Yes, that's what I'm going to go ahead and believe. That guy… Roman? He just came to visit his grandma. Alek will pick her up some nice babushkas at the Russian grandma store or whatever. That seems reasonable. Totally.
The kettle begins to whistle, and I pour the water into a large mug with a peppermint tea bag inside. I'll let it steep for a couple of minutes before I grab an ice cube to cool it back down. I really want something in my belly besides regret right now.
I hear the front door open and my heart jumps. I'm totally not ready for this. Who's coming over? For that matter, where is my phone? Dammit. I'm all mixed up.
I come out of the kitchen with the mug between my hands, leaning slightly to peer around the corner. I catch a glimpse of Gianna's wavy hair as she strolls into the front room.
She looks at me and then her mouth opens to say something, but she stops. Her eyes narrow suspiciously. “What's up with you?”
I shrug dismissively. “Nothing. What's up with you?”
She puts her hand on her hip and sways her weight toward one leg. Her eyebrows go up at the outside edges and she looks me up and down. “You look different,” she says accusingly.
“I look hung over,” I mumble, shuffling over to the floral sofa and sitting down on it. I really hope she doesn't look too closely at me. I don't know why, but I don't want to tell her. If I could tell anybody, it would be Gianna, but right here in my living room? I don't think so.
When Daddy gave me the house, I got the feeling it was thoroughly wired for sound. Maybe video too. The 24-hour guards stationed at the front and back entrances were pretty good clues.
Daddy said that it was for my protection, but I get the feeling that it's more than that. He seems to always know where I am and what I'm doing. Sometimes I wonder if I’ve got a GPS tracker implanted in my body or something, but of course, that would be nuts. He’s probably just got some crazy intuition about me that’s dialled up to maximum at all times.
“Did you go out after you closed the club?” Gianna says shrewdly, her voice showing a little bit of hurt. I don't want her to think I'm going out partying without her, but I also don't want her to ask too many questions about what I did last night.
“Daddy and I had a… conversation. Then I needed a drink.”
She comes over and sits on the sofa next to me, leaning her elbow against the fluffy back cushions. I would not have picked out the sofa myself, but I guess it's okay. It's a little bit senior citizen for my taste, but I guess that's how Daddy either sees me, or wants me to be.
“What kind of conversation, hm? You okay?”
I cut my eyes toward her and nod confidentially. She knows that there's a risk in saying anything out loud with Nuncio always just around every corner. I know that she won't push me too hard until we're in a safer place.
“Well… I think I left my textbooks here,” she explains, changing the subject effortlessly. “I’ve got a finance midterm coming up, and I swear I haven't studied more than twenty minutes for that class.”
I nod, though we both know that's not true. Gianna doesn't do much besides study if she's not working. She's the most dedicated student I think I have ever met.
In high school, I would never have graduated without her help. It just comes so easily to her, while I was bored and restless most of the time. If I could have spent the whole four years of high school in music classes, that would've been fine with me. Music and drama, those got me excited. A little history too, since it's basically a series of one-act plays. But chemistry and composition? I never would have passed those without Gianna's help.
The front door opens and closes again just as Gianna is standing up from the sofa. She glances at me to see if I'm concerned, but I'm really not. Nuncio would not let anybody in the front door who wasn't already on Daddy's approved list of visitors anyway.
I know who it is by Gianna's posture before I even see him. She stands up straight and assumes a helpful, peaceful expression. It's Daddy, I can tell. Gianna has automatically gone into unobtrusive-girl-mode, just like we're supposed to.
“Good morning, Daddy,” I call out. My voice is tired and sick-sounding.
He walks into the room and scowls at me. His eyes flicker toward Gianna and she starts for the doorway. I hear her footsteps going up the stairs.
Daddy squints at me, waiting until her footsteps sound on the floorboards above our heads.
“You were out late last night,” he says.
I just nod. I don't want to say too much here, for fear he's going to read my mind or smell it on me, or whatever. I feel different. It must be completely obvious to every other human being in the world.
“You don't look so good. You feel okay?”