Chapter 24
Gia
Seeing my brother’s house makes me all sorts of confused. The columns are so gigantic they look like they could be part of a city library. When did he amass all this wealth? And in five years’ time? I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t more concerned than before. Imagining all the broken bones, the gunshots to the head. There’s no way he and Castor got to the top without some serious body bags.
I squeeze Castor’s hand with unease as he leads me up grand marble steps. They look new, mostly, except for the odd scuff marks all over them, like someone fumbled up and down the stairs.
Glass is broken on one of the lantern lights overhead, and the silver doorknob has so many key marks they look like bird scratches. I can’t stop myself from imagining a rabid animal had come to attack his front porch. Though I know the truth. The marks of madness doesn’t take away from the richness, but it doesn’t conceal how far my brother’s fallen into his own darkness.
“Castor, I didn’t realize—”
“Hm?” He turns, his face really starting to swell since our sexcapades in his car.
“The amount of money your crew has…”
“Marco is my brother, even if he’s fallen far from grace.” Castor punches the door, his rings clanging to make sure Marco heard, wherever he is. “We’ve also saved each other’s lives on more than one occasion. I wouldn’t be surprised if one of those memories yanked his gun to the sky when he wanted to pump me full of lead. Stay behind me.” He tugs my hand.
We hear a door open on the upstairs balcony, causing Castor to switch positions so I’m shielded by his gigantic back.
“What?” Marco yells, unhinged. “Isn’t it past your bedtime, Ratchet? Who’s there?”
“It’s us, Marco,” Castor’s voice tears through the humid air.
“Oh, the spineless rat who calls himself my brother.” He cackles. “Haven’t had enough yet?”
“Cut it out. Let us in. Time to talk.”
“Talk? I’m reloading my pistol as we speak. I might not miss this time. Stay still, Cast. My door needs a new coat of paint. Red is lucky, right? That’s how the Asians do it.” He taps his gun against the balcony guardrail, then cackles some more.
“Castor,” I whisper.
“It’ll be fine,” he snarls, still eyeing Marco.
Marco scoffs and just stands there, clicking away on his phone. I’m shaking all over again. I plant a gentle kiss on Castor’s shoulder, just in case we’re making a fatal mistake.
Crchrk.
His front door unlocks automatically, and Castor wastes no time dragging me inside. The first thing I see is a pile of clothes rolled up into a ball on the white marble floor. Ugh, and the smell… Jesus. It’s like he spilled a whole bottle of bourbon on his welcome mat and left it to marinate. The sectional couch in the living area is out of place, scrunching up a rich-looking rug. The TV has a crack in it, of which I’m not the least bit surprised to see, and the fireplace has soot all over the front. It’s the goddamn tail-end of spring. Why the hell is he lighting fires?
My brother is deranged.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Marco leisurely paces to the top of a curved staircase, his loafers clacking. A bloodied towel drapes over his neck, and in the dim lighting I can see his nose broken beneath black and blue eyes. He’s way more screwed up than Castor. But he’s still the one holding a gun that could end it all.
“Breaking and entering. This will be the easiest cover up of my career, Cast.”
“You’ll have to kill us both then,” I blurt.
He scowls. “How romantic. Romeo and Juliet over here. Give them a round of applause, ladies and gentlemen.” He taps his gun against the cast iron banister. “So fucking dramatic.”
“Says you!” I point at his face.
“Shh, Gia. Not while he’s waving his gun around,” Castor says. “C’mon, Marco. We have busy days ahead of us dealing with the Russians. Let’s put this behind us.”
He struts down the stairs, taking his time like he’s playing with his food. I know the look, the movements. These are the moments before he snaps.
“I love how you’re trying to protect my sister, from me. Like I’m not her blood.” Marco grins.
“Would you rather me put her in front to shield me from your bullets? Seriously, Marco, what the fuck are you saying? Listen to yourself.”
He’s high out of his mind. In fact, I think he did more drugs since the incident. I scrunch Castor’s arm in fear.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” He lifts the gun straight at Castor, making silent tears well up again.
A part of me wishes Castor would’ve just ambushed him unsuspecting and chained him up in his gold store basement. Why is he giving this asshole so many passes?
“Hm. Think I can’t handle my coke? After the job I just pulled sniffing out Patrovski’s little goons? I was good enough then, wasn’t I? Your precious little hound.”
“It’s not like that,” Castor growls at him.
“Oh no? Heh.” He makes it to the foot of the stairs and wipes his bloodied nose with the pistol. “Then why run behind my back?”
“Waiting for the right time.”
“A little too long, I think.” He takes out a baggie of coke and smacks it against his leg, then notices both of us tense at the sight. “What? Just a little popcorn for the show.”
“We’re past that. We’ve already beat each other to a fucking pulp.”
“Nah. I don’t think so. I haven’t fucked your mother yet to make it even. I think she’ll like it.”
I feel Castor tense in my grip. Don’t give in, I pray.
“What? That’s not fair?” Marco tilts his head as he opens the baggie. “Tell me it’s not fair, Castor. I dare you.” He dips his pinky to taste the coke, then flinches with pleasure.
“I meant what I said before.”
“Aww.” He frowns, slinking closer to us. He’s truly hideous right now, but he wears wounds so well I think it makes him more frightening. Why did we come here…
Because it’s either we square this away, or Castor kills him. That’s why.
Would I be able to forgive him if he did that? If he killed my big brother…
I… don’t know.
