21. Hendrix
Hendrix
T he silence is deafening as all six of us are seated around the dining room table. Mom, Vic, Auntie Pop, and Theory got back early this morning, and as I expected the first two’s lips only get moving when they’re shoving spaghetti into their mouths.
I, on the other hand, only have an appetite for answers about what the hell is going on.
Days have passed since Saint kicked Carlo out of his dorm room, and to my surprise I haven’t seen the guy since.
I’ve spent a lot of this time conjuring up all the possible scenarios, close to every one of them involving the mafia family my father was affiliated with.
Or I guess, is affiliated with.
Naturally, I asked Archer if he knew anything about what the Royal families could have going on, but he insisted he didn’t have a clue. Not even when I pressed him about Carlo, who did, in fact, come back squeaky clean when I looked his name up.
Archer talks, but never lies, so in the end I let it go and stuck with Google…not getting much out of it other than a vague article about tensions rising between the Salvinis and the Ivanovs.
Which I already expected to find, since the Italians and Russians have been at odds for a while.
What I didn’t expect on my trip down the rabbit hole, is not finding a single picture of the former head of the Salvinis, or one of the current. It made me really pissed at myself for never caring enough about due diligence after finding out about my dad.
I’ve got an elbow on the table, my temple resting against the palm of my hand, when Mom chirps, “So, are you kids excited to start school tomorrow?”
My gaze drifts to Saint, who’s eyes are drilling holes into Vic’s head, then to Theory, who although stays quiet, I can tell is counting down the minutes by her fresh haircut and small tinseled braids.
When it’s clear neither of them will be offering a response, I pick up my fork and twirl spaghetti around it. “Not really.”
“Oh, c’mon. Senior year is exciting.”
“Then you should enroll.”
“I just…” She looks down at her plate. “Forget it.”
I don’t need Auntie Pop’s current scolding to bring forth that guilt again, because it’s already eating away at me like I wish I could eat this damn spaghetti.
I blink Mom’s way. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay, baby. I understand. I know you’ve been through a lot.”
“No, you’ve been putting me through a lot.”
She gives me a sympathetic nod. “You’re right.”
“So then give her some fucking answers.” Saint spits the words, making his father slam a hand on the table.
“Saint Matthias. You will not speak this way to your stepmother.”
Saint looks like he wants to say just as much deplorable shit to his dad as I do my mom, but unlike me doesn’t hold back.
“I don’t give a fuck who she is if she’s lying to Hendrix.”
I freeze, equal parts horrified and appreciative as I watch my mom and aunt’s mouths gape from his harsh words.
His dad on the other hand, there’s rage, and an odd sense of pride in the look on his face. “We will be discussing this later.”
“Better make sure to loosen the nut belts first.”
“That’s it…” Vic stands, but my mother grabs him by the arm to pull him back down.
“I, for one, can’t wait to see my new dorm room!” Theory shouts frantically, as usual, trying to deescalate.
Vic’s eyes…I do not like the way they’re closing. “Oh, I must’ve forgot to mention…”
No.
No.
Fucking no.
Mentions are almost always “forgotten” for a reason.
“Turns out the female dorms will not be ready tomorrow as we expected.”
In a split second my back is straight. “You said—”
“I know.” Vic holds up a hand. “But I got a call from the foreman, his guys ran into a shtick today. So the building is not ready for occupancy.”
Every hope and dream for senior year dies with his announcement—because I know exactly what will be suggested next.
And there’s no way I can do it.
“So, you, Theory,” Vic nods her way, “will be staying in a newly vacant room in the male dorms.” Now it’s my turn. “And you, Hendrix, will remain with Saint for the time being.”
Theory shimmies her shoulders. “Works for me.”
“What the hell?!” I exclaim. “Why can’t I just stay with Theory?”
“Because your shit’s thrown all over my room and you don’t have a choice.” Saint’s gravelly voice comes from my left.
So much for him being on my side.
“Your brother’s right, Hendrix.” Vic intercedes before I can, and hearing him refer to Saint as my brother not only pisses me off but grosses me out too.
I’d correct him, but I doubt adding a “step” before the “brother” would do anything to make fucking his son any less forbidden.
“He is not right.”
Pretty sure God would agree.
“You’re already unpacked and settled. It would make no sense to up and move for the short time being. Plus, I’m sure Saint is more than willing to continue sleeping on the couch so you’re comfortable.”
This garners a low chuckle from Saint, and almost me too.
The fact this man truly believes his son is capable of not trying to have sex with a girl spending the night in his room is straight madness. Let alone offer up his bed.
