5. Five
Five
Rosie
T rue to his word, Vic makes me work Friday and Saturday with him. And by work, I mean sit down all day and only move to serve him his food.
Jess was understanding and said I could start when I was ready. I assured her, come Monday, I’d be there at the crack of dawn. Monday can’t come soon enough.
Sitting here reminds me of the etiquette classes I had to take as a child to become a brainless drone of a wife for my impending arranged marriage.
I remember staring at Mrs. Doubeaux as she practically hammered information into me but not seeing or hearing shit. My mind found faces, animals, and shapes in the crimson damask wallpaper just over her shoulder in our formal sitting room. Twenty hours a week over several years taught me the significance of silverware and its precise positioning. Find the perfect balance between being visible and unheard, skillfully conversing and gathering pertinent information for my future husband’s benefit. The epitome of a Mafia Stepford wife, always perfectly put together and eager to please.
That was when I got the first itch to run, which only intensified as time passed.
“Well, I like this, but maybe we can change a few things. Like this, and this.” A customer is busy looking over Vic’s design.
I peek at the tablet and internally nod my head. He’s good at what he does. I’ve watched countless customers leave extremely satisfied with their new ink over the past couple of days. However, this customer has made him change the design three times. It wasn’t this, or it wasn’t that. I get it, though. It will be permanently inked into her skin, so it should be perfect.
I check out the fairly simple butterfly on a rose with a geometric pattern as the backdrop, but it’s missing more of the feminine touch she’s looking for, and the colors are wrong.
I look over at Vic, who’s irritated, but hiding it well, from his pinched brow and clenched fist at his side. You can tell this doesn’t happen often. Everyone else I’ve seen so far has loved their designs, and his portfolio on the coffee table is impressive, although I’d never tell him.
“Come back in around an hour. Let me fix a few things.”
She walks out, and I stand from my throne of boredom with a stretch I feel down to my toes.
“So, I was thinking...” I say as I look over at him.
“Oh, no,” Vic says in a mocking tone as he grabs his tablet and walks away.
I ignore his comment and chase him. “Maybe we can work something out...”
“Not interested,” he calls over his shoulder .
I grab his arm before he can walk any farther. He looks down at where my hand touches his skin. “Can you let me finish at least?”
“No.”
I continue anyway, not deterred by his dismissal. “Okay, great. So I was thinking I could draw her up something. If she prefers my drawing over yours, I’ll get to do something I want at some point and you can’t tell me no.”
“No,” he repeats for what seems like the millionth time before pulling his arm away.
“Why are you such a dick?”
“Why are you such a pain in my ass?”
“Because I want to do more than just sit around all day. I’m sick of it.”
“And I’m sick of listening to you bitch and moan.”
“Then give me something to do.”
“No.”
“God, I can’t stand you,” I say as I rip my notebook and pencil off the counter and stomp to the waiting area.
I gaze at the woman holding up the glass table that mocks me. I’m tempted to paint clothes on her when Vic’s busy. With how vindictive and petty I’m feeling, I might just do it. Maybe add a couple of dicks, too.
I look up, and the bastard stares at me with a smirk. He catches me looking all the time with that same stupid smirk that’s one step from a blinding and malicious smile.
She’s definitely getting painted.
I open my notepad that I have yet to use and go to work.
What I love about art is how you can express and release your emotions, allowing them to flow freely from within and onto the canvas. Right now, irritation and competitiveness are the dominant emotions coursing through me because of his dismissal.
I was only a child when I discovered my deep passion for art, and it only grew once I started college. Professor Skies was so patient and had such a guiding light. It was the first time I felt liberated, no longer stifled by my father’s critiques of my paintings. Then, I received a request from a fellow art enthusiast to commission a piece, which cemented my decision. I would pursue my passion regardless of the cost.
My professor taught me to ask the client every question imaginable and watch their movements, what they wore, and their personality. All this plays a role and Vic’s missing that one important step.
