We meet eyes and laugh as we go get my checked coat and bag, exit the hotel. The night is cool, the air chilly, and I pull my coat tighter around me.
“Dad is going to be so pissed at you tomorrow,” I tell him.
“Fuck him.”
“And you ruined your suit.”
“Fuck it. I hate this thing, anyway.”
“But you look damn good in it.”
“Not as good as you look in that dress,” he says, picking me up. I yelp, try to squirm from his grip but can’t. He’s holding me above him, and he lowers me slowly, and I find myself astonished by his strength.
He dips me until my lips meet his, and I know that I shouldn’t, that we shouldn’t here, but I kiss him, and he me.
Anybody could see, it’s such a stupid risk to take. I don’t know how he makes me do these things.
“Come back to my place tonight, Dee.”
I push my lips together. “I can’t,” I whisper. “I’ve got to go into class early. It’s just easier if I sleep in my dorm room so I don’t have to deal with traffic in the morning. I don’t even have my car.”
“I’ll make it a night you’ll never forget,” he says, smirking. “You know I’m good for it. And I’ll take you to class tomorrow.”
“I don’t think I’ll forget this night already.”
“Of course you won’t.”
“Not because of that,” I say.
“Yes it was.”
“Don’t kid yourself. You’re not that good.”
“Yes I am.”
But I shake my head slowly at him. “I really need to go back to campus tonight. I’m sorry, you know I’d rather come home with you.”
“It’s alright,” he says.
“You could come by tomorrow. I have a break at lunch?”
“Bet your fucking ass I will. Will your roommate be out?”
“No!” I say, slapping his shoulder. “We can’t do that anymore, either. I think she suspects something already.”
“Just open a window.”
“Gross, it’s not because of the smell! You left your watch last time.”
“I was wondering where that went.”
“Yeah,” I say, widening my eyes at him. “See? You’re always getting me into trouble.”
“That’s what bad boys do to good girls.”
“Yeah, some good girl I am. Daughter of the most powerful mob boss in town, a man who kills people, sells drugs, and prostitutes women for a living.”
“You are good,” he says. He taps my chest. “Here. Right here. You’re a better person than I’ve ever known, and you’re not your father. His shit doesn’t roll down onto you.”
“Unfortunately… it does.”
“No.” He just states it. I wonder if it is naïve denial, or if he actually believes Dad’s reputation doesn’t extend onto me.
“It doesn’t make you bad,” he says. “Nobody should hold him against you.”
“They already do,” I whisper. “Come on. Which car are you driving?”
“Same one.”
“Still my mother’s? Why?”
“It reminds me of you. Does it bother you?”
“No,” I say truthfully. “It’s just not a very manly car.”
“Like I need a fucking car for that.”
He takes my hand, and together we walk away from the hotel.
“Wait, don’t you have a valet ticket?”
“I parked it myself.” He pulls out the keys, jingles them.
I snort. “Why would you do that? They valet park here.”
“I don’t need some special service to park my own fucking car.”
“They must have looked at you funny.”
“Well, they didn’t look twice.”
“You can be so weird sometimes.”
We find my mother’s car – the one she drove before she died – looking extremely conspicuous beside all the limos and Lambos. It’s just a two-door Volvo hatchback that she brought over with her from England when she moved to the States to do her west-to-east road trip.
I never knew Mom… never learned of the sentimental significance of the car. All I know is that she started in San Francisco, but never made it to the other coast. She met Dad in Chicago.
And, of course, Dad doesn’t talk about her. He just clams up and shuts up every time I bring her up. Or he gets grumpy and yells at me. So I don’t bring it up anymore. I’ve accepted that she’s just going to remain a mystery.
The car just collected dust until Duncan and I stole it one night from Dad’s garage for what amounted to a joyride.
“Why didn’t you want this car, Dee?”