Chapter 5
5
Ginny
T he whole walk to the car I can barely keep my thoughts in order. Dad’s dragging me along, muttering under his breath, and every time I try to ask him what in the world that meeting was about, he just shushes me like I’m a child asking too many questions. We get into his car and pull out onto the street, and he doesn’t seem willing to even breathe until we’re blocks away from Mateo Rossi’s place. Finally, when he seems like he’s not on the verge of a panic attack, I turn on him with all the fire I’ve been holding back.
“All right, Dad,” I snap, crossing my arms. “Are you going to tell me what the hell that was all about? What exactly is going on here?”
“Watch your tone, young lady,” he admonishes, but it comes out weakly. He sighs, rubbing the back of his neck like he’s about to give some rehearsed speech. “It’s complicated, Gin.”
I shake my head, not buying it for a second. “I’m not an idiot, Dad. I don’t have a single high-profile client, and all of my projects so far have been small. Mr. Rossi has plenty of money, he could hire the best interior designer in the city. So cut the bullshit and tell me what’s really going on.”
At that, he winces, his shoulders slumping. He looks at me, but I can see the guilt and shame in his eyes even before he opens his mouth. “I owe Mr. Rossi some money, okay?” he answers quietly, his face pale. “It’s not a huge deal, Gin. I mean, yeah, there were a few bets here and there. But nothing serious. Just… Things got out of hand, all right?”
I don’t want to shout at him in this confined space, but I can feel the frustration boiling over.
“What do you mean things got out of hand?” I say, my voice slightly raised, though not nearly as loud as I’d like to yell at him. “Dad, you promised us you were done with this. That you wouldn’t gamble again. How could you…?” I trail off, searching his face, the lines there, the hollow look in his eyes. “How could you drag me into this mess?”
He looks down, unable to meet my gaze. “I didn’t plan for it to go this way, Gin. You have to understand, ever since your mother…”
He doesn’t finish the sentence, but he doesn’t have to. It’s a tale as old as time, an excuse Cassidy and I have been hearing for years. How he started drinking and gambling to cope after Mom died, when we were too young to understand what was happening. We didn’t know that when he left at night, he was losing money we couldn’t afford, chasing something he thought would bring him luck. All those years, we’d watched him spiral, seen him blow everything we had left on another gamble, another drink.
It’s why Cassidy chose to go to culinary school in California. She wanted to get as far away from our deadbeat father as possible. But she felt so guilty leaving me, she decided to come back as soon as she could.
He’s an albatross around our necks, the thing that keeps us from being truly great. If it weren’t for him, maybe we’d have enough money to truly pursue our dreams and get out of Chicago. But if we did that, he’d probably drown in his despair, and there’s no telling what he would do to himself without us there to take care of him. To clean up his messes.
I close my eyes for a second, forcing myself to take a deep breath, to keep my anger in check.
“Dad,” I say, opening my eyes and trying to keep my voice steady. “How long has this been going on?”
He shrugs, scratching at his collar. “A while,” he answers vaguely, not willing to tell me the truth. “But it’s not like I had a choice. When you girls needed food, I got it, didn’t I? And I took care of the mortgage, too. I did everything I could—”
I interrupt, my voice sharp. “You could have asked for help, Dad. We could have figured something out together; we could have gotten you into rehab or something. Instead, you’ve kept this to yourself and allowed it to get way out of hand. So, level with me. Does Mr. Rossi really want me as his interior designer, or am I just some sort of pawn in your game?”
He looks shocked, his mouth opening and closing like a fish gasping for air.
“Ginny, no,” he stumbles, flustered. “It’s not like that at all. I would never do that to you. Mr. Rossi genuinely thinks you’ve got talent, honey. He’s trying to help, too. It’s nothing more than that.”
He’s talking too fast, a sure sign that he’s lying, making up a story as he goes. I know him well enough to recognize when he’s lying even to himself, trying to make a bad situation sound better than it is.
I sigh, pressing the palms of my hands tightly against my eyes as I try to organize my thoughts. Little fireworks explode in the darkness, and I have to take a deep breath so I don’t feel dizzy.
“Fine,” I say, finally meeting his gaze again. “I’ll take the job. I’ll work for Mr. Rossi. But, Dad, you’re done. No more gambling. If you do, I will never speak to you again.”
He looks taken aback, glancing away. “Gin, come on, baby,” he pleads, clearly already itching for his next fix. “It’s not that simple.”
