11. ADRIANA
ADRIANA
A ngela and I sat at the small dinner table in my cramped kitchen. Lucy was running late, as usual. Lucy always said she preferred to be “fashionably late,” which somehow excused the fact that Angela and I had been waiting for her for half an hour now. Angela leaned across the table, wearing a mischievous grin. “Have you ever been to a speakeasy before?” she asked.
“No, do they still exist?”
“Well, of course! And it’s Friday night, so you should come with me to my speakeasy,” Angela declared.
“ Your speakeasy? What are you talking about?”
“I own one, it’s called The Wise Guy . Have you ever gone into the supply closet at Davidson’s during one of your shifts?”
“Yeah, plenty of times. Why?”
“That’s where it’s at. It’s hidden, and you’d need a password to get in if you find the door. But lucky for you, I own the place. We can bring Michael, Enzo, and Antonio over to hang out at my place. Val can babysit while we’re out, and it’ll be fun,” Angela said. “Plus, I think you could use a night out.”
“I’m not sure if I should be impressed or concerned,” I said, eyeing her. She mentioned she’d owned a bar, but I had no idea she ran a speakeasy hidden in the same place I worked. But with Angela—bar, speakeasy—they were the same difference.
“Anyway, you, me, and Lucy are going tonight. You’re coming, no arguments,” she said with finality.
“I don’t know, Angela,” I said, anxiety gnawing at my chest. That familiar tightness began to consume my chest.
I had been struggling with nightmares, vivid horrors pulling me from sleep at all hours of the night. Each one felt like an omen, a reminder of the danger we were in, of how close we were to being discovered. The thought of someone finding us paralyzed me with fear every day. I had become an award-winning actress, working my shift at Davidson’s, being a mother to Antonio, and harboring a sinful secret that only Antonio and I knew. But it was at night that the act slipped away. I was left with myself and the things I had done. Whether they were out of protection for my son or not, I had still done them. I had pulled the trigger, causing a man's death. An act that was still a crime, even if he were a bad man.
I paced the living room floor all hours of the night, trying to shake off the images, but they lingered, gnawing at my consciousness. Sometimes, my chest would tighten, and I’d break down, tears streaming down my face as I thought of what I’d lose if they found us. What would happen to Antonio? What would happen to us? The police would rip him from my arms, and the fear of that alone threatened to swallow me whole. The idea of Antonio being taken from me, of him being forced to live a life without me—I’d much rather die than face a life behind bars away from him.
I felt helpless, trapped in my own reality. I had no plan, no escape. All I knew was I had to keep going, keep hiding, keep pretending everything was okay—even when I was far from okay.
Father Delgado had told me, in that hushed voice behind the confessional screen, that I should go to the police. That I should confess what I’d done—that I was the one who killed my husband. But what did he expect? I was sure the police already knew. When they found him dead in the kitchen, they would piece it together. They knew. They had to know. They had to be looking for me. It was only a matter of time before they found me.
I didn’t need to go to the precinct to confess. I couldn’t bring myself to face them. To turn myself in. Not when Antonio was finally starting to heal, finally starting to feel safe again after everything. I couldn’t— I wouldn’t —rip him from his new life. We’d arrived here, in the dead of winter, full of fear and desperation, and somehow, we’d survived. We’d rebuilt in mere weeks.
I’d take the sleepless nights. I’d take the nightmares. I’d carry this guilt with me every moment of my life if it meant keeping him safe. If it meant he could have the chance to be normal, to have the life he deserved. I would take it all to my grave. For Antonio, I would.
“Oh, come on! You’ve been cooped up too much. You deserve a night out, and this is the perfect night. Plus, Enzo has been begging for Antonio to spend the night.”
I half smiled. “Antonio has been asking the same.”
“And Joey’s going to be there,” she said with a smirk.
“Joey? How do you know he’ll be there?”
“He’s always there.” She grinned.
He’s always there?
She leaned back, grinning, “You’re coming. And when you’re sipping on the best Negronis you’ve ever had, you’ll thank me later.”
“Alright,” I sighed, giving in, “I’ll come. But only for you. I’m not going for any other reason. Except, maybe I could go for a Negroni.”