Again, his design is good, more than good, but sometimes it needs more of a delicate touch. She wore a pink dress and rhinestone sandals with a bag and sunglasses to match. She seemed delicate and sweet even when she continued to turn down his design.
Vic’s client walks back in as I add the final details to the petals and the tiny jewels sporadically placed throughout.
She looks over his design with a critical eye, and I see the small frown form between her brows. “This is good, but I don’t know. Maybe I should just wait.”
I stand and walk over. I understand this is highly inappropriate, and I’m crossing boundaries, but honestly, I don’t give a shit.
I want to feel like I have a purpose while I’m stuck here. Hopefully, I can negotiate a deal with him once he realizes my value.
“I have something that might work,” I say and receive narrowed eyes from Vic .
“Oh, this is cute. I like the jewels. They could really pop if we did them in different colors, right?” She looks over at me, and I look at Vic. In an instant, my palms turn clammy and perspire. I turn my attention back to her when Vic remains silent.
“I think it will, especially with your skin tone.”
“Right, I was thinking the same thing. I like this.”
I give Vic a very satisfying fuck you smile and walk away.
Rosie, one.
Vic, zero.
Silence fills the car, adding to the already tense ambience as Vic and I drive back to his house.
I hoped to go out and celebrate my new job with a little window shopping and some kind of chocolate dessert, but he firmly rejected my request with a resounding no. That word seems to be his all-time favorite, always on the tip of his tongue. After winning the client over with my design, his demeanor toward me turned as cold as ice. I’m not surprised. I know I stepped on his toes.
The only saving grace for tonight is the comforting weight of the cardboard box in my hands. I rip the box open with too much enthusiasm and look at my shiny new phone. As I turn it on and go through the prompts to set it up, I catch sight of Vic walking by. Dressed in boots, dark jeans, and a black hoodie; he’s looking like nothing but trouble. I run to my door .
“Where are you going?”
“Out,” he murmurs but doesn’t turn around.
“So you get to go out, but I have to stay in on a Saturday night?”
“Yep. Stay inside. Don’t go anywhere or answer the door. I’m setting the house alarm when I leave. There’s takeout in the kitchen.”
“Okay, Dad,” I say.
He keeps his back rigid and clenches his hands tightly at his sides, yet he remains silent as he strides down the hall.
Unbelievable.
I can’t believe I semi-successfully ran away from home just to be locked in a house again while he goes off and does who knows what every evening. Starting next week, I will be changing things.
I glance back at my abandoned phone resting on my bed and release a sigh. At least this will occupy my time for a while. The first app I’m installing is for a car service.
“Oh my fucking God. I thought something happened to you. Why haven’t you answered any of my calls or texts?” My best friend Alexa yells at me through the phone.
“I broke my phone when I fell out of my window.”
Alexa cackles in my ear, and I can just imagine her doubled over with tears in her eyes.
“Not funny. It hurt like hell.”
“Maybe a little funny. Are you okay? Where did you end up, anyway?”
“A small town on the border of Illinois and Indiana.”
“But I thought...”
“I got intercepted.” I sigh.
When Alexa and I brainstormed my escape in the past, the plan was always the West Coast. I’d hop on multiple buses until I saw the sun and beaches. A plane ride, while quicker, would be a no-go because of the ID checks. The plan was never further east or so close to my father’s reach.
“What the hell does that mean?”
I bite down on my lip, wrestling with the dilemma of whether to disclose the truth about Gage to Alexa. Although he didn’t explicitly mention keeping it a secret from her, his intention was obvious—she was meant to be left in the dark, too.
But I plan to bring her into the light.
During his absence, he didn’t acknowledge a single letter I sent. After being released from prison two years ago, he remained silent until the moment I literally collided with him.
My allegiance does not belong to him. He has to earn that.
“Gage found me.”
Dead silence fills the phone. “Hello?”
“He-he’s back?” she asks in a barely audible whisper.
