Chapter 5
Gia
Marco’s driver dropped me off at my apartment – no directions necessary. Here I thought I had some semblance of privacy in my life away from the family, but nope. No sense in hiding it anymore. He knows where I live, where I work, my shifts.
He’s such an asshole, my brother.
It wasn’t always like this… the despicable loathing. I remember like it was yesterday – he bought me my own personal pizza pies whenever he ordered for his friends. Even though I was too young to hang with them, he didn’t want me to feel completely left out. He was calmer too, before all the coke. Patient enough to look at my doodles if I asked him. Not so heartbreakingly critical like he is now. But damn was that long ago. Now he’s just a projection of the devil inside him.
Deep down, I’m happy to see he’s alright. Only two new scars, which is like a record for him.
Despite all that though, the nervous jitters running through me haven’t let up. Because my brother butting his head in where it doesn’t belong isn’t the real reason I’m hopped up tonight. Castor, my God.
My cheeks flush and I can’t get into my apartment fast enough, resting my back flat on the door like I’m trying to keep an intruder out. Just when I think I’m being adventurous by taking a mobster shift, I wind up getting fingered under the table, paid in gold, and my mortifying panties shown on full display. Of course there’s goddamn floodlights right where I’m standing when Lincolnzano decides to overstep.
Dude almost lost his fingers because of it.
I shut my eyes, thinking about how hot Castor was coming to my rescue. He’s an enforcer wrapped in gold, and I don’t stop myself from toying with idea of him being my enforcer.
All the handsy mobsters in the world couldn’t wipe the smile off my face right now. I’m lingering in it as my backside slides all the way down to the floor. Our banter was electric, our chemistry on fire. I need to see him again.
God, what would Stacey think if I told her what happened? No, I can’t tell anyone what really happened. Seeing my brother’s unhinged self brings back horrible memories. The replay of him beating a man half to death in cold blood, just for giving him attitude when he got his order wrong, rings in my head like a bell.
I bite my top lip. One slip up, and that could be Castor, or just as bad, Castor might kill him. Honestly, I don’t know who’d win in a fight. Castor’s bigger, but Marco is… crazier. I guess the family code is good for something. Can’t kill a capo unless you have approval.
What am I saying? They’ve been best friends since high school – the year my brother lasted in high school at any rate. I shouldn’t get involved in any of this.
I scoff as I take off my borrowed heels. My feet are completely numb and cut up from the sharp leather. The relief of getting them off is only dimmed by how sore I know my heel’s going to be tomorrow. I shrug off my gold-chained bag and push it toward the shoe-rack on my right.
The sun will be up in an hour, and I have no idea what to do with myself. My sleep schedule is ruined – five nights straight of being in bed by one a.m.
After a few minutes of lying there like a lethargic sloth, I get up and make way into the living area. Old-style wooden floors are scuffed from my flats, and the easel standing next to my couch looks inviting. Maybe I should paint.
Lifting the giant page and folding it neatly behind my last painting is already too much effort. I’m exhausted for real. Eyes heavy, arms shaky from holding drink-filled server plates all night. The couch looks inviting all of a sudden.
Pop. Pop. Pop.
I unsnap my corset-style bra and sprawl myself over the couch, able to breathe fully for the first time in twelve hours. Hm. Don’t have to be up ’til four tomorrow. One heavy blink goads me to sleep. I can afford a little nap…
xxx
Zttttt! Zttttt!
My doorbell rings incessantly, jolting me awake. I tap around the couch, not remembering where I am – heart pounding in my chest.
“Ugh! What the f—” I get to my feet and eye the windows, noting the sun filtering in around my pulled curtains, turning the once dark room murky. “What time is it?” I hold my head, then jerk away from the blinding brightness of my phone. “Noon? Jesus…”
Zttttt!
“I’m coming, I’m coming.” I open my apartment door and head into the stairwell, waving down the old woman who lives upstairs in our two-family house. “It’s okay, Linda.”
“What kind of animal rings the bell like that?” She takes a step down in satin-style PJs. I guess she works the night shift too, hah.
“I’ll find out. Get the gun ready in case they finally caught me,” I joke, and she waves her hand at me with a smirk.
“Careful, hun. Ask who it is first.” Linda holds the banister tight.
I look through the keyhole and scoff. “It’s for me, Linda. Sorry about all the noise. My stupid brother.”
“Oh, hunnie. I didn’t know you had one. Please, tell him to be a little less frantic next time. Don’t need to give this old lady a heart attack.”
“Sorry.” I frown as I open the door.