I stare up at the big hunk of man protecting me. Not just physically, but emotionally too. He’s thinking long-term even though he’s negotiating with a pistol-wielding hyena.
God… he’s going to get himself killed for me.
“What makes you think I give a shit how you feel, Cast? You’re intruding. This is Castellano business. Me and her.” He points the gun to himself then to me.
I squeeze tight to make sure Castor understands I want nothing to do with him.
“Put down the gun, Marco.”
He lets it swing upside down, dangling by his finger caught in the trigger-guard. “Give me my sister.”
“No,” I yelp.
“Do I frighten you that much, Gia? That’s good. Because you don’t know what’s right for you. Never have. Since your first boyfriend who played you like a little whore, to… this.” He presents Castor. “I’m your dark angel watching over you, always. I’ll protect you from everything that threatens, especially someone of my own kind. Now step the fuck aside, Castor, or you’ll never have your peace.”
My body goes stiff. Marco is eerily lucid, and his demand isn’t followed by a laugh or a taunt. He flings his gun to the back of the room and stalks forward, eyeing Castor.
“Let go of my baby sister, Cast.” Marco’s face is straight.
Castor holds strong, shaking his head. “It’s not my decision to make.”
The moment is so tense a bead of sweat drips down my neck, tickling me in the worst way.
“You know, if we go at this again, one of us is going to die.” Marco holds back his smile.
“Stop.” I shake out of Castor’s hand and step into the open. “Fucking stop it, Marco. Here I am. What do you want?”
His eye twitches, and Castor is quiet, ready to pounce if need be.
“A word. That’s all.” Marco extends his hand, eyes only on Castor.
“If you promise no more fighting, or threats. We came here for peace,” I demand.
“Done.”
I narrow my eyes tentatively, like a beaten puppy. But this isn’t going to end unless I give an inch. “Fine.” I grab his hand.
“Good. Now out you go.” He shoos Castor back outside.
I’m equally as angry as I am shivering. Being alone, in this unkempt mansion, with the most unhinged person in my life… I’m biting my lip to pieces.
Castor sends me a comforting look before turning his back to us.
“C’mon, Gia. Let’s have a chat.” Marco struts over to his sectional and falls back into it, arms wide over the top.
I follow him tentatively, frightened that he’ll blow his lid and choke me out in some coke-filled rage. He looks like Rocky at the end of, well, every freakin’ movie, only with white powder stuck to his nostrils. I take my seat across from him.
“So I have to save you from yourself, huh? You had to go and pick the forbidden fruit. Why?”
I twist my lips, feeling like I’m being reprimanded by my father. “None of your business.”
“Really, it’s like that?”
“Always has been, you fool.”
He nods slowly, finding my anger amusing. “Castor is no good for you, Gia. We fuck prostitutes, gamble, do shady business. Lord knows what kind of diseases he’s rolling with, or what kind of ladies he’s got in his car behind your back. You’re better than that.”
I recoil, folding my arms and rubbing away the nerves. It’s like he brought faraway fears right up to the forefront.
“You only see one side. One stupid fucking side in that blissful little pea brain of yours.”
“I’ve always been smarter than you, so don’t kid yourself.”
He tilts his head. “In the big books, sure. But really? Where’d all that get you?” He gestures around his big house.
“I like my little life, prick. I was doing just fine until you showed up.”
He points a finger to his head. “I got the balls and the sense to stay alive in the underworld. And all I want? Keep you and Mom provided for.”
“I told you, I’m doing just fine on my own.”
“Oh? How long you been with him?” He nods to where Castor waits outside. “Don’t fucking lie to me, just say it.”
“A few months,” I reveal.
“And at no point, not once, did you feel uneasy?” He stares at me, judging me hard. “I sniff bullshit out for a living, Gia. You don’t even have to say a word.”
I think back to the Russian who assaulted me, to Castor murdering him in cold blood. In all my brother’s faults, he has a point. But it’s too late, I love Castor, and he’s proven himself to me. Fuck Marco.
He leans forward in his seat. “That man… is my brother. He truly fucking is. Saved my life big with the Colombians.” He shows me his neck, reminding me of a terrible time. “But he’s still not good enough for you. Hate me all you want, but at least hear me out.”
“You almost goddamn killed us in the car!” I get even angrier.
He scoffs at that. “Was just trying to scare you. Looks like it worked, too.”
“I don’t buy it for a second. I know that look. You were seeing red because you’re drugged out of your mind. Seriously… what happened to you? There was a time when you were the sane one, the one who really looked out for me and Mom—”
He throws his head back in laughter. “I’m a steel fucking trap, Gia. I still do all that, coke just makes me sharper.”
I shake my head. He’s a lost cause. I made the right decision in disowning him five years ago, and wish he was just locked up in jail or something at this point. Three meals, safety, and out of my life.
“But this isn’t about me.” He taps the coffee table with his knuckle. “Look here. You and him have to end. And that’s final. Either that or I’ll end it. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow. But a bullet will come.”
My chest weakens in horror. I thought we were passed that. Castor was right – it’s like he has a short-term memory disorder. I’m at a loss for words as I scan my brother’s broken face.
“He treats me right,” I say.
“That’s what we do, Gia. We make it look good.”
My face scrunches as I eye his house. “You don’t make anything look good.”
We both chuckle at that, and for an instant, I see the big brother who used to mess with me when I was in school. Throwing wet tissues in my hair, then cursing when Mom made him wash it out. There was sibling love back then. My God has it warped into something sick.
All those dark portraits I’ve been scribbling out… I fear they’re all of him.