“Yeah, and he’s not the same.”
“What do you mean?”
“Imagine him from before. Honest. Sweet. Understanding. Now throw that version in the trash. He turned into a hard man, Lex. You can see the ruthlessness in his eyes, but he did hit one of the guards over the head to knock him out cold to save me, so maybe he’s not all bad.”
“Which one?”
“Alfonso.”
“No way.”
“Yeah, he had blood trickling from his head while he was lying on the ground. I even got to kick him in the ribs on the way out,” I say with a triumphant smile .
“You should have kicked him in the balls so he’s unable to procreate. He always gave me the creeps with his leering and weird comments about our clothes.”
“For real. Maybe next time.”
“Who are you and what have you done with my best friend? First, running away, and then violence... Please tell me you’ve already made two horrible decisions but regret nothing.”
“I haven’t been able to do shit since Gage happened.”
“So he’s really back?”
“Yep. Just be thankful you haven’t run into him yet.”
“Yeah, I guess so,” she says with a sigh.
I’m sure she’s upset that he hasn’t found her yet. They were best friends, and he brushed her off, just as he did to me.
“Where are you staying? With him?”
“No, he dropped me off at some friend’s house who is now my babysitter.”
“A girl?”
“No. A dick. I swear he makes me want to poke out his eyeballs.”
“Is he cute?”
“No, he’s ugly as hell and a total asshole. I mean, I get he’s helping me out, or more like helping Gage out, but fuck, is he irritating. I don’t want to talk about me, though. Tell me about you. Are you okay?”
I deflect. He’s far from ugly, but the total asshole is spot-on.
While I’m thankful for his efforts to keep me safe from my father’s wrath and the countless enemies our family has amassed, I can’t help but think that he’s being a bit too overprotective and a dick just for the sake of being one to me.
“I’m good, Ro. Real good. You’d like it here. ”
Luckily for Alexa, her father is understanding and sweet. My brother, Marco’s, actions caused his and Alexa’s arranged marriage to unravel, resulting in her leaving college, where she and I had been living together until just a few months ago.
For the next few months, she’s liberated from the constraints of her future and gets to enjoy herself, thanks to her dad’s generosity. As an only child, she will be one of the pioneering female Capos in Chicago once her father and the other bosses pass on the leadership torch to the next generation of heirs. Which is badass and a position I know she will flourish in. Me, not so much. Thankfully, my brothers were born so I don’t have to take on that bloody role. Although, I think mine as a bargaining chip for one of the families is just as unfortunate.
I hear a car alarm beep and noise coming from somewhere close. I peek through the curtains as two dark silhouettes stalk to the back. Their figures are bathed in the soft glow of the motion light as they approach the guesthouse.
Vic pulls a giggling, stumbling blonde along. From his side profile, his expression is passive.
Not happy, or sad, or even mad.
Just blank.
Bored.
Vic turns around right before closing the door. Our eyes meet as he looks up at my window, and time stands still. Neither of us moves. Then, a taunting smirk pulls on his face.
What is up with that smug look?
Is it because I’m fucking Rapunzel? Stuck in an ivory tower while he’s doing whatever he’s doing? The look deserves to be smacked off his face .
“Fuck you,” I mouth to Vic before turning away from the window.
“Hey, you still there?”
“Yeah, sorry.” I shake my head.
“Can we talk tomorrow? They just delivered our dessert.”
“Yeah. Love you, Lex.”
“Love you, Ro.”
I throw my phone on the bed and look back at the window. My feet take a few steps, and my hands touch the black velvet curtain, but I retract my hand and flop on my bed.
Why do I even want to look outside? Who cares if he brings some girl back here?
He probably has a small dick and lasts five seconds. She’ll leave disappointed and unsatisfied. A small smirk plays on my lips at the thought of him lacking in bed.
But I can’t help but think of our interactions during the past couple of days. Some of those moments piss me off, while others give me the chills, and worse, flickering in my stomach. Not butterflies, because I seem to detest the guy and reserve butterflies for guys I like. Not that I’ve ever felt them before.