Marco has dark circles under his eyes, and his nose is red around the rims. He’s still up from last night, and by the looks of it, he’s on a coke bender.
“What?” I snap, only showing my face through the crack in the door.
“Come out here.” He beckons me with two fingers. I hate the way he thinks he can command me.
“I thought I told you I want nothing to do with your life.”
He laughs at that. “That’s out the window since you decided to step foot in our little show last night. Now come out here. Give your brother a kiss. That is, unless you want me to start ringing the bell again.”
I roll my eyes as I open the door. The streets of Howard Beach, Queens are busy on a Sunday. Everyone is probably gearing up for an early dinner already – Italian style. Then there’s me, just waking up like some kind of nocturnal creature. Shielding my eyes from the light does little-to-nothing for my pounding headache. I don’t remember drinking that much.
My bare feet against the cold brick stoop wakes me right up.
“Look.” Marco licks his finger and starts counting hundred-dollar-bills. “If you needed extra cash, you should’ve come straight to me. You know I’ll always take care of you.”
“I don’t want your money, Marco.” I push the wad of cash into his chest. “Just had the energy for an extra shift, is all. My boss asked me to take it, so I did. That’s that. Now why are you here? I was pretty clear that I don’t want you around after you splashed blood all over my face because a server pissed you off.”
He cackles, shoving his hands in his pockets. “You broke the ice yesterday. Besides, I miss you, Sis. Mom gives me updates, but it’s good to see your face.”
I hate how he twitches as he talks – still high as a goddamn kite at noon the next day.
“You haven’t changed.” I wipe some white residue from his nose.
He swats my hand away a second too late. “I’m a busy guy. Need to stay alert. Anyway… I don’t want to see you with those pricks unless I’m there to supervise, alright?”
I go to speak, but he talks over me.
“—I saw you getting friendly with the other girls. They like you. Or maybe they’re just being nice ’cause you’re my kid sister.”
“They didn’t even know you were my brother until you snatched my arm.” I shove my face closer to his, messing with his drugged-up reality.
“Not the point. You hear me, or what? Don’t need those schmucks trying anything on you, because then I’d have to kill them, and I need my men.”
“Castor was keeping an eye on me,” I test the waters.
“Lucky for us, eh? He’s the only reason why I didn’t kill anyone the second I saw you there.”
I internally sigh with relief. He still trusts him, which means he has no idea that he fingered me in front of his entire crew… under the table… in a near pitch-black area of the bar. It feels like I got away with murder.
“We clear, missy?” He licks his teeth.
“Yeah, whatever. You don’t look well, Marco. Go to bed.”
A delivery truck pulls up to my house, and I furrow my brow when the driver says my name. I don’t remember ordering anything.
Marco’s tapping his foot, snorting air way too aggressively while eyeing the poor guy. It’s like the driver interrupted mass at church, and Marco was the priest.
Don’t fucking snap at him. Don’t fucking snap at him.
I can already tell my brother’s a hair-trigger away from flipping, true to his name.
“Here you go, Ms. Castellano.” The delivery guy hands the sticker-less package over to me, and I’m even more confused.
“Thank you,” I say, staring at Marco, then to the package the size of a tissue box.
“Well, aren’t you going to open it?” Marco eggs, eyeing the guy until he’s sufficiently far enough away, and that restless tension of violence eases back a bit.
“What, did you send me something as some kind of sick reunion present?”
“I’m not that clever.” He pulls out a cigarette.
I start to tear it open, and right inside I glimpse a note that reads:
Forgot to give you your tip.
P.S. I liked your avocado panties. Wish you’d mail me a pair.
My face must be bright red, because my cheeks are swirling with heat.
Oh my God. Fuck. Oh my God.
Marco squints and peeks over, forcing me to whip the box shut.
“Hey! Privacy much?” I scold. “Don’t start with your bullshit, Marco.”
“Is it from that prick with the shaved sides and flop of red hair? He’s no good for you, Gia.”
I gasp, knowing exactly who he’s referencing – my latest Tinder date. Davy. He was pretty boring, but I thought I was at least lively enough for a call back. Guess I wasn’t the problem, after all.
But that’s beside the point. If glares could kill… I’m so angry at Marco I want to strangle him, but little does he know, he just bought me full rights to hide this package and deflect, deflect, deflect.
“You really need to learn to fuck off,” I seethe.
“Mom would be washing your mouth out with soap right now if she heard you.” He takes a long pull of the cigarette, eyes squinted at me.
“What did you say to him, huh? He works at a coffee shop. He’s harmless!”
