“You sent me out dry, Vince.”
I bite my knuckle, trying to suppress the rage I feel. He’s right, but that doesn’t make it piss me off any less. If I had told him to go wet, he would have found a way to take out her and anyone she talked to, but without the ability to do that, the only thing he could do was come talk to me.
I force myself to calm a little bit and give his shoulder a hard squeeze. “You did the right thing, Jimmy.”
He visibly relaxes.
“But,” I say, jabbing a finger at him. “I want you to go back right fuckin’ now. Find out what she’s doing, who she’s with, and remember every detail. Write it down if you have to. You only come back to me when she goes to sleep. Got it?”
He has the good sense to nod his head and quickly bolt for the door.
I smooth my suit and sigh. If this girl can’t keep her fuckin’ mouth shut, she’s going to wind up locked in my apartment. I definitely can’t hurt her, but I can’t have her running around town blabbing to everyone she knows. Besides, the thought of having her all to myself? I don’t know if I can pass that up.
First I’ve got to find out why the hell so many capos from other families are here. Whatever it is, I know it can’t be good.
10
Aubriella
After a couple days, Vince has started to seem more like a fever dream than reality. It doesn’t matter how many times I tell myself to stop thinking about him. I keep remembering the way he looked at me and the way he touched me. It was like he owned me. Normally, that would have pissed me off. But the way he wanted me made it different. It was like he would have literally killed anyone who tried to touch me while he was watching, like every inch of my skin that he kissed was a claim no one could ever undo. The thought of being so valuable to him still makes my skin prickle with excitement and my core clench.
At the same time, my cheeks burn with shame when I remember it. I let a complete stranger strip me naked, degrade me, fuck me, and cum inside me. If that’s not being a slut, I don’t know what is. I also don’t know if I care anymore. I turned him away. I ended it. So much for his persistence. I basically told him to fuck off yesterday morning and haven’t heard from him since, and it’s already evening. The realization that I might have actually made him give up hits me with more sadness than anything else, but some logical part of my mind knows it’s for the best.
I’m about to leave for work when someone knocks hard on the door of my apartment. My heart pounds. Is it him? No, I’m being stupid. It isn’t him. Why would he be here? He’s probably completely forgotten about me by now. Even if it was him, I’d slam the door in his face. He’s the last thing I need in my life right now.
I swing the door open and my stomach sinks. I’m greeted by two watery blue eyes. a balding man in his fifties with a four-day beard, a stained blue Mets baseball cap, and a smelly tan jacket. He’s thin, but has a round gut. Dad. I can hardly stand looking at him anymore. The way his narrow shoulders slump and that stupid old windbreaker he wears just make me want to cry. He’s a shell of what he was before Mom died.
“I have to go to work, Dad. I don’t have time for this. You smell like piss, have you bathed?”
He puts his hands up as if I’ve attacked him, giving the falsely pious look he loves so much. “I didn’t ask for anything, Aubriella. I just wanted to stop by and see my daughter.” He lurches forward and clumsily rights himself.
“You’re drunk,” I say dryly.
He has the balls to look indignant while he shoves past me, letting himself into my apartment. He talks over his shoulder to me as he heads toward the kitchen. “I raised you better than that. Talking to your father like he’s some drunk off the street. You should…” He trails off as he begins opening cabinets, moving through the drawers, the fridge, and even feeling around blindly on top of the freezer.
I wait with my arms crossed, having been through this too many times to feel anything but numb disappointment.
He finally straightens and faces me. “Where did you hide it?”
“I didn’t hide anything, Dad. If I had any booze in the house, you would take it. I don’t have money for it either after I get done paying your bills every month. What happened to that job at the car rental place?”
He waves away my question like it’s insignificant. “They were cunts. Fired me for being sick.”
“Did you call to let them know you were sick?”
He raises his hands like it’s the dumbest question on Earth. “I was puking my guts out. Making phone calls wasn’t the first thing on my mind.” He kneels, nearly toppling forward as he loses balance trying to look beneath the sink again. “Young fucking girl who doesn’t have a drop of liquor in the house,” he says slowly before stumbling towards my bedroom. “Right.”