Chapter 17
Gia
Castor stares me in the eyes as I sit in the fetal position at the bottom of a metal stairwell. His hand is extended for me to grab – like a king inviting me to his dark chambers – and I’m just not sure I can do it. He’s everything I want… and everything I swore against.
“He would never have assaulted you if not for me,” Castor says. “I failed you. And I’m sorry.”
My palms are clammy. The Russian’s mortal screams plague my mind. It’s like they’re on repeat. I’m not meant for the mafia life. These guys are crazy… a dark storm of danger that will swallow me whole.
I shift farther away from him.
He’s the same as a cat bringing a dead rat to my feet, thinking he did good. I don’t want it.
The visual of liquefied gold pouring over a convulsing body makes me shiver where I sit. In this moment, I don’t care how big and enticing he is. He’s a stone cold murderer. A powerful one, with gold stores, gold weapons, gold everything. How did he become this?
I remember the hot teenager with a devilish smile and innocent eyes, making every girl he brought over swoon for him – including me watching from my window.
Now he’s something different.
Something dangerous.
I can’t take his hand. Not when there’s fresh blood on it.
Eventually he retracts his offer and stands over me – a set of six blocky abs framed by an awning of indents. His pecs are perfect. Not too massive, just enough to be swaddled in. But he’s poison.
“Gia, listen to me. What I said on the phone the other day, I meant it. All I want is you by my side. We’ll be unstoppable. I’ll take care of you.”
I shake my head. “This isn’t how I imagined to be taken care of, Castor.” I nod to the room beyond the door.
“I’ve never let a woman into my life before. All they see is the money and the power I wield, but never what it takes to retain it. My crew goes under fire sometimes, Gia. We defend what’s ours, because we earned it. This is what it takes. Come defend it with me, like Donny and Ellie do.”
I shake my head again.
No way. I’m not a mafia princess. Besides, didn’t she run from them too? Yeah, I’m pretty sure their story starts with Ellie being kidnapped by him, for God’s sake. Definitely not me.
He lost me there. I’m not comforted by his poisonous declarations. He’s so far lost in his golden darkness he can’t even see how demented his actions are.
“I—I’ve got to go, Castor.”
A part of me is scared he’ll exercise force to keep me put, but he doesn’t. He only looks on with those adoring eyes, as if he didn’t just murder someone like Khal Drogo did.
I stand tentatively, scared of what’s to come. After a long exhale, I head slowly up the stairs. It’s poetic in a way. I’m heading toward the light, while he remains in the dungeon. This is right—
“Gia,” he interrupts my thought. “I just want you to know, I’m falling for you.”
I stop in my tracks, my whole body frowning in exhaustion. Not because I don’t feel it too. No. Quite the opposite. But I can’t.
Not like this.
I open the door, inhaling the scent of the shop and sighing with relief upon seeing the sun shining through windows. Anything to wash off the dreariness of what I just witnessed.
One look down shows I’m still shaking.
Tonight I have a mind to go apologize to my boss for the abrupt absence, beg for a dead shift just to get back into the swing of things, like before my life got out of hand.
I wave farewell to the elderly man minding the shop, and find myself sighing with relief once the crisp spring air slaps me in the face. Being on the run from the man who was just drowned in gold really did a number on me. Now it’s like a weight is lifted.
It’s bittersweet. On the one hand, I owe Castor for that, don’t I? On the other, though… he’s a cold-blooded murderer, and that man was only after me in the first place because of him.
At least I’m free from fear now. All I have to worry about is my stupid brother watching from somewhere out of sight. Where the fuck was he when I needed him?
Don’t be a hypocrite, Gia. You wanted him gone. He’s gone. You wanted Castor gone, he’s gone. Leave it alone and go live in peace.
When I get in the car, I let my forehead fall against the steering wheel. Why couldn’t Castor just leave me out of the darkness? I think of the banter we shared when things were lighter. The good with him is so good. But the bad… is too much.
Shit!
I grit my teeth and turn on the car.
When I get home, I greet Linda meandering upstairs – who’s still in her PJs at 4:30 p.m. – and shut my eyes when I’m closed into my private little space. A twinge turns my stomach. What if there are other Russians after me? Spying on me in my little apartment?
Castor is my wall of protection now that he knows, even if I can’t be with him.
Relax, I tell myself as I head to my room and pull out the Bangos uniform for tonight. Stacey is a lifesaver. I don’t know what I would’ve done with myself if she wasn’t there to calm me down every step of the way.
