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Prologue
My father pulls me by the crook of my arm out of the car. The rain is falling from the sky in sheets, resulting in my entire suit becoming drenched within seconds.
“Hurry, boy. We can’t be late for our meeting with Mr. Connors. You know I don’t take tardiness well, and I can assume that he doesn’t, either. Keep your feet moving and your eyes down,” my father scolds.
My father is tall, with graying hair and a posh posture. His hair is always slicked back, his teeth white, and his shoes polished. I am the eldest son of a mafia boss and live in my father's shadow. I am to be seen, not heard. Otherwise, there will be consequences.
As we push open the heavy door, the smell of cigars and something stale hits me straight in the face. A half-nude lady stands behind a small pedestal. She smiles at us and offers my father a hand towel.
“Welcome, Mr. Moon. Your meeting with Mr. Connors will be in the corner booth,” she says to my father as he wipes his hands with the damp cloth.
“Yes, thank you–” he pauses to read her name tag and returns the towel. “Cookie.”
She gives us another smile and turns, walking us to where Mr. Connors has been waiting. I can't help but peek up from under my lashes. There are boobs and butts everywhere. My father brings me to such weird places. Poles are attached to the ceiling on a stage, while different girls with different outfits spin around, sticking their butts and other bits into men’s faces. I think I’m the youngest here. All I can see is a bunch of different men of different ages. Why is this so enjoyable for these men? Don't they have a girlfriend or wife at home who can do the same thing?
“Mr. Moon. How are you? Sit, sit,” a gentleman speaks, pulling me from my thoughts. He takes a long puff from behind his cigar and blows a ring of smoke in our direction. He is a fat, grumpy-looking man. The tip of his nose is bright red, as are his cheeks. He kind of reminds me of Santa Claus. Before he can catch me looking at him, I lower my eyes back towards my black dress shoes. “Oh, a child. He must be your oldest. He sure is a handsome fellow.”
My father sits opposite Mr. Connors while I stand by his side, still looking at my feet.
“Lolli! Get your skinny ass over here!” The fat thing of a man yells into the smokey room.
I fail to see her face, but the woman is wearing a pair of giant heels. I have no idea how she manages to walk in them. If anyone I knew wore those shoes, they would fall on their butts.
“Get the child something to drink. Let us talk about business alone.”
I look up at my father, who nods for me to go with the woman.
“Yes, sir,” she replies. “Come with me, cutie. How ‘bout we get a root beer float? What do you say?”
“Yes, please, ma'am.”
She directs me towards a stool at the end of the bar. My shoes stick to the floor, and I have to use a little more force to lift them while I walk. I sit and keep my eyes down like my father always tells me to.
“You can look, cutie. A little tit ain’t gonna harm ya.”
Glancing up, I realize what tits are. They are enormous and at eye level. I’ve never seen real ones look like that before. Lolli reaches over, handing me the float and ruffling up my hair.
As I'm sipping the last of my drink, I hear the man tell my father, "It sounds like we have an arrangement." I look up in time to see them stand up and shake hands as they part ways.
My father walks over to me with a beaming grin. “Come on, son. We’re going home.” We walk out, back into the cold rain. “I think you will be happy to know I have found you a wife. Everything has already been agreed upon. You'll marry on her twenty-first birthday. Happy late birthday, son. I know I’m a couple of months too late.”
“Thank you, sir. It’s okay,” I reply. I know better than to argue. It’s easier to agree with him now than to get my ass whooped later.
Chapter 1
Zolina
The leaves fall from the deciduous trees outside my window, turning my backyard into a horror movie set. The sky has started to darken, casting an array of beautiful ombre colors. Purples, blues, and pinks dance together in the atmosphere, chasing each other until blue takes over and midnight joins in.
I love the changing of the seasons. Warm sweaters and simmer pots filled with cinnamon and apples are two things I have come to cherish and adore every year. Oh, and roasting marshmallows over an open flame– as long as you don’t use a fork on a stove and burn the shit out of your mouth. I still remember doing that at a party when I was younger. I can still feel the way my tongue burns from the memory. There is just something about being around people this time of year. I have always admired the spooky season.
However, being around people this time of year has always been difficult for me, pushing my depression to an all-time high. Memories tend to resurface as the days get colder, and I can’t help but shy away from anyone and everyone. No one ever wants to see a sad princess; they like to see the person who embraces their costume.
Forcing my feelings into a box inside my mind, I hold the smartphone to my ear, the ringing sound buzzing into my skull until Jezi answers my call.
“What do you want, Zo? I’m not awake yet,” she grumbles.
"I know, I know, but Daddy said we can rent a ballroom for my twenty-first. So, do you want to come with me to help find me a dress? Or if you don't want to shop, you can just hang out.” I roll my eyes as I talk. Using my ‘princess voice’ so early in the morning makes me cringe.
