Chapter 5
THE HANGED MAN
T he following spring was Gemma’s birthday. As the events of the day played out, however, I was the one on the receiving end of a significant surprise.
“You ready to go?” I asked, adjusting my silk tie before stepping out of the bathroom. I had let her go all day, thinking I’d forgotten. All week in actuality.
“Sorry, I got lost in this chapter.” She sighed, tossing her textbook aside. When she looked up, Gemma jack-knifed on the bed. “What are you wearing?” She gawked. “You look…”
“Like a guy who didn’t forget your birthday? Maybe a guy who’s made reservations tonight at that fucking place you’ve been rattling on about, oh… for the last several weeks… incessantly?”
A smile curved her mouth. “ Incessantly?” She stood up and walked to me. After tucking her fingers into the lapels of my jacket, she ran them down the fabric. “This looks expensive , Damien.”
“Italian. Tailored . I assure you, darling, it was .”
“Well, you look amazing,” she said, appraising me as if considering peeling it off. “ You always look like a criminal . Whether you’re in a leather jacket and biker boots, or an expensive, tailored, three-piece Armani.” She reached up to gently stroke my face.
I allowed it.
“Your hair even looks black, slicked back like this. You look sharp, sir. Sharp as this jawline, enough to cut a man.”
“You know what they say… Get a man who can do both.” I cocked my chin in the direction of the closet behind her. “There’s a dress I thought you might like to wear tonight. It should do nicely for the orchestra as well.”
“Orchestra?” With a quirked brow, her eyes shifted to settle on the dusty violin case in the corner of the room.
“Indeed, my dear. I’ve procured tickets to a symphony concert before our dinner reservations.”
She glanced up at me with less enthusiasm than I’d hoped to see. “Let me guess… The Four Seasons? Was this for me, or you?”
“Don’t be silly! For you! The gift of inspiration!
It’s a shame you haven’t played a single note since your last recital.
And when was that? A year ago? I’ve always been enamored with your musical talents.
Now, why don’t you go slip that dress on, so I can treat my little Gun Moll to a night on the town?
A bit of dining and dancing after the performance. ”
Her eyes suddenly dropped to the floor, fingers raking through the top of her long, chestnut hair. A guilty expression eclipsed her face.
“I wish you would have said something sooner…” She sighed, moving away from me to sit on the foot of the bed.
“My parents… I’m supposed to meet them tonight for dinner.
They got a birthday cake and everything.
” She peered back up at me, brows censurably knitted together. “I honestly thought you’d forgotten.”
“I see.”
“I’m sorry…”
“At their home? Or…”
“At home.”
I simply nodded. I wasn’t welcome there. Her parents had always despised me, believed I was beneath them, unworthy of Gemma, a promising young woman.
“Damien, I’m sorry.”
I waved her off. “No matter. Another time.” I unbuttoned the jacket to reach inside for my smokes and prized Zippo.
Gemma let out another remorseful sigh. “Damien…”
“My fault. I let this little game of forget me not go on a bit longer than perhaps I should have,” I said, lighting up.
I took a drag and blew it out impatiently.
“What’s that saying? We plan, God laughs ?
” Sadistic motherfucker. He hates me as much as I hate him.
“You shouldn’t let the dress go to waste.
Wear it to your family’s little gathering in your honor. I insist.”
“My father just paid for my tuition this semester… I can’t blow them off.”
That one had caught me off guard. “Since when? And why? I’ve been covering the cost of furthering your education.
” Financial domination was one of the ways he kept his children in line.
Having basically cut Gemma off when he learned of our relationship, refusing to sponsor his own daughter, had been his way of making his displeasure known.
Her contrite expression further creased her brow. “I know… Somehow, he was under the impression I was getting by on my own. When he found out you were footing the bill…he…well, he didn’t like it.”
“ Found out ... I wasn’t aware this was a dirty little secret.”
Her gaze hit the floor again.
“Chad?”
She nodded.
“ My cash is just as green.”
“ We know that…but…”
“ I get it .” I stripped off the jacket, flung it over a chair in the kitchen, and glanced around our perhaps too humble abode.
Yanking at the tie that felt as if it had begun to constrict my throat, I attempted to retain a mask of indifference.
One day, I would be wealthier than all of them, feared, and respected.