Castor’s face pops up in my mind’s eye again. He was disappointed with himself when he saw me shaking. That’s what his softened expression meant. Now that I’m thinking clearly, I’m almost sure of it. He really thought his macho sadistic punishment was a gift.
I’m not a mafia killer, you idiot.
I punch my bed, trying to get the visual of him pouring scorching liquefied metal onto a man’s face out of my head. Isn’t it rude to drag a civilian into this? Isn’t that what you punished the Russian for, Castor?
My emotions run haywire, because just this morning I was expecting a date as my present. Some small token celebration that I don’t have to be sniped by a Russian hitman.
Now I’m back to square one, alone, traumatized, with nothing to look forward to.
At least I’m free, I guess.
A few hours go by where I decompress by revisiting a painting I left unfinished. For some fairly obvious reason, my inspiration is off. Sunshine and rainbows aren’t quite cutting it today. I find myself painting a loose-lined portrait of a man in a leather jacket – face blurry – streaks of red over his chest. It’s like I’m pushing the dark images out of my mind and into the world in hopes for some relief.
It’s therapeutic, I guess. But I wind up crumpling the paper and tossing it behind the couch.
New Girl, Friends, How I Met Your Mother, all my comfort TV just makes the pit in my stomach grow that much more.
Time to leave the house, I decide. I’m already in my uniform, so I just grab the keys and go. I notice hesitation in my step once I get outside. My body is reacting from the last time I took this path – I could’ve been raped.
Just keep moving.
I think of lighter things as I get into my car unscathed. My thoughts go to the ‘G’ pin Castor bought me, now pinned to the inside of my skirt. I don’t want to remove it, because, well, I still love the present. Looking at it whenever I feel down makes me squirm like a schoolgirl. Pulling back the elastic of my skirt to trace my thumb against the rose, my heart now aches. What started as a mere lust-filled waking dream, has blossomed into something so much more.
The screams of that man echo in my mind, and I push it all away – I can’t right now.
Tonight will be fine. I’ll throw some shade at men trying to get a look up my skirt and earn some tips even though my rent is paid for because of the rest of that sleeve of gold I still have. I just have to get it exchanged…
I’m walking toward the corner of Willets, where Bingo Bango’s huge awning stretches down the block. People are laughing and drinking inside – I can tell through the darkened huge windows. It’ll be a good night—
“Ah!”
A strong hand wraps around my arm, and I immediately start flailing.
“Cut it out!” My brother’s dilated eyes make him look inhuman. His finger is in my face as he pushes me flat against the wall, across the street from Bangos. “Where the fuck have you been, huh? You scared the hell out of me.”
I swing out of his grasp and slap him hard across the face. “No!” I point back inches from his nose like our mother used to. “You do not have permission to walk back into my life, Marco. Fuck off. I don’t want to see you, I don’t want to hear from you, I don’t want to know you.”
I’m unhinged, but seriously, my body can’t take anymore jump scares.
He backs off a bit and sniffs, wiping his nose like he just took a line. “Where you been, Gia?” he says evenly, which makes him all the more frightening.
I don’t back down. “None of your business.”
“You don’t tell work? You just flee? Not like you. Speak up,” he demands.
“What, you run your little events in the restaurant I work at, and you think you can snoop around and ask my boss questions?” I get in his face. “I don’t care if you mean well, Marco. This is not how life is going to continue. If I see you again, I’m moving out of state. Found a nice little place on my trip.” I smile facetiously at him. “Then you can tell Mom why I’m running from where we grew up.”
He puckers his lips and pulls out a cigarette. “I don’t like what’s going on.” He inhales sharply. So much nervous energy.
“What’s going on, Marco? What could possibly be so horrible that makes you snatch me on my way to work?”
“Can’t explain it. Everyone is acting off.”
“Yeah, because you’re snorting double the amount you normally do. Your nose is bright red, dude. What the hell are you doing?” I reach for his chin to better inspect him, but he slaps me away.
“Nah. You, even Ace is standoffish. Castor seems off his game. Ratchet doesn’t have time to party. Mom’s still dating that oaf. The world’s spinning backwards.”
“Don’t drag me into your insanity. Cut me off the list and go do whatever it is you like to do!” I yell.
“I’m your brother.”
“Don’t care. I’ll talk to you when you’re clean. So I guess that’ll be… never. Goodbye, Marco!”
I stomp away from him, wondering what’s going through his head. It’s true. Of course Castor involved some of his crew in stopping the Russians because of me. It scares the shit out of me that my brother can sense all the little shifts.
Whatever, I’m done with that now.
Normal night at work. That’s all.