JoJo
Connor and my dad are having a morning “meeting” in the kitchen. I hear them talking as I tread down the carpeted stairs. I want coffee. Scratch that, I need coffee. But I also want to hear what those two are discussing. Sitting on the stairwell, I try to hear, but their words are muffled.
I tossed and turned all night.
McQueen shared his heart, got vulnerable and transparent, and basically all the things any woman is ever begging a man to be.
And that’s when I pushed him away the hardest, the deepest.
I never had his heart, but now, more than ever, I know I don’t deserve what I never really had.
Him.
His little sister was kidnapped and I’m acting like this super-sized stalker ain’t no thing. It’s callous and it’s cruel, to act so flippant about my life.
And sure, I know some people would say me getting in the ring, wanting to fight, is careless, too. But this is a whole other kind of stupid. This is me saying I don’t need anyone to help, when I so clearly do.
I’ve craved the thrill of fighting because it’s this one reckless thing I can have, where no one gets to take care of me, make choices for me. If I’m in a knee bar, I need to get myself out of that hold. Me. No one can help. If I’m in ankle lock and don’t want to lose the fight, I need to reposition myself without asking my dad or my brothers for advice. It’s the one place where I get to call all the shots for my life.
But right now, trying to do this on my own could end in something horrific. And I wouldn’t wish that on myself, and certainly not on my family.
Connor is louder now and I can hear his words.
“She wants me to be some pussy who’s home in time for dinner. I didn’t sign up for this, Tom. You know she called me last night? Bitching that she needed me to come get Justice because she wouldn’t stop crying. She has no fucking clue that I was out on a job, that I shot a guy who hadn’t paid us in the fucking head.”
I swallow, realizing this isn’t just some morning coffee date. I don’t want to know about their dirty work.
“At some point, this bullshit has to end,” my dad says. “You can’t sleep here, make me send a crew to your house every night to watch Mary and the kids. That’s your fucking job. Man up. Get your woman in check.”
I grimace at the way Dad refers to his daughter. Doesn’t he care about the way she’s treated? Besides, how exactly does he want Connor to get his point across? Beat her into submission? I wince at the idea of that, of the kids and my sister being put through that.
“It’s bullshit. You’re daughter is a bitch if she doesn’t get what she wants.”
“She’s also the mother of your children, Connor. Fuck, get a grip. What does she want?”
I breathe easier, hearing Dad say something reasonable.
“She wants a housecleaner, a nanny. Groceries delivered and a new car.”
“That’s it?” my dad asks, incredulous. “You know what, Connor, get the fuck out of my house.”
“What?” Connor asks, his chair shooting across the wood floor. “She’s demanding. She wants everything her way and doesn’t realize tha—”
“Enough.” Dad’s yelling now, moving around the room as he lays into Connor. “Mary has a baby. And little kids. You want her to be like your mother back in Boston, who’s never stopped being a slave to your father? Why would you want that? As if your mother was a fucking riot. No. She was a bitch because she was exhausted everyday of her damn life.”
My eyes go wide at Dad’s speech. Oh, shit. Connor’s getting told.
“And furthermore, son,” Dad berates, “Mary is my fucking daughter and I work hard for my family so my girl doesn’t have to wash clothes and sweep her fucking floor. That’s all she wants?” My dad pushes at something, and what sounds like another chair falls to the ground. “You’re skirting from your responsibility because you’re a fucking cheapskate? Go buy my daughter whoever and whatever the fuck she wants.”
Connor mumbles something, and then hurries from the room. He passes the stair and our eyes meet as he moves to the front door.
I close my eyes, overwhelmed at how I’m supposed to explain the stalker without opening up a huge can of worms. My dad can’t handle another cluster today. Hell, it’s not even ten a.m.
I walk into the kitchen, and see my dad fuming. Picking up the chair that’s flown across the room, I ask gingerly, “Want some coffee, Dad?”
He grunts a yes. “You hear all that?”
“Some of it,” I admit.
“I’ll be sure to have a nice long chat with the Grottos before your wedding. That shit ain’t gonna fly.”
