He pulls out his phone and starts to make a call. Soledad drags herself out of the cake, her movements awkward, since the tiers are so high. She looks worse than the ghost girl crawling out of a TV inThe Ring.
Soledad runs toward me. “Ares!” She throws herself at me.
I sidestep, and she stumbles, bumping my drink and almost spilling it. She manages to right herself with a pout.
“Why are you so mean? Are you still upset about that guy? Forget about him. The hickeys are gone already.” She pushes her hair back, revealing her neck. “We can start fresh. I’ll let you putnewhickeys here.”
“New hickeys! And on the same spots. Well, thatisa temptation. But I’d rather not contract some yet-to-be-discovered strain of herpes.”
“I’m clean!”
“As clean as a fraternity’s bathroom floor after a mixer.” I can’t do this sober. I knock back the whiskey fast. “There’s no fresh start. We’re done.”
“Don’t be silly! I love you! I came here for you. For you and our future baby!” She puts a hand over her belly with a smile that’s clearly meant to be shy but only serves to make me recoil. “Imagine. Our family of three!”
The bright sparks in her eyes mix with Mom’s expression when she looked at me in the cabin, and I just can’t.
Soledad comes closer, and I put out one hand to stop her and grab another drink with the other.
“Come on, baby! Your uncle said he’d love to welcome me into the family!” she yells over the music.
Uncle?There are only two people I would consider an “uncle.” Ted Lasker, Aunt Jeremiah’s former lover and the father of her only son Huxley…or Harvey Dunkel, my mom’s psychopathic younger brother, whose life goal is to take over his family’s mafia empire and expand it far beyond the borders of Nesovia.
Ted would like Soledad because she’s what he would deem “hot,” but he has zero influence over my family. He’s never been part of it, and Aunt Jeremiah doesn’t give him time of the day unless he pays or it’s one of his ridiculous birthday parties. That leaves Harvey, who somehow seems to believe he has a familial tie with me because neither of us cares for my mom.
But he’s mistaken. The depth of my loathing for her is unmatched. I hate everything to do with her, including myself. Half the time I don’t even like my own eyes. Sometimes I can’t look at my face because I’m afraid there’s more of her there.
Soledad wraps her arms around mine, and I can’t seem to move fast enough to pull away.What the hell?She isn’t that quick, and I have great reflexes.
“Come on,” she whines nasally, tugging at me. I should resist, but inexplicably my feet follow her lead. The gears in my head turn slowly, as though they’re in a pool of cooling molasses.
She walks me out of the club. A few guys glance at me, but once they see that I’m with “a stripper,” they shoot me knowing smirks and turn away.
Damn it.The smog of the city hits me. The neon lights seem to sear my eyeballs, and I squint. Music, laughter and conversations buzz in my ears like angry bees. Soledad tugs at my arm. “This way, my love.”
“Not your love,” I say even as my body follows her.What’s going on?
“Yes, you are. You drank my love potion. I put it into your drink. Smooth, huh?”
“No. You’re fucking crazy.” As insane as my mother.
Humming, Soledad leads me down two blocks until we reach a steakhouse. She opens the door and steps inside. If her bikini shocks anyone, nobody shows it. The maître d’, crisp in a black-and-white suit and a bow tie, gestures at her to follow.
“Look at this! I can’t remember the last time we had a date,” she coos.
“Because we broke up.” My body might be doing her bidding, but my mouth remains independent. Dad would say it’s the Harvard training. Grandmother would credit my work at Huxley & Webber. Thank God for this small favor. If I couldn’t even talk back, I’d want to jump off a balcony.
Balconies…Wonder how Lareina is doing? Now,shewas somebody worth dredging up some concern and emotion for. At least she wasn’t clingy. No. She was too…notclingy, which was vaguely irritating now that I recall. And yet she was desperate enough to climb over those gargoyles. Did she have some kind of circus training? A cat with nine lives?
“Come on.” Soledad’s annoying voice breaks my train of thought. She pulls me through the dark restaurant and the aroma of sizzling meat, potatoes and herbs. The band on the small stage sings of unrequited love in a jazzy tune, and patrons toast each other and dine with gusto. Faces blur, and the music grows faint in my head.
The maître d’ opens a door at the end of a hall, and Soledad and I are in a private room with a cherry table, two new glasses and a bottle of Hibiki.
At the other end sits Harvey, his black suit hugging his powerful shoulders and draping down to the trim waist. His mahogany hair is slicked back to show a neat forehead with a faint hint of a horizontal wrinkle. He has pale amber eyes withheavy lids, nothing like Mom’s. He took after his father and got the narrow, straight nose and thin lips.
Two beefy bald men stand to each side behind him. Probably his right and left hands. They look like crosses between a human and a pit bull.
Great.So Soledad is in cahoots with Harvey. Figures. She’s too stupid to know you don’t get involved with a mob boss’s heir.
