Chapter 4
CHAPTER FOUR
E MERALD
I still feel jittery every time I think about when I was being arrested. Or not being arrested—or whatever that thing was with that man, Saint Veneti.
I’m on my way home from work, and all too soon, the train reaches my station, and I begin the short walk home. Reaching our building, I find that I have to climb the stairs because the elevator is broken yet again.
When I reach our apartment and open the door, everything happens in slow motion.
The resounding slap echoing around the dingy apartment.
The sound of my sister crying out.
His arm raised to repeat the motion.
And the snarl he sounds as he gets ready to hit her again.
My bag and keys plunge to the floor.
My heart is in my throat.
“Stop it!” I shriek, running across the room to where Milena’s cupping her cheek.
I shove myself between Enzo Hernandez and my sixteen-year-old sister. I can’t believe my mom got back together with him. He’s a creep and a total loser. And there’s no way in hell I’m letting him hit her again.
“Jaspar and Giulietta?” I ask Milena, my words rushing out in a breathless whoosh. “Are they safe?” Please, please let them be okay…
“In the bedroom,” Milena whispers. Thank God. I couldn’t bear for any more of them to be hurt or have to witness this sort of violence.
Enzo’s hand is still raised in the air, his lips curled in a sneer. He slowly lowers his arm and tugs his creased T-shirt down the front of him as he mutters something under his breath. “I’m going to get some beers,” he grunts to my mom before he storms out, slamming the door behind him.
I stare at it, my chest heaving with every breath I take. “You let him hit Milena?” I cry at my mom, spinning around to face her for a second before turning my attention again to my younger sister. She’s crying, and her cheek is red in the shape of a handprint. “She’s your daughter! What…what’s wrong with you?”
My mom stares at me, but she’s too high to think straight. Her brow puckers. “She said something he didn’t like, I think...”
Disbelief drops my mouth open. “So, you let him hit her?”
There’s another noncommittal gesture from her. She’s a completely different person now. Gone is the warm woman who braided our hair before bed and sang to us when we couldn’t sleep. She wasn’t like this when my dad was alive. In her place is someone I don’t recognize most days. Fading further and further from the woman I still cling to as my mom. There are glimpses of that woman still there, but they’re so infrequent that they feel like mirages.
And it breaks my heart to see what she’s let herself become .
“Milena, go to the bedroom,” I say gently.
“But—”
“I’ll be there in just a second. Please?”
Milena nods through her blur of tears.
My hands fist at my sides. What kind of mom lets her low-life boyfriend do this to her kids? Enzo is a complete creep. He owns a chain of sleazy strip clubs, not that my mom ever sees a cent from him. He’s a leech of the worst kind. Enzo keeps trying to persuade my mom to dance at his clubs. Just being in the same room as him is enough to make my skin crawl.
I wait until I see Milena go into the bedroom and the door clicks closed before letting out a sound from the back of my throat. I pinch the bridge of my nose. I can’t tell if it’s disappointment or irritation that’s coursing through me. A mixture of both, probably.
It’s the same thing over and over again with our mom. This is the reason I work so hard. To try and give my siblings a better life than this. They need to know without a doubt that someone loves them and will always protect them. But that’s not what they’re getting right now—not here.
“We’re leaving. I’m getting an apartment, and I’m taking the kids with me. I’m not going to let your boyfriend hit them?”
She shrugs. “Okay, Em. You do what you think is best.”
The agreement is so fluid that I feel like I get whiplash. She moves to slump down on the couch.
“That’s it?” I stare at her. “Do you…even care?”
She doesn’t answer.
I stare at her, blinking slowly. “So, when I find a place, I’ll move them in with me. That’s the deal.”
“Okay.”
Deep hurt mixes in with all my emotions. “Fine.”
Walking down the short hall, I peer into the room that five-year-old Giulietta and six-year-old Jaspar share. They’re sound asleep, and I send up a silent prayer to whoever’s listening they weren’t awake to witness the whole thing.