But none of this matters.
Because after days of extending our little tryst, I made a decision this morning to cut ties with Saint’s dick, and it’ll be hella hard for me to do if I’m sleeping next to it.
“I’d rather stay here…go back and forth.”
“I’m sorry but work’s a bit hectic, I also won’t be around much in the coming weeks.”
My eyes dart side to side. “Yeah but my mother and aunt will be here.”
“No. They will be joining me.”
Every bit of self-control bursts out of me in violent waves. “That’s it. Tell me right now what the hell is going on!” I point a finger at my mother. “And no more smoke and mirrors or else I’ll drop out of senior year completely.”
Which I’m old enough to do thanks to Mom taking a whole extra year of smothering me before letting me start kindergarten.
But that doesn’t mean I actually would.
I’ve got my eyes set on a prize, and that prize needs a high school diploma.
“Hendrix, calm down.”
“Not when you keep lying!”
“I’m doing no such thing.”
“Evading the truth then. Same shit.”
“You’re confused, baby. Take a breath.”
Vic reaches over to Mom, placing a reassuring hand on hers. “Juniper, dear, that’s enough.”
She concedes through a smile, and he lets her go.
“May I have a private word with you, Hendrix?” Vic asks, and unlike most powerful men is humble enough to actually allow me to answer.
Everything in my body is screaming for me not to agree, knowing the sucker I’m slowly becoming to his kindness.
My body wins…at least until I watch Vic’s eyes go from soft to troubled. “Please.”
“Fine,” I mutter and stand, sliding my chair back.
Saint eyes his father closely as he stands, making his way over to where I am, but he doesn’t intervene.
For self-serving purposes, I’m sure.
Vic gestures to the dining room exit. “After you.”
It never ceases to amaze me how big the Lavell mansion is on the inside, and how easily the outside can be overlooked up against the surrounding buildings.
The halls are narrow, but go on for days, stretching well into the street on the opposite side of the front door, and the high ceilings make even mountains seem like molehills as I walk through them.
My attention gets drawn to a painting of an old lady wearing a headscarf, sitting on a stool holding a bouquet of sunset peonies.
The dark shadows under her eyes, lining of her wrinkles, even the peach color of her skin captures such a realistic image.
Her face tells a story I can almost hear, which is one of my favorite things about visual art.
It’s subjective, yet still speaks for itself.
“That’s my great, great, great grandmother Esme Lavell,” Vic states, pointing to the picture I didn’t even realize I stopped to keep looking at. “She was a wonderful woman.” He pauses, a familiar charm lifting the corner of his lips. “Or so I was told.”
I let out a small chuckle. “Was gonna say…you look great for your age.”
“I’ll still take the compliment if you’re willing.”
I roll my eyes. “As if any of the Lavells need a reminder.”
Vic’s deep, genuine laugh warms my insides. “Fair enough.”
Silence fills the space between us as we each return to examining the portrait.
“I know this situation isn’t ideal for you, Hendrix.” Vic looks straight ahead, hands intertwined behind his back. “And I completely understand why.”
I huff an irritated breath. “Would love to hear your theory.”
“For starters…you feel like I stole someone important from you.”
Another huff. “Go on…”
I can tell how experienced of a man Vic is by the way he chooses not to make direct eye contact with me. A similar rule of engagement followed by humans encountering a wolf.
Or a psycho explosive son.
“You feel as though you’ve been forced into a position, a life, you never wanted. With people you barely even like.”
A sear rips down the back of my throat, rendering me speechless.
“Trust me, Hendrix. I don’t blame you.”
My head quirks his way. “You don’t? Why?”
“Because I’d feel the exact same way.”
I turn boldly to face him, and he does the same.
“What’s this about, Vic?”
“A few things…but I’d like to start with my mistake, if that’s alright with you.”
I nod.
“In all my efforts making promises to your mother, I realized recently that I’ve left out someone who is just as deserving. If not more.” After a heavy pause, Vic adds, “That someone being you.”
“It’s fine.” I shake my head, not wanting a man like him to ever feel guilty for falling in love with my mom.
“No, it’s absolutely not fine. Please let me finish.”
I nod again, but this time as the one unable to meet his gaze.
“I never gave you the chance to get to know me, and for that I am sorry…because if I did then you’d know I am always a man, husband, and father of honor.
So I’m promising you right now, Hendrix, as we stand in this hallway in front of my great, great, great grandmother Esme who was a wonderful woman, that I will make it my life’s duty to care for and protect you and your mother. Even your aunt.”
“We don’t need you to take care of us.”
