Chapter 1 #13
Dad sits at the head of the table, suited, completely ignoring the madness as he reads the newspaper
"Jesus, Daisy," I say, grabbing coffee. "You look like someone sucked your soul out in your sleep."
She doesn’t even flinch. "Says the guy who stumbled in at 2AM. smelling like cotton candy, smoke, and Gio."
I freeze mid-pour. Oh she didn’t.
My father looks up from his newspaper.
Daisy. Daisy, babe. Sister of my blood. Why would you.
I shoot her a stare that practically screams WHAT THE HELL DID YOU JUST DO. She has the audacity to whisper "Sorry."
Sorry.
What am I supposed to do with "sorry"? Use it to shield my body from death? The temperature drops ten degrees. Silence.
"Were you with that punk?"
I don’t flinch. I swirl my coffee lazily.
How the hell do I explain this? Do I say, "Yes, father. My girlfriend abandoned me, and your favorite disappointment of a neighbor found me in pieces and dragged those pieces into a carnival full of fried food, cheap alcohol, and rides that tried to kill me." No. Can’t say that.
"He just happened to be there," I say flatly. "It’s not like we planned it."
He sets the paper down, every movement precise. "Do you have any idea how dangerous that boy is?"
I sip my coffee. Too hot. Burns my tongue. "Yeah," I say. "I know."
"And you still think it wise to keep his company?"
"I don’t plan on being his friend," I say. "So I’m not too concerned."
It’s not a lie. Just not the full truth.
My father leans back. "That boy is reckless. Arrogant."
He’s actually mad now. "He used to do lines off stripper’s thighs! Probably still does! He got arrested twice last month and came out smiling. Don’t you see the problem? An immature street-rat."
He looks like he’s about to make it worse. "He used to run packages for a dealer. Said he ‘never looked inside,’ but come on. Of course he knew. What if he drags you into trouble too? What are you going to do then?"
I hear it all.
Illegal racing. Noise complaints. Property damage. He keeps going. And going. And going.
All I can think is: yeah. That sounds like Gio.
I don’t interrupt. I let him talk. Because honestly? I don’t even know why he’s telling me any of this.
Yes, it’s concerning. Yes, Gio is a walking red flag factory.
But why does he think I care?
He’s not my problem.
"I’ve heard one too," Daisy says.
"Someone I know, who hooked up with someone who knows Gio, says he has this one tattoo…"
My hand freezes on my mug.
Jin smirks. "Well, obviously he has tattoos, you fool. Half the time he looks like a walking warning label."
"No," Daisy says, leaning in, lowering her voice. "A specific tattoo. Right above his… " She gestures vaguely under the table.
I choke. Coffee goes down the wrong pipe. I cough, heat rushing to my face. I don’t know if I’m embarrassed or dying. Probably both.
"Like, literally right above it. And it says—"
"Enough!" My father’s voice cracks through the room. Daisy goes silent.
Jin lets out a low whistle. "I wanna be this guy."
Daisy snaps at him. "No, you don’t. You’d need balls to pull that off."
My father sets the newspaper down. "That boy is a walking embarrassment. And the fact that any of you laugh about it is pathetic."
Daisy finally looks up. "I mean, no offense, but you gotta admit, Gio’s hot. Like, annoyingly hot. If he were straight, I’d probably make a move. Anyone would. No offense, dad. It’s the truth"
The air shifts.
My father’s jaw tightens. "He’s… into guys?! That makes it worse. Good thing you’re… normal. Because if he ever turned that filthy charm on you, I’d bury him myself. He’s disgusting."
I bite the inside of my cheek. Hard. I say nothing. I don’t like Gio enough to defend him.
But I don’t dislike him enough to agree with the absolute bullshit coming out of my father’s mouth either.
Jin leans toward Daisy. "So… how do you feel about the fact that I have more chances than you?"
Daisy snorts and smacks his arm.
I hide my smirk in my mug. I check my watch and look at mom as she appears in the hallway, fully armored in elegance.
"We leaving?" I ask. She nods, grabbing her purse. Dad folds his paper. "Let’s go close some deals."
"Let’s go pretend we’re not all mildly unhinged," I mutter.
Even at my own breakfast table, he somehow hijacks the spotlight.
Fucking Gio.
…
These conferences only get worse. Same voices. Same suits. Same empty promises about "the future." I sit through the third presentation, fighting a yawn.
Canada can’t come soon enough. I glance at my phone under the table, scrolling back to Sophia’s messages. We texted earlier, nothing heavy.
She wants to meet after the conference. Go for a swim. Talk. It feels hopeful. Familiar. Like maybe something still waits for me that isn’t marble floors and fake smiles. I look around the room, bored out of my mind. And then I notice.
Gio still isn’t here.
I lean toward my mom. "Where’s Gio?"
She barely turns her head.
"I don’t know, sweetheart. I haven’t seen him all morning."
I pull out my phone.
ME:
-Where the hell are you?
-Did the cops finally get you?
The typing bubble appears.
GIO:
-I’m with someone. Doing unholy things.
-Can’t come. Wish me luck.
I roll my eyes.
ME:
-You’re disgusting. Literally rotting.
-You’re missing a very important discussion. Your loss.
GIO:
-Just say you miss me, angel.
I send a middle finger. I should ignore him. Focus on the speaker droning on about legacy and responsibility. But Gio isn’t done.
GIO:
-Btw you good?
-Cuz your little girlfriend kinda sexted me last night.
-Either that or she’s really damn generous with compliments.
My stomach drops. "Bathroom," I mutter to my mom.
I speed-walk. Then run. I slam the door shut, lock it, press my back against it. This can’t be real.
If he’s joking, I’m killing him.
If he’s not, I’m killing him louder.
ME:
-What are you talking about?
-What messages?
-Does she even have your number?!
-You’re making this up. We are meeting today. We’re fixing things.
GIO:
-Wow. Fixing things?
-Bold of her to multitask like that.
ME:
-Send screenshots.
GIO:
-Nope. Confidentiality clause. She might be crazy and sue me.
ME:
-You’re lying.
GIO:
-Check her phone if you don’t believe me, Ravioli. Take deep breaths though. It’s pretty messed up.
ME:
-You’re trying to ruin this for me because I’m happy for once.
-What the hell is wrong with you?
GIO:
-Tranquillo, tesoro. You asked. I answered.
-Now if you’ll excuse me, someone’s calling my name, and it’s definitely not you.
-Kisses.
The typing bubble disappears.
I stare at the screen, heat crawling up my neck. Anger. Confusion. Absolutely not. No. I refuse that reality. Why would she do that? Why would Gio say that? Why would he think it’s funny? What did I do to deserve this level of emotional violence?
I’m actually angry now. Who does he think he is? Dropping that bomb like it’s nothing? Like, "Oh by the way, your girlfriend sexts me haha pass the salt."
What if… no.
No. Not possible. She wouldn’t. Not with him.
I shake my head, frustrated.
He’s lying. He’s lying. He’s lying. He’s lying. He’s messing with me. That’s what Gio does. He pushes until something breaks. I’m not giving him that satisfaction. Not this time.
Still, I can’t shake it. Not the twist in my stomach. Not the sting behind my eyes. And definitely not the image of Sophia’s name lighting up his screen instead of mine.