His stupid, handsome face moves into the forefront of my mind. Who am I kidding? Someone like him, who exudes so much sexual energy with each step he takes, each word he states, and every look or touch he makes knows exactly what he’s doing and probably does it well. He could probably write a book on the art of sex and seduction. Not that I’d know anything about either of those subjects. Well, besides books and porn. The latter is more of an educational viewing than anything else, of course .
I just want to know how my life has changed so drastically in the past couple of days. Time will tell if this was for the best or if running was the biggest mistake of my life.
Four Nights Ago
“You can’t do this to me. Please don’t do this to me. I can’t marry Manuel. I don’t like him,” I plead from across the dining room table.
I turn to Mama, silently begging her to intervene. Since it was arranged for her to marry Papa, she knows my heartbreak. Her sympathetic gaze is filled with tears as she looks at me, while Papa’s expression remains passive. He’s an uncompromising and controlling man who insists on having his way, even if it harms others.
“You will marry him. This is not up for discussion, Rosalinda.”
“But...”
“We’ve been planning this for an extremely long time. You know this, and you will do as you’re told. It’s your duty as a member of this family. We all have to make sacrifices.” Papa’s voice grows louder. He’s clearly irritated by me challenging his authority.
I stand abruptly, the chair scraping against the marble floor, while a rage jolts through me like I’ve never felt before.
I have busted my ass to be everything my father has wanted, and for what? To get thrown into a lifelong situation without my consent. To a guy who makes my skin crawl. Just in the name of strengthening the alliance between our families?
“I never agreed to this. I don’t want to be exchanged like some currency. Please don’t make me do this. I beg you,” I say, looking at Papa while I hold back tears. He doesn’t like those; he considers it a weakness and they won’t help my cause in the least.
“I’m tired of your dramatics. Marco will drive you back to your dorm tomorrow morning and you will grab all of your shit. Playtime is over. If you continue to be a disappointment, I will make your life a living hell. Gladly offering you to one of the other families in Boston at a discounted price, just to ease the constant headache you cause. Now sit down and eat.” He hits the table with his palm, making Mama and me flinch.
“You promised me. You said I could finish out the rest of my semester. What about the art exhibit I have in a couple of weeks? It’s not—”
“I don’t give a fuck what I said or about your waste of time art exhibit.”
Tears well up behind my eyes, stinging with an intensity that I refuse to release. I have thrown my heart and soul into this exhibit. I saw this as an opportunity to prove to my father the extent of my skills. Many nights, as I worked on the pieces, I hoped and prayed for him to appreciate my art. To see me as someone with talent and purpose.
I take one last look around the room. First at Marco, my brother, who keeps his head down, eating food without a care in the world. Then at my mother, who’s looking down at her hands in defeat, before staring at my father, who looks pretty pissed at my outburst. What my father says is always final. I know I won’t get any help to convince him otherwise .
These are times I wish my brother, Gage, was home. He was always compassionate and would stand for what was right, even if he got hurt in the end.
I can’t wait for him to come back.
I decide I’m no longer hungry and stomp to my room. I don’t say another word, even when Mama calls my name.
Even when I can feel the glare of death from Papa.
This is the first time I’ve been so outspoken, and I’d give myself a pat on the back if I wasn’t so terrified he’d come after me.
Marco and I came home for our parents’ anniversary and a quick dinner, and we’ll return to our dorms early in the morning. I was so excited to be home, spending time with my mom, and now I wish I had stayed in my dorm.
Papa’s promise of time gave me hope, but now both are gone. I refuse to marry someone I don’t choose. I’m running away, and I’ll actually succeed this time.
I feel for the texture of my old backpack from high school at the top of my closet. Then, I quickly tear down a few pieces of clothing, the straining and snapping of hangers echo around me.