I turn from him and pour the coffee, not wanting him to see my face, the tears surfacing. I blink them away as I pour in creamer.
Handing him the cup, I broach a subject that will make him happier than hearing me admit I’m an MMA fighter with a stalker.
“So where will the wedding be exactly? I told Lucy about it, and then I realized I didn’t exactly know what will be taking place. I assumed the court house?”
Dad runs his hands through his hair. “Ehh, they want a ceremony. It’ll be on the 14th.”
I breathe a sigh of relief. That’s two days after the big fight. In my most dramatic, worst-case scenarios, I imagined the fight being the same day as the wedding. But that would only happen in over-the-top soap operas.
When I fought with Kit yesterday, I told him I’d still fight, but under a fake name, and no head shots. I’m willing to be photographed, but only my lower body. I don’t want my brothers or Dad to get wind of the fight.
It will be my final act as a single woman.
“And the Grottos don’t want a big ceremony, not after all the problems that Frank has faced this year. He needs to keep a low profile.”
“That makes sense. After the wedding... where will I live?”
“I don’t have those answers. The most important thing is your commitment to the plan, and your dedication to the family.”
“You can count on me.”
“I always can, Josephine. Thank you.” He gives me a warm smile, before checking something on his phone.
“Dad, you think Mary and Connor are going to be okay?”
Dad looks up from his screen and gives a small nod. “Mary’s a spitfire and bad at change, Connor’s a stick in the mud.”
“Why did you put them together then?” I ask.
Dad shakes his head. “I didn’t.”
“What do you mean?”
“Your mom made that match. She knew Mary needed someone who could rein her in. Connor goes overboard sometimes, but it’s good for both of them to have a partner who doesn’t just bend over and take it. They need the push and pull. Your mom was right.”
I’m quiet for a moment, my head swirling with fear and hope. I always thought Dad had arranged Mary’s marriage. Can I put away my desire for McQueen and focus on a future with Grotto?
“Jo,” Dad says. “Your mother and I were very different from the get-go. I’ve always been either a complete asshole or a pushover. She was wise and gentle and pure of heart. But she also didn’t put up with my bullshit. She spoke her mind. She was the best kind of woman. And you, Jo, are just like her. Any man will be lucky to have you. Frank Grotto is no exception.”
I give my dad a hug, burying my emotions in his arms, because the truth is, right now I don’t feel very wise. And I feel like I don’t know what is shit and what is bull.
All I know is that the O’Malleys and the Grottos are preparing to forge an alliance.
An alliance that’s going to break hearts. Both mine and McQueen’s.
Chapter Nineteen
McQUEEN
There’s a lot I don’t fucking know.
I don’t know the words of Plato or Shakespeare or fucking Mark Twain. But I know the words I’m going to tell JoJo.
If she’d just answer her fucking phone.
After the third try, I get in my car and drive to the gym.
Kit’s in his office watching something on his laptop, and, I shit you not, he’s jerking off to whatever he’s watching. I only see this because the blinds aren’t completely shut.
I cough to get his attention, and he slams the laptop shut. I must say, , I’m happy to see that as an older guy he’s still got it in him to get off.
He pulls up his sweats, grunts, won’t meet my eye. I’m laughing, not fazed at all. Fuck, I’m a male dancer. I’ve seen more cocks in my day than most guys would be comfortable with.
“You have JoJo’s home address?” I ask. “I need to see her.”
Off his game from getting caught watching porn, Kit doesn’t ask any questions, and gives me her address.
I plug it into my GPS and head her way. Whether or not she wants me to show up unannounced doesn’t matter right now. Right now, all I care about is seeing her and telling her how I feel. Telling her the lengths I’m willing to go to be with her.
I drive a good thirty minutes before I turn off to large stretches of land, where massive estates sit far back from the road. When I finally get to her house, I manage to control my breathing. She wasn’t messing around when she mentioned being the Boss’s daughter. There’s a large gated entrance, and I know I should try her again before barging in.