Cecilia #3
But then Brecken basically ghosted me. He returned to his hometown outside Boston and changed all his contact information. He even ran out on his lease, leaving his roommate high and dry.
Alice, outraged on my behalf, offered to fly to Boston and give Brecken what she ominously referred to as ‘The Treatment’.
“It’s not you,” she assured me over and over while I blubbered on her sofa with a melting container of cherry vanilla ice cream. “It’s him.”
Wrong. Turns out it wasn’t him.
But it wasn’t exactly me either.
I give Angelo my most contemptuous glare. “Just how long have you been spying on me and interfering in my love life? Am I allowed to date anyone without your approval?”
He snorts out more laughter, rocking back and forth. “Like there’s been a parade of admirers breaking down your door. Fuck, are you stupid? Did you really think Grandfather wouldn’t keep an eye on you?”
If I was braver, if I was Alice, I might snatch my half full metal water bottle and fire it at Angelo’s head in a fit of rage.
Every one of my fleeting relationships skates through my mind. It doesn’t take long.
The engineering major who decided to transfer to a school in Alaska.
The bartender who was working his way through law school but then very abruptly opted to go backpacking across Europe, never to return.
And then poor hapless Brecken, who fled to Boston, presumably under threat of physical dismemberment.
Were they all chased away? Paid off? Threatened?
Probably.
While I’m fretting over the pathetic tatters of my love life, my eyes land on a small ceramic dish on the floor.
“Where is Louisa?” I ask.
Angelo’s eyes narrow and he reaches into his jacket to grab his gun. “Who the fuck is Louisa?”
“My cat, you idiot.” I drop to the floor and start looking under the furniture. “Tell me you didn’t leave the door open after you broke in.”
“Jesus. A damn cat.” Angelo stops grabbing for his gun and helps himself to the second cupcake in the box. That one is strawberry flavored with buttercream frosting and I was really looking forward to eating it.
But yelling at Angelo is a waste of time. Anyway, I’ve got bigger problems and I’m no longer in a cupcake-eating mood.
After a frantic ten second search, a reassuring hiss of fury comes from beneath the living room end table. Angry green eyes peer out from a ball of fluffy grey fur. A follow up hiss warns that she’ll declare war if I reach out my hand.
Satisfied that Louisa is safe, I climb to my feet and face my brother once more. He’s busy pigging out on my last cupcake. There’s pink frosting on his chin.
“Why are you really here?” I ask him.
He wipes the frosting away with the back of his hand and flings open the door of the fridge. “Figures there’s no fucking alcohol. Don’t know how you cope with this shitty existence without getting piss drunk every night.”
“Angelo! Just pretend you’re a normal person for a minute and answer my question.”
He shuts the fridge and gazes at me without a shred of compassion. Only boredom tinged with annoyance. “We’re not normal people. We’re the fucking Grimaldis.”
Every muscle goes rigid. Instant fear burns through my blood. Even if Angelo happened to be in the Phoenix area, he wouldn’t bother to visit.
No, he was sent here for a specific purpose. One that is too complicated to be handled with a phone call.
My grandfather is pushing eighty and has already suffered two strokes. I won’t dance with joy if his health has taken a turn for the worse but I won’t shed tears either. He never showed me a trace of love.
“Is Grandfather sick? Is Matthias on the run again?”
Angelo sighs and looks troubled for the first time. “The old man will probably outlive us all. And I have no clue what’s up with Matthias.”
I’m terrified to ask the next question. But if any harm had come to Gabe then I’d surely know. I’d feel it in my bones. Part of me would have died too.
“And Gabriel?” I ask, barely above a whisper.
He heaves another sigh and rakes a hand through his hair. “Look, I didn’t make this fucking mess. I’m just here to give you the terms to clean it up.”
“WHAT mess? Where is Gabe?”
Angelo’s bloodshot eyes keep shifting. “He’s laying low. He’s in San Diego and he’s safe. For now.”
For now???
Whatever that means, it isn’t good.
My mouth goes dry and all the air leaves my lungs. “I need to talk to him.”
Angelo reaches into his back pocket. Gabe hasn’t answered any of my messages lately so I’m a little surprised when he seems to pick up a call from Angelo on the first ring.
“Hey. Our sister wants proof of life.” Angelo passes the phone over and waits with obvious irritation.
I’m shaking as I whisper my twin’s name into the phone. “Gabe?”
“Cici.” He sounds terrible. Frightened. Exhausted.
Memories flood back at the sound of my childhood nickname. No one except Gabe calls me that anymore. I don’t let them.
Tears sting my eyes but I exhale with relief that he’s in one piece. Anything else I can handle. “Are you all right?”
“No,” he says. He coughs and gasps out a sob. “Cici, I’m in really deep fucking shit.”