The plush carpet cushions my hands and knees as I lower myself onto the floor. I tug at the bottom drawer of my closet dresser system, which slides out effortlessly, almost too easily from years of removing it so frequently.
My secret hiding spot. I anxiously grab the discolored white envelopes and clutch them to my chest, treating them like a priceless treasure. These letters are my solace when I’m upset, my company when I feel alone, and my source of joy when I need a smile on my face. I fan them out. Each is equally important to me—two hundred and three letters total. I would receive two letters a month, sometimes three, depending on how quickly the post office delivered them. I run my finger across the writing on the front, feeling the deep indentations he left by pushing so hard.
My very first letter.
Carefully, I unfold the letter with its worn and tattered edges, evidence of the countless times I’ve opened and closed it.
Dear Rosie,
You don’t know me, but I kind of know you. I hope this isn’t already creepy. I just want someone to talk to, I guess. I see that you write your brother, but he never writes back, and since you take the time to write to him, maybe you can write to me, too?
If not, it’s cool, I understand.
Gage tells me you draw. I do too. Maybe I can send you something? If you want, of course.
Anyway, if you don’t write me back, it’s okay. I just don’t have anyone to write, and it gets lonely sometimes.
- Rush
Despite his abandonment of writing to me months ago, I refuse to let these letters suffer the same fate. I refold the letter and shove it into my backpack with the rest, along with a couple of photos, before looking out the window.
It’s now or never.
I float on the water’s surface in the late Sunday afternoon sun. My limbs are limp, surrendering to the gentle current. The sun’s heat kisses my face while a gentle breeze whispers through the trees, offering me a moment of tranquility I haven’t experienced since leaving my parents’ house. I thank the credit card gods above for the expedited shipping that had my new cherry-print bikini arriving in less than twelve hours. Thanks, Gage.
I hear someone’s steps and open my eyes as I watch Vic pull a different girl to the guesthouse. His eyes never leave mine, and I feel like it’s a challenge, so I continue to stare even after they’re already inside. I wonder if Gage knows how busy his friend is.
I see a flash of blond hair before a splash breaks the silence. Axl pops his head up from the water.
“I heard you’re going to work at Sweet Escape.”
“Yep.”
“Can you put in a good word for me with Jess?”
I snort. “Not a chance.”
“Why not?”
“She may just be the nicest person I’ve ever met, and you happen to be on her shit list. Seems like you must’ve done something pretty bad to upset her.”
“I’m trying to fix it,” he says in a serious tone, devoid of the usual humor I’ve come to expect over the past few days.
“What have you done to fix it?”
“I apologized.”
“Sometimes it takes time and more than just a sorry.”
“It’s been years. I don’t know what else to do.”
My lip sits between my clenched teeth as I ponder what to say. I’m mindful of not overstepping the new friendship I’m building with Jess, so I go for a vague response.
“Sometimes it helps to make the other person’s life easier. Offering help before she asks, getting her flowers or her favorite food just because. Simple gestures go a long way to show the other person you’re thinking about them and you care.”
“Okay,” he says, looking off into the distance like he’s thinking hard. “What else?”
I look at his neck. His hickeys are beginning to fade to blotchy yellows. “If you want Jess as more than a friend, you should rethink your extracurricular activities.”
The door opens, and I whip my head to the left as Vic walks behind the girl he just brought back there no more than three minutes ago.
“What the fuck are you doing in the pool, Ax?”
“Having a heart-to-heart.”
Vic’s eyes meet mine, but he doesn’t utter a word as he escorts his friend out. He walks back with a murderous look, and I cluck my tongue. I have this undeniable urge inside me to irritate him and get a rise out of him.
He’s been up and down with me for days, which is confusing as hell.
“You know, they have pills for that.”
“For what?”
“Your problem.”
“Which is?” he asks in a bored tone.
“You seem to have many, but right now, your little friend left pretty quick.”
Axl laughs as Vic finally catches up.
“I don’t have any problems in that department.”