“It is that simple.” I cross my arms, holding his gaze, my voice unwavering. “If I’m going to do this for you, then I need to know you’re finished with it. Completely. Or you’ll lose me, Dad. For good.”
He starts to protest, but the words die in his throat. I can see the defeat in his eyes, the acknowledgment that he’s backed into a corner. Finally, he nods, his voice barely a whisper. “All right, Gin. No more gambling.”
I hold his gaze for a moment longer, letting the weight of the promise settle between us. “Good.”
We sit in silence as he drives us back to the diner, and I try my best to keep my breathing even, to keep my temper in check. I don’t know what to make of Mr. Rossi, that’s true. He was nice enough to me, but I’ve seen his men hanging out around here. I know who he really is, what he really does. I don’t want to get sucked into the darkness of his world, but I don’t know what he’ll do to my dad if he can’t pay off his debts. At the very least, this could be good for my career. If there even is one by the end of this.
I walk back into the diner, going to the back to splash some water on my face and grab my notepad. Cassidy finds me there, a concerned look on her face.
“So, what was all that about?” she asks curiously, though there’s a sharp edge to her voice.
“I need some time off,” I answer, avoiding her question. If Cassidy knew what was really going on, she would cut Dad off completely. He’s run out of favors with her, and I don’t want to see this fracture our family for good. We only have each other at the end of the day.
“Why?” she asks coldly. “What’s he dragged you into?”
I plaster a fake smile on my face and look at her with confusion. The name of the game is to pretend.
“It’s actually a really exciting opportunity,” I lie, forcing my emotion down as I try not to think about exactly what I’ve agreed to. “Mateo Rossi needs some design work done at his house and he asked Dad if I’d be interested.”
“Bullshit,” she responds fiercely.
I shoot her a glare, keeping up the ruse that this is all real, that Mateo Rossi actually wants me for my design skills.
“You don’t think I’m up for it?” I ask, wounded.
She crosses over to me and clutches the tops of my arms, looking me meaningfully in my eyes. “Of course I think you’re up for it, Gin,” she says kindly. “You are amazing and you can do absolutely anything you set your mind to. I just don’t believe that Pops just happened to mention to Mateo Rossi that you’re an interior designer, or that Mr. Rossi just happened to need one right now. He doesn’t have that kind of luck, does he?”
I can’t answer her. “Tell me the truth, Gin,” she finally says.
“I’m not sure I know the truth,” I tell her honestly. “I don’t know what kind of deal he’s made with Rossi or what I’m getting myself into. But this is a big deal for me, Cass. Rossi owns properties all over town. He’s told me that if I do a good job on his house, he’ll let me work on some of his other places.”
Cassidy whistles lowly, impressed. “That’s actually kind of awesome,” she smiles, giving me a tight squeeze. “You could finally stop working at this dump and pursue your dreams.”
“Your diner isn’t a dump,” I shoot back fiercely, too proud of my sister to let her talk about herself that way. “This place is your dream, isn’t it? And if it isn’t, Cass, I can use some of the money I earn from Mr. Rossi to help you build your dream. It’s you and me against the world, right?”
Her eyes get glassy as they fill with unshed tears, and she holds out her pinky. I wrap my own around hers, a secret promise we’ve kept with each other since our mom died.
“It’s you and me against the world,” she repeats.
With that, I get back to my shift, taking orders and turning over tables until the diner finally closes late that night. While I work, I have time to think, and the more I turn it over in my head, the better this sounds. I can get out of Dad’s apartment while I do this project, and that’s definitely a plus. I can earn honest money doing the thing I love most and secure a huge client for my portfolio. Maybe, just maybe, our dad’s done something right. For once.
“Hey, kiddo,” he calls to me as we’re getting ready to leave for the night. I’m exhausted, dead on my feet, and though I’m excited to start my next adventure, I’m still annoyed with him for how it happened.
“Hey, Pops,” I yawn, grabbing his arm as we head out onto the street, toward his car.
“Listen, I was wondering if I could borrow a fiver to go get a lottery ticket. The jackpot is huge this week.”
I stop walking and stare at him, incredulous. He’s joking, right? He must be joking. But the earnest look on his face tells me that he’s serious. My stomach turns.
“No,” I say firmly. “You promised no more gambling. That includes lottery tickets.”
His face falls and he looks taken aback. He opens his mouth to argue, but I put up a hand to stop him.
“No,” I repeat, more firmly. “And I think I’ll walk home tonight.”