Angela smirked, knowing she’d won, just as Lucy walked through my front door. Angela could hardly contain the news when she saw Lucy. Anxiety still lingered, but the thought of seeing Joey, or having Joey see me, fueled me with a thrill I couldn’t quite understand. I could hardly care about the Negronis. But I wanted to wear my best dress and have Joey admire me. Even though I knew I shouldn’t. Even though I knew it was wrong.
The Wise Guy was unlike anything I’d ever seen. Amber-hued light bulbs lit an intimate glow across the room, while dark wood floors complemented leather couches and vintage decor scattered throughout. The music, a mix of Elvis Presley and Frank Sinatra, played softly in the background. The bar was stocked with premium liquor, and Angela served us Negronis in elegant vintage glassware. The seating was minimal—just a few round tables paired with leather couches, each accompanied by an antique lamp and a glass ashtray on the tabletop. A velvet curtain concealed a hidden VIP section in the back. Angela let me peek behind the curtain, where there was a singular poker table sitting in the center of the room.
The Wise Guy filled up quicker than I expected, though I didn’t know what to expect. I stayed by the bar to keep Angela company as she mixed drinks for the guys coming in. My eyes flicked toward the door every time it opened, hoping the next person to walk through would be Joey. He finally strode in alongside Paul and Marco. Marco had a thing for Angela, but she wasn’t the type of woman you could easily tie down.
Joey's eyes didn’t take long to find mine, and his usual swagger faltered. His gaze followed me as I moved closer to Angela at the bar. My hair was styled in victory rolls, and I wore a navy knee-length dress paired with a bold, red lip. It was the first time in a long time I had felt this confident in myself. And a part of me wanted someone to notice. But not just anyone— Joey . I wanted Joey to notice me. This version of me. Not the one he was used to seeing.
He walked over, his eyes never leaving mine. As he drew closer, a smirk danced at the corner of his lips. “Well, well, well, look who decided to join us tonight,” he said, his gaze sweeping over me. “You clean up nice, Adriana. Real nice. ”
I tried not to smile, but my efforts were a waste. “Is that supposed to be a compliment?”
“Do you take ‘you’re the best-looking woman in the room’ as a compliment?” He grinned, glancing around the room quickly before his eyes returned to me. I could feel the heat rise to my cheeks, certain I was blushing beet red.
He let out a soft chuckle, stepping back but never breaking eye contact. “Enjoy yourself tonight. And if you need another drink—or someone to remind you how good you look—you know where to find me.” He flashed that smile as he let Paul and Marco pull him off in the opposite direction.
His confident stride made it hard to look elsewhere. The way he moved, so sure of himself, seemed to command the entire room's attention. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he owned the place because he seemed to own every room he walked into. I couldn’t help but notice the way his shoulders tensed and relaxed with each step, how his eyes flicked back toward me as he took a seat in one of the booths. I shook myself out of the trance, trying to focus on Angela's conversation with Lucy. But Joey’s smile echoed in my mind. He was so mysterious and intoxicating, it was hard not to pay attention to him.
The Wise Guy came to life as the hours ticked by, with soft music filling the smoke-laden room. Couples drifted to the small dance floor, their bodies swaying. I sat at the bar with Angela and Lucy, nursing my second Negroni of the night.
I felt Joey’s presence before I even saw him. I had trained myself to feel anyone sneaking up behind me. Angela and Lucy’s eyes widened in sync before darting to mine. Their expressions betrayed something—someone—fast approaching. And I knew it was him even without their bulging eyes trying to tell me so.
I whipped my head around, and there he was. Joey stood with effortless charm, one hand tucked into his pocket, a smirk teasing the corner of his lips. His intense, blue eyes demanding that mine meet his.
He tilted his head towards the dance floor. “What do you say, one dance?”
Lucy nudged my arm. “Oh, go on. The man’s practically begging. Don’t make a man like him get on his knees for you.”
“Why not? I think that would be very entertaining,” Angela chimed in. “Adriana, make him sweat it out.”
“One dance,” I said, rising to my feet and smoothing out the creases in my dress.
Joey smirked, extending his hand. “That’s all I need.”
I slipped my hand into his, and he led me to the dance floor. As the soft strains of Earth Angel filled the room, he placed one hand on my waist, the other clasping mine with an easy air of confidence. We began to sway to the slow rhythm. Our movements felt natural, almost effortless, but the tension between us felt static. Every step, every brush of his fingers sent a shiver down my spine. Though I tried to act unaffected, I think he sensed it.