The words were not meant to sound as slighted as they were, but I can’t help it. I’ve never had a man besides my grandfather ever make such heavy promises.
“I know that, and I respect it. But I’m also a man of tradition.”
“And I can respect that.”
“Good,” his head dips to meet my eyes, “because being under my care does not take away from you, your mother, or your aunt’s independence. All it does is confirm I will be the one at the frontlines."
There aren’t many ways to argue with such a bold declaration, especially when I know, without a shadow of a doubt, Vic means it. But standing before me at the frontlines does not justify keeping secrets.
“So if we’re a team like you claim, then I deserve to know what kind of trouble we’re in.”
“That, unfortunately, is not something I’m willing to do.”
“Why not?”
“Because, Hendrix, like I mentioned before, I am a man of honor.”
“Yeah, well, a man of honor wouldn’t hide shit from me.”
“He would if it was to protect you.”
“Protect me from the trouble— who —caused exactly?”
Not once did I think Vic was capable of masking his emotions as well as Saint, but right now, it’s like staring at the same blank canvas.
“Everyone has parts of their pasts they’d like to forget, but it doesn’t mean they go away.”
“More cryptic shit. Awesome.”
“You may not like this part of me, Hendrix, and I’m more than aware it can make you hate me. But even Jesus Christ asked his disciples to hold their silence. You know why?”
No.
Because a sermon is not something I signed up for when I followed him out of the dining room.
Yet here I am.
Unwilling to disregard his beliefs—even though he has no problem doing such things to me.
“Why?”
“Because he knew they could get hurt if they didn’t.”
“Then you’re admitting you caused the problem you’re trying to fix.”
“More like leaving my words open for your interpretation.”
Frustration coils every single one of my muscles.
“So you’re lying to me?”
“No.” He holds up a finger. “But I could’ve.”
I squeeze the bridge of my nose, fighting every impulse to leave his ass alone with Esme.
“What is it that you want from me, Vic? Blind trust? Because it’s not in me, sorry.”
“Then how about a little time?”
“For what?”
“For me to earn it.”
“Fine.” I cross my arms. “But I stay with Theory.”
“You’re looking for truth, Hendrix, right?”
“Obviously.”
“Okay, so here’s a very important one.” Vic glances over my shoulder, where we came from, then back at me. “Although my son’s methods are morally questionable, his instinct to protect is as sharp as glass.”
Great. Another fact I can’t argue.
“Here’s another truth, okay?”
When Vic remains silent for longer than my patience can tolerate, I blurt out, “Well, what is it?”
“You make him better.”
Okay, I take it all back. He’s as crazy as Saint.
“Have you not seen the animosity between us?”
“Of course I have, which is exactly why I know having you as a sister is good for him. Saint has a select few he cares enough about to fight for, or with.”
Not this sibling shit again.
And the ick that comes with it.
True story?
This guy would be glued to the confessional if he ever found out the filthy things me and his son did to each other.
“Also…” Vic sighs.
Enter karma.
Oh, kill me, Jesus. Please.
Take me out of my “also” misery.
“If this revelation’s gonna give me agita, I’d rather you save it for after I’ve thrown up.”
“On the contrary, I think what I have to say will make you happy.”
Well, he is due.
“If it involves spending more time alone in a room with Saint, I can guarantee you’re mistaken.”
“It involves…a mix of things that’ll benefit you.”
A.K.A. absolutely nothing that will benefit me.
“Let me begin by saying I don’t believe in using bribery to get what I want.”
“That’s real noble of you.”
Vic’s too focused mulling over his words to acknowledge my sarcasm, which only makes me dread this more.
“Remember how I mentioned a buddy of mine at Bromwell?”
My heart. It lurches. Possibly enough to crack a rib.
“Yeah?”
“Well, I ended up calling him, and he’s willing to check out your portfolio.”
“Wha—uh—why? Why would you do that?”
“Let’s call it anything but incentive to allow my son—and Carlo—to keep a close eye on you for a while.”
“Are you manipulating me, Victor Lavell?”
Because if he is, I’m not completely mad at it.
“Simply extending an olive branch…and maybe hoping you won’t fight me too hard on spending time with Saint. Getting to know him, and maybe even help protect him too.”
Bursting out a laugh, I respond, “Who the heck could Saint need protection from?”
I guess it’s a stupid question, given if Vic, or any of the Royal families are in trouble, it’s going to trickle down to their kids.
Maybe that’s why Vic’s smile doesn’t meet his eyes.
“Would you believe me if I told you himself?”
Yes, I tell myself instead of him.
Yes I fucking would.