My hand clenches the doorknob of the bedroom Milena and I share, and I pause. The thundering beat of my pulse drowns out any other sound. My mouth feels dry. How am I going to afford a new apartment? Picking up more shifts is impossible when I’m already working as many as I can. And asking Ronnie for another gun run is out of the question. I can’t risk ending up in prison because who would take care of the kids then?
I’ll figure it out. I have to figure it out . I want the kids to be safe and happy. My grades really suffered during my last year of high school because of all the stress of my home life, and I promise myself that I’ll not let the same thing happen to the kids.
I push open the door and let it click softly shut behind me. I move on instinct, cradling Milena in my arms as she cries.
When she’s done stumbling through what happened, I give her a reassuring smile, kiss her forehead, and tell her it’s all going to be okay. As I do whatever I can to soothe her, I’m calm and collected on the outside but a storm on the inside. There’s so much to do now. Because if Enzo’s hit her once, he’ll do it again—and maybe not just to Milena next time. I can’t let that happen to Milena or the other kids ever again. It kills me just thinking about what’s just happened.
I stroke her hair and murmur words of comfort, waiting until she’s a little calmer. “Let me see, Milena.” She lifts her face. It’s a nasty mark, but it should fade in a few hours. “I’ll get you some ice in a minute.”
I hear the door creak open and look up to see Giulietta sneaking in. “I heard noises,” she says in a sleepy voice.
She must have heard Milena and me talking. “Come here,” I say softly, and she climbs into my lap, hugging her stuffed bear to her. I bury my face in her hair. She smells like soap and innocence all rolled into one.
“Will you be here to take us to school tomorrow morning?” she asks, her voice hitching with anxiety.
“Of course, munchkin,” I say in a voice which I make as soothing as possible. I absolutely hate that the kids are being affected by all this stuff going on around us. I take the kids to school almost always now, especially after my mom messed up with this a few too many times recently. And if I can’t do it myself, I find a friend to take my place.
“We’re so lucky having two moms,” Giulietta says as she snuggles into me. “We have Mom and then we have you as well.”
“And you’ll always have me,” I reassure her. They count on me, and I’ll never bail on them.
I slip out of the bedroom and gather some ice from the fridge to bring back to the room. Unsurprisingly, my mother is nowhere to be seen now.
Getting our own place is going to cost a lot. Much more money than the cash I have in my bank account right now. Rents in New York are eye-wateringly expensive, plus there’s the deposit, utilities, and everything else. Thank God that I’ve got my nest egg of stolen dresses. That’s the real reason I steal—to have money when disaster strikes. I already saw what happened when my dad was killed and we were left with absolutely nothing, and since then, I’ve been determined to never be in that situation again. I know what I do is horribly wrong, and I promise to myself that I’ll stop stealing after we get over this hurdle. But tonight, I’ll be putting all my dresses up for sale on ebuyer.com, and those sparkly outfits are going to be our way out of here. I should have sold the dresses instead of running those stupid guns, but now I thank God that I didn’t because it means I still have the dresses as a fallback.
I make a mental note to also get one of those machines so that I can cut the security tags off the dresses. A finality settles over me. I’ll do whatever it takes to get the kids to somewhere away from harm. They deserve to grow up in a place that’s warm, safe, and full of love. They deserve so much more than what our mom can give them right now. We deserve more than that.
* * *
I’m on an early shift which means I’ll be home before the kids get back from school, so at least I won’t have to worry too much about Enzo today. But tomorrow and the next day, I’ll need to find someone to keep an eye on the kids until I finish work. If I can’t get a friend to do it, I’ll have to pay a sitter, and that’s something I really can’t afford.
I’m already anxious about how I’m going to find an apartment to rent and how I’m going to afford it. Places around here are far from cheap, and I don’t want the kids to have the upheaval of moving schools again. But a bartender’s salary doesn’t go far in this city, especially when it has to support one adult and three kids.