“I didn’t take you for much of a dancer,” I murmured, glancing up at him.
His smirk softened. “I’m full of surprises.” The warmth of his hand on my waist lingered, his eyes never leaving mine. “You’re good at this,” he murmured, leaning in just enough for his breath to brush against my ear. His low voice sent a shiver racing up my neck, and I tried to keep my composure. But it was becoming an internal battle that I knew I could not control if he continued to touch me with such purpose. Like he knew exactly what he was doing.
“Does that surprise you?” I asked him, arching a playful eyebrow.
“A little.” He grinned. “Thought you might step on my toes just to prove a point. ”
“The night’s still young,” I smirked. “Don’t take it off the table yet.”
“You should let yourself have fun more often. It suits you,” he said, his tone just as soft as his blue eyes. “You’re different. You know that?”
“Different how?”
He tilted his head slightly, studying me. “You don’t belong in a place like this. But at the same time, you fit so perfectly. Like you were supposed to be here all along.”
The song played on, but I hardly heard it anymore. It was just the sound of his voice, the warmth of his touch, and the sense that we were the only two people in the world. His hand lingered at my waist for a fraction longer as the song ended before he let me go. His eyes stayed locked on mine, holding my gaze in a way that made it impossible to look away. But I took a step back, my pulse racing. Joey just grinned—slow, satisfied, and entirely too confident—knowing exactly the effect he’d had on me.
The walk back to the bar felt like miles away. Every nerve in my body was on fire. A hot, electric pulse that made my heart hammer away in my chest. The feeling of Joey holding me so close lingered on my skin still, a sensation that shouldn’t have felt so right. My mind kept telling me to stay away, to remind myself that this —whatever this was—was wrong. But I couldn’t. I didn’t want to. There was something about being so near to him that made me feel safe.
Safe . The word echoed in my head, confusing me. No man had ever made me feel that way before. I’d spent years living in constant fear. But with Joey’s arms around me, I felt shielded. Protected. I couldn’t let myself get lost in it. I couldn’t let myself need him. But God , the way he held me, the way he made the world outside feel so far away, was like a dream I wasn’t sure I was ready to wake up from.
Angela and Lucy were waiting at the bar, their eyes locking onto me as I approached. My cheeks burned with heat. I was too bashful to meet their gaze, my nerves fluttering in my stomach. I kept my head down, avoiding their intrusive gazes, and slid onto the barstool.
“Jesus Christ, Adriana, what was going on out there?” Angela teased, her voice dripping an octave lower as she leaned on the bar.
I groaned. “It was just a dance.”
But I knew it was no dance. It was the start of something that I should put a stop to. Only I wasn’t sure I was strong enough to do it.
“Just a dance ?” Lucy exclaimed, throwing up her hands. “Hector, better look at me like that next time I see him, or he’s getting an earful!”
I rolled my eyes. “You’re imagining things. Joey’s just?—”
“Not fooling anyone,” Angela interrupted, smirking as she pointed a finger at me. “If a man looked at me like that, I’d lose all self-control right there on the dance floor. And someone would have to take over this bar for me!”
“A man does look at you like that,” I shot back with a grin. “Marco!”
Angela wagged a finger at me, still chuckling. “Don’t even try it. Marco doesn’t smirk like he’s got some secret he’s hiding. He’s obvious about it. Joey practically burned a hole through you with his eyes.”
Lucy nodded vigorously, taking a sip of her drink. “It’s true, babe. That wasn’t just a dance; that was the start of a good love story. And tension. Not just any kind of tension, if you know what I mean.”
I shook my head, laughing despite myself. “Or perhaps you both need to get your eyes checked.”
“Oh, please,” Angela said, leaning closer with a grin. “Just admit it—you liked it.”
I stayed quiet, sipping my drink, refusing to give them the satisfaction. But as the music swirled around the room and I glanced at where Joey had been standing moments ago, I couldn’t quite keep the smile off my face. It was another secret that would only live in my head—I did like it. I liked it a lot. I liked how his hungry eyes drank me in. How his hands held me as if he’d done it many times before. I liked it all. More than I should. More than I wanted to.