“Whatever you say.”
“You’ve been in the pool since morning. Maybe you should get out and take a nap or something. ”
“I’m not fucking five, and why are you watching me in the pool?”
“Yeah, Vic. Why are you watching her in the pool?”
“Fuck off, Ax.”
“I probably should,” Axl says with a sigh. “Thanks for the help.”
“Anytime. You owe me a favor.” I level Axl with narrowed eyes.
Even though I have no desire to involve myself with the Mafia, I understand the value of keeping connections and collecting favors for potential future use.
He nods his head as he gets out of the pool. “Deal.”
“No fucking deal,” Vic snaps.
“You need to lighten up.” I snap back with the same bite as him.
Vic’s penetrating eyes lock onto me as he confidently descends the steps and immerses himself in the water. Fully clothed.
Oh fuck.
My eyes widen in disbelief as he menacingly continues to approach me. I stand my ground, unmoving, like a statue, despite my inner desire to retreat. If I wasn’t already in the water, I’m sure my palms would be sweating.
“I’ll just be going.” We both ignore Axl’s admission.
Vic stands over me as I look up into his eyes with a giddy smile I shouldn’t feel. I remember when I was small, maybe seven or eight, I had this nasty little habit of smiling when I got reprimanded or in tense situations when uncomfortable. It was something I broke as I got older, but for some reason, I can’t stop the smile on my face. I bite the inside of my cheek, willing myself to stop. I can’t believe he’s managed to pull this dormant habit out of me. Perhaps it’s the constant verbal sparring between us since I arrived, or maybe it’s the captivating sight of his black tee shirt clinging to his body, shaped by the water, that I find myself unable to look away from. Out of my peripheral vision, of course.
“Why are you trying to get on my last fucking nerve?”
“I have no clue what you’re talking about.”
“Oh, but I think you do. What’s with the comment earlier?”
“It was more of an observation. She left quick and without a smile on her face.”
“And what does that mean?”
“No clue.”
“I don’t have any problems.”
“Okay.”
“I’m fucking serious.”
“Okay.”
“Since we’re here, let’s discuss yesterday. We aren’t making any deals. You will come to work, and you will leave, and there will be no favors from any of the guys.”
“The favors between me and someone else don’t concern you.”
Vic pushes his weight against me, making me take a step back, the water not helping me stand tall and unwavering as I need.
“Everything you do concerns me. So just be good and stay out of my fucking way, for the love of God.”
Stay out of his way? When have I been in his way?
His eyes go wide as I move into his space because he’s now pissed me off.
As our bodies press together, my breasts brush against his chest, causing him to draw in a sudden breath and his jaw to tense as his eyes focus on our connection.
“Seems that you’re the one in my way right now.”
“Don’t fucking start something you can’t finish, Princess.”
“Who says I can’t finish? ”
“Me.”
“You don’t know me at all.”
“I know you better than you think.” He grabs my chin between his thumb and forefinger, giving it a tight squeeze. “I will tarnish your little crown of rainbows and butterflies and send you back to Gage before you know what to do with yourself.”
My throat goes dry and itches with a need to swallow, but I remain still.
What the hell did he just say?
I stand there, unable to move, as Vic’s thumb glides across my parted lips. As his thumb brushes against my skin, I can feel the softness with a hint of calluses, sending a tingling sensation through my body. And then the damn flutters start.
I’d be tempted to run my tongue against my li, and even his finger, if I weren’t so shocked by his words.
“Don’t have anything to say now, do ya?”
Vic turns around without another word or backward glance.
I stay in the pool long after my fingers have pruned. When the sun has made its descent and the evening chill has set in.
I sit in the dark water and analyze what he said to where it makes no sense and all the sense.
Tarnish me how?
He has treated me like someone would a bothersome gnat since I arrived.
One thing I do know, it was a warning. One that I should heed, but since being here, I’ve felt the first stages of freedom, though small, and I’ll be damned if I lose that feeling.