The moment of Dominick’s release, we’d make our own moves.
I knew he had been cultivating connections of his own in prison.
My blood still boiled…
Hypocrites! The lot of them! They looked down their noses at me, yet behind closed doors, they snorted the junk I sold them right up those fucking noses!
Perhaps not her father, specifically , but her brother, her friends …
And I was more than certain her mother was a whore for Xanax.
That whole upper-class clique, they were all addicted to something.
Prescription opioids, Adderall, Botox … So what if they acquired their drugs of choice through licensed physicians?
That didn’t make them better than anyone else.
At least I was honest about what I was. I didn’t hide behind designer clothes and luxury vehicles.
It irked me, the way Gemma’s parents strived to ascend to the societal heights Chad’s family had attained.
It was something I had liked about her, how she never gave a shit about any of it.
At least, that had always been the case before.
“Get dressed. I’ll drop you off at the house,” I muttered, cigarette bobbing between my lips as I spoke. “I’ll come collect you at the commencement of this little celebration.” I finished stripping off the suit in exchange for my usual attire—worn-in jeans, a leather jacket, and biker boots.
“ Actually …they’re sending a car.”
“Only the best for our girl , eh?” I snatched up a pair of faded black jeans and pulled them on.
“Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit, Damien.”
“But the highest form of intelligence .” I tried not to glare at her while I fastened my leather belt. “ Oscar Wilde . If you’re going to admonish me with a quote, let it be the entire quote , Gemma. Omission reflects poorly on your education.”
She rolled her eyes at me. “It’s a shame you refuse to enroll. There are scholarships you could apply for, and you have the drive and the intelligence to be anything you want to be, Damien… I…I wish you’d stop stifling your potential because of your brother.”
“ Hard. Limit .” She knew this topic wasn’t up for discussion, let alone debate.
With a huff, Gemma shoved herself up from the bed and stormed to the closet.
Once she opened the door, a half-smile pulled at her lips while taking in the elegant details of the dress.
“This is lovely, Damien…” She sighed, fingering the lace and intricate beadwork embellishments on the black, gothic garment.
“Wear it tonight… I don’t mind,” I said, pulling a black t-shirt on. “It’s yours to do with as you please.”
“It’s a little fancy for dinner at home with my family.
” Gemma closed the closet door and made her way over to the dresser beneath the only two windows we had in the place.
I watched her select a pair of blue jeans and a light pink blouse.
Over the last few months, there had been a shift in her attire.
For the longest time, her wardrobe consisted predominantly of dark ensembles of leather, lace, and velvet.
That gothic, witchy vibe of hers I’d always found so alluring had shifted to something more…
quasi-goth …if not at times outright mundane .
“When should I expect you back? Perhaps there will be time to salvage a portion of the night I had planned.”
Gemma didn’t look at me while she dressed. “I’m not sure. I’ll text you,” were her words to me.
S everal hours passed, and the nagging feeling in the pit of my stomach only grew in heaviness and intensity. I waited for her text…one that never came.
I didn’t have her parents’ numbers, and her brother wasn’t responding to my calls. Something was off…
“Gemma left two hours ago,” her father gruffly informed me when I found myself at the front door of their Spanish-Mission-style home. Instinctively, I knew. His broadening, self-satisfied grin damn near reached the salt and pepper streaks at his temples, only solidifying my suspicions.
I said nothing and returned to my Indian parked in the driveway, bringing up Chad’s sister’s number on my phone.
Brittany … She was a little X fiend. I’d been her supplier since high school.
“Hello, Molly .” I sneered when she answered.
“I hate it when you call me that, Damien .”
“Where’s your brother?”
“How should I know? I’m not his keeper. Since when do you care?”
“ Since now . Find out for me, and I’ll return the favor.”
“ Free Eve?”
“Indeed.”
“Alright. I’ll call you back.”
“ Good girl.” I mounted my bike and waited for the intel, glaring at the home where Gemma should have been.
“ G et the fuck out,” I snapped the moment Gemma appeared in the doorway of our apartment.
“What the fuck, Damien?” she had the gall to demand, nearly tripping over her violin case and the other scattered items I’d tossed in the hall.
“Did you crack your dome against his headboard? I said get the fuck out of here.”