“Mm.” Marco is unamused. “Didn’t like the way he grabbed your ass in public. Not appropriate. You never know who’s watching.”
At first, I was just playing up how mad I was to throw him off, but now my blood boils for real. He’s never stopped watching me… Always lurking in those damn shadows. “Who do I have to go to, Don Gio? I’ll fucking do it, Marco. I swear!”
He laughs at me, leaning back on the banister. “Go ahead, ask him. I’ll give you his cell number.”
I’m taken aback.
“Tell him how horrible I am for wanting to protect my sister. Go ahead. Do it. You know what? Just because it’s you, I’ll give you my phone to call with. You probably won’t hear anything back, though.” He starts cackling.
Why wouldn’t I—no way. Is he saying the old perv is dead?
“Lightbulb!” he says, mocking me. “Yeah, Gia, he’s been dead. You’re a little late on your intel.”
I’m intrigued now. I had no idea the Valentinos had a new leader. Well, I’ve been away from the family for a while now, and I shut my mom up whenever she tries to give me gossip.
“Want to guess who took over?”
I shrug. “One of his sons?”
“Yeah, the one who killed him.”
My eyes widen.
“The Stallion.” Marco takes another long pull. “The guy’s an arrogant prick, but he runs a right ship. Even got the Rigianos and the Valentinos talking again.”
“You used to run down guys in the Rigiano family for fun—” I put my hand up. “Why am I even entertaining this? I’m going back inside, bye, Marco. Stop following me or I’ll go to the new Don. I mean it.”
He grabs my hand as I go for the door. “Gia,” his tone turns serious.
I peer over my shoulder.
“There’s big things happening for our crew. I don’t want you and Mom living like second-class citizens anymore. Va bene? As the man of this family, I wanted to tell you personally you’ll be taken care of.”
My heart softens a bit. For all my brother’s faults, his heart is in the right place, at least with me and Mom. That doesn’t change where I stand on the matter, though.
“I appreciate the gesture, but no. I’m wiping my hands clean of dirty money. Look. I dip my toes in one innocent event, and my bell starts buzzing like someone died the very next day.”
His lip twitches. “What if I back off a bit? Can I see you around a little more?”
My mind goes immediately to Castor. If I say yes, then our paths could cross again without raising suspicion.
“Maybe.” I smirk, and he smirks back.
“Take care of yourself, Gia. And get some rest… You look awful.”
I gasp, and before I can think of a comeback, he’s cackling and rushing down the stairs.
As soon as I get back into the hallway, I’m hugging Castor’s box and combating all of the butterflies swarming around my belly. This is not okay. We didn’t get caught while he secretly diddled me in the midst of a hundred people, but a damn box almost gets us killed? Really?
I rush into my apartment, shut the door, and double-lock it. This time I head toward the kitchen. It’s small, with beige-colored cabinets and a Formica countertop. I’m staring at the box like I’m about to open a treasure. Well, I am, kind of. There might actually be gold in there.
Before I do, I run to the window and ensure the shades are completely shut, not a sliver of room to peep through, just in case my psycho of a brother is peeking.
Finally, I’m alone, and feel comfortable enough to indulge that note again. As soon as I pick up the laminated card, I blush.
Pervert. I think about actually mailing those panties, but he never gave me an address. Hell, I don’t even have his phone number—
I flip the card to the back and my breath hitches.
Listen, kid. I know we got ahead of ourselves last night, but I just wanted to say… I enjoyed our little date. Make-shift, off-the-cuff, and out of the blue, but sometimes those are the best kind.
Don’t be a stranger.
916-253-6342
It’s a burner, so you won’t have access to me for long…
My mouth hangs open. I thought those budding feelings were one-sided. Reading the note once is impossible. One side has my heart, the other my slit. Never in a million years did I expect anything after our secret meeting.
I can’t stop thinking about his smooth hands and cold rings rubbing my legs. The way he looks at me… like I’m the most beautiful woman in the world… I never felt that with anyone.
When I’m done swooning all over my kitchen, I remember that there’s an actual object in the box. It’s a sleeve of gold coins, stacked. They look identical to the two he paid me for the night, only… it’s ten times more.
“Damn. How much is this stuff actually worth?” I stare at the plastic case that says six ounces, then rush to my phone and Google the worth of it.
My eyes bulge when I see the number pop up on my screen. Ten thousand dollars?
It must be a mistake. For less than four hours’ work? No freakin’ way.
Grenades of joy go off in my heart. This takes care of rent for five months. I can’t believe it. I can’t—
I stare at the card and thumb over the number, my heartrate rising just thinking about calling him.
I shouldn’t though…