36. Paige
I’ve been sitting on this sun-drenched bench outside Damiano’s apartment for two hours, waiting for him to get home.
My phone was almost dead before I even got here, so I’ve been people watching. I saw a teenage boy shoot his shot with a girl while a group of their friends watched. They were holding hands a few minutes later, a huge, goofy smile on the kid’s face.
Then an orange tabby cat strutted by carrying half a cinnamon roll in its little mouth. He had icing in his whiskers and looked incredibly proud of himself. Lady Luck is lurking around here somewhere—hopefully she saved some good fortune for me.
A huge gorilla of a man plops down onto the bench next to me, the wooden slats shifting under his weight. “So you’re Paige.”
“Uhhmm. . .”
He’s tall, tan, and extremely good-looking. His arms are bigger than my thighs. He’s wearing sweatpants and a tight T-shirt, Gucci slides that I know cost a couple hundred bucks. He’s got tattoos on his arms and hands. I’m guessing he works for Damiano.
“He’s not coming back here anytime soon.” The guy motions toward Damiano’s building.
“Damiano?”
He nods. I’m waiting for him to say more, but he’s focused up the block. Two little old ladies are stopped, hollering at each other. A wheel on the shorter one’s granny cart is wedged in a crack in the sidewalk. She’s pushing on the cart, and the other is tugging on it, trying to break it free.
The wheel snaps clear off.
“Stay put. We’re not done here.” The guy jog-walks over to the ladies. They stop bickering as he approaches. He’s speaking to them in rapid Italian, his voice loud even though he’s not yelling.
He wolf-whistles, and two teenagers come sprinting over, though they walk the last few steps like they’re nervous. They look up at him like he’s a celebrity. He hands one of the kids some cash and the kid runs off at full speed. The other kid nods at whatever he’s saying.
“Grazie, Signore Galliano, Dio ti bendica,” the two ladies say over and over. They walk away, with the other kid following them, carrying the broken cart.
The guy walks back to my bench and sits again, one arm stretched wide across the backrest. “Where were we?”
“Do you know those women?”
“Me? No.”
“But they knew who you are.”
He smiles. “People from here know who I am.”
“So you’re Rob.”
“See? You’re catching on. Maybe you can be from here someday too.”
“Did that one kid take off with your money?”
“That kid?” He tips his head in the direction the kid ran off. “Naah. I sent him to Ace to buy the lady a new cart then take it to her apartment.”
A good one of those carts is, like, $100. It’s why I haven’t gotten one yet, though Gina told me I’m too young. She joked that when you turn fifty, one magically shows up on your doorstep.
“You’re not worried he’ll just run off and keep your money?”
“Fuck no. Not at all.”
“You always help strangers like that?”
An old man walks by and tips his hat at Rob. Rob nods back.
“This neighborhood—this community—it’s my job to take care of the people here. That crack in the sidewalk, the one the cart got stuck in? That sidewalk will be fixed tomorrow. Maybe later today.”
“So you guys kill people and help little old ladies?”
He lets out a long breath of air. “We keep the community safe. Sometimes it’s as easy as helping a little old lady with her groceries. Sometimes it’s not. Same goal though.”
We sit in silence for a few minutes. He seems perfectly comfortable with the quiet, but I’m not. “Why are you here? Outside Damiano’s apartment?”
“I was going to come by later today to water his plants. Then a little birdie told me you were sitting out here waiting for him. I waited an hour to see if you’d give up. Then I figured I’d save you from wasting the rest of the day.”
“Why are you taking care of his plants?”
Rob’s sitting with his legs spread wide, his hand on his thick thigh, his thumb tapping. “Dom’s staying with me until he gets his head back on straight. I don’t want him off on his own, all alone. He doesn’t trust any of the guys to be in his apartment except for me and Salvo, so it’s my turn to water the plants.”
“Funny that the big boss would be watering plants.”
“I’m more than his boss.”
We sit in silence for another minute.
“I really need to talk to Dom. Can I come to your place?”
Rob shakes his head.
“Can you give me his new phone number at least?”
“Not going to happen.”
“Why not?”
He shrugs his shoulders like the answer is obvious.
“He wants to talk to me, Rob. He came by my apartment last night.”
“Yeah? And what did he see while he was there?”
I swallow hard. Rob clearly knows what Damiano thinks he saw.
Or, really, he did see what he saw. But he didn’t see the rest.
He didn’t see the part where I didn’t go with Spencer to meet his friends, where I didn’t invite Spencer back inside with me.
He didn’t see the part where I kneeled on the hallway floor and carefully— reverently —scooped up Damiano’s mom’s orchid and all its dirt, brought it inside, and spent twenty minutes reading online about repotting an orchid.
“He saw me trying to move on. But he didn’t see the rest. I need to talk with him, Rob.”
“What’s changed?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, two weeks ago, you broke his heart because his job involves hurting people—and for the record, so there’s absolutely no misunderstanding about this part—he loves his job. I’m not going to sugarcoat that shit for you. So two weeks ago, accepting him for who he is was a nonstarter. You good with that side of him now?”
“No. How could I be good with that?”
He shrugs, then goes back to tapping his thigh.
I guess I thought maybe Damiano would give that up? I thought that’s why he came to my apartment, to tell me he’d change. I really need to talk to him.
We sit in silence.
Time to ask nicely. I turn my body toward his, put my hand on his forearm. “Please let me talk to him, Rob.” I hold his eye contact and smile. “It would mean a lot to me.”
He looks at me, his eyes dropping to my mouth then, for a split second, to my tits. Of course. His eyes move to my hand on his arm. He stares at it. “My little sister thinks saying pretty, pretty please and throwing a sweet smile will get her anything she wants too.”
Caught. I smile wider, then pull my hand away. “Does it work?”
“For Lyndie? Fuck yeah. The girl has every one of us wrapped around her finger. For you? You bat your eyelashes and ask me to buy you a new car? Yeah, I’d give in. But you ask me anything involving Damiano? Sorry, sweetheart, but absolutely not. I’ve got to look out for his best interests.”
“And I’m not in his best interests?” Ouch. I shrink into myself.
He shakes his head. “Look, I’m trying to be nice here. He’s finally getting back to normal. Being around people who accept him for exactly who he is—spending time with me and Salvo, spending time with the Cat girls—people who don’t ask him to change. He deserves people who accept him completely.”
I look away. That is exactly what Damiano deserves.
“You figure out a way to accept him for who he is—who he is without him having to change into who you want him to be? Then you can come find him at the Cat. Otherwise? Leave him alone.”
“But—”
“No buts, Paige. And don’t try finding some other way to track him down. Damiano may think he’s the big swinging dick around here, always watching my back to keep me safe. But don’t doubt for one second that I watch his back twice as hard. You hurt him again, and you answer to me. I’m giving you two options. Accept him completely and I will welcome you into my Famiglia with open arms. Otherwise, leave him the fuck alone so he can move on or I will personally make you regret it.”
With that, Rob gets up and leaves.