’s crying harder now. Right into his hands. Giving him her tears for free.
Maybe there will be a video of her too. And people will watch it and snicker. Maybe that’ll distract them from Roman. See how helpful she can be?
“Please,” she mumbles, barely able to get the word out.
She feels him pulling her head forward, pulling her towards him. Her face is muffled by his shirt. He’s hugging her. He’s holding her to his chest. Where she can feel the heartbeat.
So tight, too tight.
He presses his lips to her forehead and hair. “Shh. It’s gonna be all right.”
Jess feels overwhelmed. They’ve never touched like this. There used to be lines, clear lines, even when they were whispering together in a town car.
She can’t stop crying.
Ken rubs circles on her back. He speaks into her ear, holding her tight. “I’ll handle Mencken, okay? We’ll get rid of him if we have to. He’s in our pocket. We control the narrative. He thinks he’s safe but he’s not.”
Jess tries to breathe, but she’s only inhaling aftershave and it doesn’t help.
A cynical part of her thinks the discussion with Mencken must have gone sour. Maybe he won’t block the GoJo deal after all.
But another part goes along with it. Always goes along.
“Listen,” he says, pressing his lips to her ear, “I’ll never let anyone hurt you or make you afraid. I’ll kill them first, okay? I’ve done it before.”
The thing about her boss is that he always means it, even when it’s not true. And you don’t know if it isn’t.
In his mind, he probably does it daily. Pictures them dead. He’s already killed every person outside this room.
Jess shudders in his arms. Her hands are pinned to his chest. She can barely move.
“And you know, we don’t have to worry about custody yet,” he adds, like an afterthought. Like they’re mom and dad. “I can tell you disagreed with that. But we don’t need to worry about that yet. The kids – the kids can wait.”
Jess turns her head slightly. She looks at the outside world with one tearful eye. The image is dim, but the feeling is not.
“The kids can wait,” Ken repeats, pressing his lips to the top of her head. Like closing a door.
Jess shuts her one good eye.
She can feel him all around her, arms tightening. No way out.