Emilia (Part 1)(66)
Women in black booty shorts and sheer cropped tops strutted through the sea of men, their trays laden with glasses high overhead. Top forty hits boomed through the speaker system, mixing with the excited voices and laughter to create something resembling a roar. I looked wildly out of place.
Tugging on my wig, I used the brassy, wiry strands to obscure my face while I scanned the packed space for Sal. I stayed glued to the perimeter, praying no one would approach or recognize me. In hindsight, I should have stripped down to my underwear if I wanted to blend in.
I circled the room once, twice, three times, and my stomach dropped. It was official. I had exhausted all of my options. All of my calls to Sal went unanswered. I had stopped by his house, had a taxi drive me by his mom’s house, and nothing.
I slipped into a vacant red vinyl booth near the hallway to the private rooms, weighing my options. If I went home, Marcello would show up at my door bright and early to drive us to the airport. I couldn’t leave without talking to Sal. He’d been the light in an otherwise dark year. I’d leaned on him innumerable times. I had to find him. If he didn’t show up here by the time the bar closed, I’d camp out on his doorstep.
I loosened the belt around my jacket preparing for an extended stay when Sal’s unmistakable voice echoed down the hallway adjacent to my booth. While I’d only been down there a handful of times, I knew it led to the VIP rooms. My father claimed they were for business meetings or private parties. After seeing the bar in action, I suspected something far seedier took place in there.
Unsure if I should interrupt him or wait for him to come out, I hesitated until I remembered the exit at the end of the hall. If he snuck out the back door, I might not find him before my father found me. My mind made up, I trod softly along the amber-stained concrete floor, my heart soaring like a balloon with every step. When I identified his location, I flattened my back against the wall and peeked inside the partially open door.
Lettie was leaning against the wall beside a table, her tight red dress barely covering her underwear and her breasts heaving out of the plunging V-neck. Sal stood with his side to the door, his sleeves bunched up and his wavy hair sticking up like he had recently awakened. His suit jacket and tie were draped over the arm of a nearby club chair.
“You know,” Lettie dragged her red-polished fingers down Sal’s chest, “I couldn’t figure out why you wanted anything to do with Emilia when you could have me. I mean, look at her. She’s just a kid.”
I bit my lip to smother a gasp of disbelief. The excitement I experienced at hearing Sal’s voice and finding him twisted into something sinister and ugly. Sal had lied about his relationship with Lettie.
“Keep Emilia out of this.” He swatted her hand away. “She’s none of your business.”
“Oh, that’s where I beg to differ.”
“Let it go, Lettie. You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”
“Has Emilia figured out you’re a spy for her dad yet?”
My eyebrows shot together. What the hell was Lettie talking about? A spy? A freaking spy? That made no sense. Sal was my personal bodyguard until I left for Chicago. When would he have time to be a spy? Something was off here. Very off.
“It’s not like that. Emilia and I are friends.”
She snickered, a heavy dose of bitterness clinging to each cackle. Her flawless features were scrunched up into a sneer.
“Oh, I know it’s not supposed to be like that. Tell me, Sal. What would the all-powerful Dominick Trassato think of you banging his daughter? Because I’m pretty sure when he asked you to watch her, he didn’t anticipate you tarnishing his princess by sticking your dick in her.”
Sal slammed his fist into the wall next to her head. Drywall exploded, showering Lettie’s shoulder with fine white dust.
“Back the fuck off. You don’t know what you’re talking about. I haven’t touched Emilia, not like that anyway. We’re friends, and she has a little crush on me. That’s all. ”
“Oh, I know all about being friends with you. We were friends once and looked how that turned out.”
Sal rocked back on his heels and curled his bloodied fist into a ball. “Being with you was a mistake. One that I’ll never make again, so don’t go shoving that shit in my face. You have as much to lose as me if Pietro finds out.”
Stunned speechless, I slumped against the wall, not sure my legs would hold me. I begged my eyes to look away, but they refused to listen, and the scene in front of me only got uglier. Lettie ran the toe of her heeled foot up Sal’s pant leg, and bile crept up my throat. Lying pieces of shit, both of them. I couldn’t believe I felt even a flicker of guilt over what happened with Marcello.