I pluck a dress off the hanger, admiring the shade which the tag describes as Sunset Hues . I’m desperately hoping what I get for all my dresses added together might be enough to get us out of here and well away from Enzo. But until they sell, I may as well wear them.
I slip the dress on before rushing around the room to quickly apply a little make up. My phone beeps with an incoming video call, and checking the phone, I see it’s from my best friend, Jacquetta.
“Hey,” I say in a rush.
“Hey, is this a bad time or something?” Jacquetta asks. Nicki, my other bestie, waves in the background.
I run a brush through my dark locks as I give them the short version of what happened with Enzo last night.
“That sucks,” Nicki says when I finish, sympathy soaking her words.
“I can’t imagine how hard that is,” Jacquetta adds.
“Yeah, it is, but I’m used to it by now. I just hate that I can’t shield the kids from my mom’s constant messed-up relationships, you know?”
“I understand,” Jacquetta says. “Well, I was calling to see if you wanted to hang out with Nicki and me, but I didn’t know you had to work.”
I close my eyes for a brief moment and sigh inwardly. “Trust me, I’d much rather hang out with you guys than deal with wealthy, entitled creeps at the casino. I hate to cut this short, but I’m running late. Can I text you later?”
“Sure. Talk to you later, Em!” Jacquetta says, and Nicki blows me a kiss as they hang up.
I slip my feet into a pair of stilettos and give myself a quick glance in the mirror one more time before I rush out of my room.
By the time I reach the living room, I find my mother already asleep. I exhale softly, walking over and putting a blanket over her before leaving the apartment.
When I arrive at the casino, I slip my bag into my locker, pausing to take a quick photo of the two dresses I have in there. There’s a bronze dress and a blue dress, and to my shame, they were my steals last week. Then bringing up ebuyer.com, I add a new listing for each dress. The proceeds from the bronze dress will go into my apartment fund while what I get for the blue cocktail dress will go to the single moms’ shelter.
Jacquetta has told me so many times that stealing two dresses at a time is dumb because it doubles the chances of getting caught. But I don’t see it like that. And it’s always been the way I operate, so that I have one dress for my rainy-day fund and one dress to sell for the single moms’ shelter. I know stealing and then giving some of the proceeds to a charity isn’t anywhere near enough to absolve me from my sins, but I just feel I have to do something to help those families out there, especially after my family ended up at one of those shelters. I still remember what it was like arriving at the shelter with my mom and siblings after we were left with nothing when my dad died. The feeling of desperation everywhere around us and the fear of what the future would bring. I know my reasons and methods are completely messed up, just like everything else about my life. One day, I’m going to figure out a proper way to help the shelter. I already volunteer one evening a week there, but it never seems enough.
Finishing the listings, I clock in and head to the bar. “Get me five glasses of champagne, and hurry up,” a nasal voice demands, and I turn around to face my first customer. It’s Ria Gioberti. Just great. I catch sight of the table she indicates, and I see that she’s sat with a handful of our ex-classmates from St. Saviors. I smother a sigh. Ria’s dad is an Imperiosi captain, so she has plenty of money to spend at a place like this, but I really hope that she isn’t going to spend my entire shift hanging out here.
Things are busy, and I make up drinks swiftly, trying to keep up with the orders. A while later, things calm down a little, and I’ve just finished rearranging the vase of fresh red roses that’s on the bar. I take a moment to inhale their heady scent. The casino has black and red décor, and there’s always fresh red flowers throughout the place.
The supervisor is on her break, and there’s no customers to serve, so I take out my phone and check the latest chess game I’m playing. It’s an online chess website where you can play to win money. It’s a useful side hustle for me, especially when I’ve got so many bills to pay.
I check my opponent’s latest move. I’m playing the Sicilian Defense, but I’ve chosen to go with the Taimanov Variation. After my most recent moves, I can tell that my opponent is off balance. My excitement is mounting because we’re not far off the endgame.
I’m pondering my next move when I sense a customer approaching the bar. Looking up with my usual welcoming smile, my expression suddenly freezes. Because I find myself staring into the eyes of the last person I expected to see here today…
I snap the phone’s off button to make the screen blank. “What are you doing here?”
