Chapter Three-Maria
CHAPTER THREE-MARIA
A nna and Giselle turn out to be really wonderful.
Sweet, pretty, kind.
I make them two Orange Crushes, sort of a Jersey specialty drink. One is virgin for the expectant mama, but the fresh orange juice and splash of lime soda are still delicious.
I can see by the way they act with each other, they’ve been friends for a long time.
My chest gets tight, and I wonder if I’ll ever have something like that. Maybe I could have. I mean I had friends in high school and college. Maybe I still would, if I hadn’t run away.
But I did run.
And that changes everything, doesn’t it?
I know without a doubt I was an idiot coming to this place, searching for sanctuary.
I see the way Nico is with Anna, and I know now that I was just kidding myself, thinking I ever stood a chance.
He was never for me. Truth is, I don’t feel that way about him.
I don’t feel that way about anyone.
It is hard to catch feelings when you’re always in costume. That’s what this is.
My bartender ensemble. My name. Maria. It’s all a costume, right?
I mean, that’s how it started.
But I see Giselle and Anna with her man, and I wish for things I have no right wishing for.
Companionship.
Friendship.
Love.
If only there was a man for me. But he would have to be special, you know?
Like someone who won’t mind that I’ve never even seen a dick up close and would have no idea what to do with one if I did.
Someone who won’t care that I’m a bonafide liar .
I shake my head. Tired of the same old pity party.
Get a grip, I tell myself.
I’m not here to make friends or find love. I am here because Mami needs me.
Someone is shouting for a bartender, and I wave goodbye to Giselle and Anna and I turn to my next customer.
The bar is crowded, and the DJ is slamming tonight.
The Viper’s Den is a total hot spot. So deceiving from the outside. But lies are a real theme around here.
The Vipers pretend to be regular businessmen, but I know the truth. They’re criminals. Gangsters. Mafia. Whatever you call them, it all adds up to one thing.
They are violent, unhinged criminals.
And I am surprisingly okay with that. In fact, I need that in my life.
The Vipers are the only ones I know strong enough to take on Matteo Sanchez.
His brother Junior has taken over the cartel, and word is, he turns a blind eye to the nefarious goings on of his brother.
I cringe as I think about Matteo’s threats, and the plans he has for me if he ever finds me.
It seems silly after six years, thinking he is still looking. But I know it’s not silly.
He’s been coming by more frequently, ever since Mami got sick.
That rotten bastard is crazy if he thinks I will ever be his.
“Yo! I’m trying to get a drink here,” the customer shouts, and I snap my gaze back to him.
Terrific.
He’s obviously drunk, even though it’s early. I’m already shaking my head even as I place a glass of ice water down in front of him.
“Have some water,” I say, but he glares at it.
“What’s this? Nah, baby, lemme get a shot of Henny,” he slurs.
I bite the inside of my cheek to stop from rolling my eyes.
I can’t tell you how many people try to put on a front, pounding back shots of Hennessy like they are superstars, instead of savoring the cognac as is recommended by experts.
I’m not particularly fond of the stuff myself.
We just got a new shipment of platinum bottles from Whiskey Neat, and I have to admit I love that Jersey based label.
“Sorry, no can do. Have some water right now, okay? I can bring out some pretzels and check on you in a bit,” I say, trying to placate him.
“Did I ask you for pretzels, puta ?” he explodes.
He slaps the glass of water, so it shoots backwards and spills all over the bar and splashes on my face and chest, plastering my silk shirt to my skin.
He steps on the footrest and reaches over the bar, his hands clawing at me.
I don’t know why I can’t move or run or, I don’t know, something .
But I can’t.
I’m just frozen in place. Like a statue.
My heart is beating a mile a minute and I’m breathing like a marathon runner as flashes of another man’s hands grabbing at me come flooding into my brain.
The bar is dark, but there are ambient lights. This man is just the right height and build to remind me of Matteo, so maybe that is why I can’t move.
I flinch when he’s about to make contact. Then, suddenly, he’s lurching backwards. Like some invisible force has taken hold of him and is pulling him away.
I exhale.
Then I focus.
That force I mentioned. It is not invisible. I squint, peering past the stumbling man’s image.
That’s when I see him .
Luc Batiste.
Only, he doesn’t look like the Luc I know.
His face is twisted in a feral sneer. His posture is stiff. Like his body is wound tight.
Coiled.
Like he’s about to explode.
Then, I watch in total and complete shock as he does just that.
“Don’t. Fucking. Touch. Her.”
Each word is punctuated with a punch to the face.
Spoken between gritted teeth.
Luc growls, as he drags the man away from me.
“Get the fuck off me, man,” the stranger says, trying to break free as blood flows from his nose.
But he can’t.
Luc has him by the neck, like the stranger is some errant child.
His steel eyes flash to mine, then he turns, fast as a snake, and continues pummeling the holy hell out of the drunk man.
My eyes widen. I watch the unmitigated violence I had no idea Luc was capable of take over.
His features shift. His steel eyes glitter. He changes from the quiet, careful man I thought I knew to something else. To a predator.
A viper.
True, I’ve only spoken to Luc a handful of times since I came to the Vipers’ Den, looking for work, and more.
I returned to New Jersey after six years, thinking if I could get someone powerful to take me under his protection, I would be safe.
I thought the king was that man.
But Nico isn't mine.
And I have yet to feel anything other than anxiety about being back in my home state.
Only, right now, as I stand there watching Luc beat the crap out of that drunk stranger, I think maybe I wasn’t looking at the right man to begin with.
I was wrong about Nico. And it looks like I am wrong about Luc.
From what I’ve heard, Luc is this intellectual who abhors physical conflict.
He is a lawyer. A considerate man. Not a hothead, right?
He doesn’t get his hands dirty. At least, that is what I thought.
Over the past few months, I thought I learned all about the hierarchy of the Vipers.
Angel is the muscle.
Nico is the king.
Luc is the brain.
But I was mistaken.
Luc is more than that.
Quiet.
Smart.
Classy.
Hot as fuck.
And violent. Very, very violent.
Also, way out of my league.
That last part is not debatable. He is out of my league.
I like smart guys. But I always knew I would need someone strong if Matteo was going to be a problem. His visits to my mother tell me he will be.
But maybe I’ve been going about it wrong. Maybe I don’t need strong. Maybe I need smart.
Or maybe I need both. Someone smart and strong.
Like Luc.
But there are no other guys like Luc.
I watch, stunned, as he unleashes hell on the squat, drunk man.
Until Angel finally pulls him off.
His chest is heaving and his eyes glitter like the silver piercings in his ear and eyebrow.
The music is still blaring and there are a small team of bouncers surrounding the area, pushing nosy customers back.
Really, it is chaos.
But I don’t care.
I don’t pay attention to any of it.
I am too busy watching Luc.
The mask he usually wears in public is gone.
And I see the real Luc.
No, I don’t know everything about him. But maybe it’s time for me to learn more.
I lick my lips as he steps back once the man stops moving.
His face is still warped in an angry snarl, but I’m not scared of him.
I feel breathless and warm all over. And I’m eager for what he’s about to say.
Luc turns to look at the man bleeding all over the floor and he spits.
Then he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.
And he looks at me.
“My office. Now.”