Chapter 30
“I heard about your deal with Yaroslav,” Benny says as we follow the women into Safe Hearts Mission.
I glare at him, crossing my arms.
He takes off his Ray-Bans and slides them into his pocket. “You fall in love with one of these women, prepare to hear the gossip.”
I shake my head, still glaring. “That’s the difference between us, Marchetti. I’m not in love with anyone except my casino and money.”
“We all go through that denial phase.” He scratches his cheek, watching Neomi out of the corner of his eye.
My glare still doesn’t leave my face.
“Let me just say this.”
“I’d rather you not say shit,” I fire back.
He doesn’t listen. “I’ve never heard of a man willing to pay a million dollars for a woman he doesn’t care about. Most men wouldn’t even do that for their own wives.”
My glare drops, and I raise a brow. “You wouldn’t for yours?”
“I’d pay millions —motherfucking plural—for Neomi.
” He cuts a look from her to me. “You’re in that same club.
” He scrubs his hands together. “Though words of advice: get that balance paid. I have never and will never trust Yaroslav and his weird-ass son. Never trust anyone when it comes to the woman you love, let alone them.”
I motion toward the door. “You can leave. I got this covered.”
He chuckles. “I can’t wait for the reality to bite you in the ass.” He pats me on the back. “Have fun babysitting. Something happens to my wife, you won’t be alive long enough to worry about the Russians.”
There should be a research study done on how I went from Mafia capo to playing babysitter at a women's and children’s shelter.
I stand to the side, watching as Genesis introduces Neomi and her sisters to the shelter staff and then leads them into the kitchen. Three other people are working, preparing breakfast, while another sets out a row of chocolate milk cartons.
I take a look around the kitchen, realizing Genesis was right when she said they needed all the funding they could get. From the number of residents I’ve seen staying here, this amount of food won’t last them long.
The bananas are on their last few days.
I’ll have to fix that.
Behind the scenes, of course.
Genesis can’t know I’m doing shit out of the kindness of my heart.
She’ll try to pull some aw, romantic shit, like she did this morning. She’s lucky I didn’t catch that towel on fire and throw it at her.
Neomi and her sisters start cutting fruits and veggies while I follow Genesis back into the classroom we went in before. She unlocks a desk drawer and drags out a thick binder, dropping it onto the desk with a thud.
I stroll across the room, sit in a chair, and drum my fingers along my chin. “I’m ready for class, Miss Astor.”
I have to bite my tongue from calling her Mrs. Bellini .
She opens the binder, her eyes serious as they train on me. “Today’s class will be different. It’s a kids’ day.”
I cock my head to the side, not understanding.
“My students are children,” she says slowly, as if I need an extra moment to comprehend.
Before I can reply, kids start walking in, consuming the classroom.
If I have my guess, most of them are preteen to teenagers.
“Yo, Ms. Genesis!” one kid says, throwing a hacky sack in the air. “I saw you on TV. Don’t worry; I ain’t believing shit that comes out of those old-ass newscasters’ mouths.”
“Nate!” Genesis scolds. “Language.”
“You want me to beat them up?” a blonde girl asks. “I’ve been working on my right hook.”
“No, you should let me write a story about them,” another girl says, wearing a Looney Tunes T-shirt. “Show them how real journalism is done.”
Genesis motions for them to take their seats. “While I appreciate all the support, I am fine, and no violence or stories about them, okay? They’re just doing their job.”
“Who’s this sucker?” a kid with a Mohawk asks, pointing at me while taking the seat beside me. “Aren’t you a little old to be learning your ABCs, bro?”
Another girl snorts while three other kids burst out laughing.
Genesis covers her mouth, like she’s trying her hardest not to laugh.
What the fuck?
She didn’t tell me I’d come to the shelter and volunteer to be bullied.
I lean into the armrest, closer to the boy who called me a sucker. “I’ll give you twenty bucks if you convince the class they don’t want to learn today, and you guys leave.” I pull out a crisp twenty from my jacket pocket and hold it up.
“Whoa!” the kid says, jumping out of his chair. “This dude is trying to bribe me.” He snatches the twenty from my hand. “Thanks, man, but I take my education seriously.”
“All right, everyone,” Genesis says, finally taking control of these bad-ass kids, “let’s all be nice. This is my friend, Julian. He’s going to hang out with me while I teach today.”
“Friend or boyfriend ?” one girl, who looks to be the youngest, asks, turning in her chair to give me a thumbs-up. “He’s sooooo cute.”
“Friend,” Genesis clarifies, motioning for her to turn back around.
“Listen,” the one who stole my twenty says. “We love Ms. Genesis. She’s the coolest, and she spends extra time with us. If you break her heart, we will not be happy around here. Got it?”
I salute him. “Won’t happen.”
He holds out his fist, and I fist-bump him.
Then I make a grab for the twenty on his desk, but he swipes it before I can.
“Don’t think you’re faster than me,” he says with a childish smirk. “I can hear your old bones sounding creaky way over here.”
I draw back, shocked that this kid is talking to me like this.
Hell, is this how kids are?
Will mine come out talking shit and swiping cash?
With Bellini blood, who knows?
Genesis snaps her fingers. “Alllll right, everyone. Pay attention, or everyone gets an extra essay to write.”
I hear groans, and moans, and ughs coming from every corner of the classroom with one exception of a girl saying she loves homework with a squeal.
As she starts her class, I lean back and kick my foot on the desk.
The kid beside me does the same.
That results in a glare from Genesis, and I drop my foot, feeling like a student scolded.
I watch Genesis teach them about World War II.
Then tell them about Shakespeare.
It’s the most random class of stray knowledge I’ve ever heard. It’s like she just throws out whatever’s on her mind. Not only are the kids fully engaged with her, but so am I. They listen and answer her questions.
Watching her teach and have patience with these kids relaxes me.
Puts me in a trance where I can’t take my eyes off her.
She’ll be a phenomenal mother.
I chose well.
But did I only choose her for a child … or did I also choose her for me?