“Is that how you greet all your customers?” Saint drawls.
“I don’t like liars,” I blurt out.
He raises an eyebrow. “I lied to you?”
“You never told me that you weren’t a cop.”
“You never asked.” The silence beats between us. “And I thought I’d get more information out of you that way.”
“More information out of me?”
“Yeah,” he nods. “You know, like getting to know you.”
My eyebrows shoot up. “ You couldn’t just make small talk like a normal person ?”
He shrugs. “I don’t do small talk.”
I open my mouth but then close it. He thinks it’s okay to scare someone like that because he wants to get to know them but wants to get out of making small talk? Jesus . “If you weren’t a cop, why on earth did you have me locked in the back of your car?”
“I had the child locks on.”
My jaw drops. “ Child locks ?”
He shrugs. “What can I say? The thought of a woman locked in the back of my car and at my mercy does something to me.”
I laser him with a glittering glare.
“Look, I never said I was a cop.”
“But you knew I thought you were one. I thought I was under arrest or something. It’s called lying by omission.”
“I didn’t read you your Miranda rights.”
“Yeah, well, when someone’s terrified like that, it makes it hard to think straight,” I mutter, annoyed with myself that I never thought of that. I shake my head. “I assume you’re standing here because you want something to drink? So, what can I get you?”
“Whiskey. Neat.” He slides some bills across the bar.
My head bobs, and I move to grab the glass and bottle, pouring it like I’ve done a hundred times before. I decide to change the subject as I slide his drink across to him with a smile. “You still haven’t told me your name.”
“I told you, you can call me Saint.”
I exhale a soft sigh. How can one man be so infuriating yet magnetic at the same time? “What are you doing here anyway?”
“Meeting Christian.” He’s gazing intently at the vase of red roses in front of him.
I turn around to stack some clean glasses on the counter.
And by the time I turn back, I find he’s ripped the petals off half the roses, leaving them scattered on the bar top.
I’m distracted by the look that passes over his face, but only for a split second. “What do you think you’re doing?”
He looks up. “Sorry… I just hate red roses.”
My eyes widen. “Let me guess, you’re the sort of person who also hates children, animals, rainbows, and unicorns.”
“And I bet you’re the sort of person who loves those things,” he retorts as he looks at me carefully.
I shrug and can’t help a wide smile. “Sure, stuff like that makes me happy. I mean, rainbows are beautiful, unicorns are magical, and kids and animals are cute, so what’s not to like?” I know I probably sound like an idiot, but with the mess my life is in, I like to take pleasure from the small things.
He continues to look at me like he’s trying to figure out a puzzle. And then his eyes trail down my face to my lips, his intent gaze making a strange sensation prickle over my skin.
I start to tidy up the petals before the supervisor complains about the mess. A couple of petals flutter to the floor on his side of the bar, so I walk around to retrieve them.
Crouching down next to his bar chair, I see his wallet peeking out from the inside breast pocket of his jacket which he’s slung over the back of his chair.
I have a sudden idea.
And without another thought, I slip the button on the pocket open and swipe his wallet. Okay, it seems like a good idea at this very moment, but I’m not exactly known for making the best decisions in life. And I slip it into the pocket of my apron before picking up the ripped red petals and walking back behind the bar.
At that moment, Christian makes an appearance. “Ready?” he says to Saint.
“Yeah,” he replies, downing the rest of his drink. “Thanks,” he murmurs as he walks off toward one of the tables at the back.
“Jeez, Emerald, those flowers look a real mess,” Christian comments as he frowns at the vase of roses before following Saint.
I send a scowl after Saint, and as soon as the coast is clear, my hand slips into my pocket, my fingers wrapping around the expensive, smooth leather of his wallet.
Whipping it out, I flip it open.
And I immediately find what I’m looking for.
His driver’s license.
With his real name.
And when I see it, I huff out a sigh of disbelief.
You’ve got to be kidding me .