I step away, grabbing my sweats and a T-shirt from the pile of discarded clothes in the corner. Mia makes herself comfortable at my vanity as I change behind the folding screen.
She tries again. “He’s dangerous.”
“How dangerous can a club owner really be?”
“I’m serious, Cas. You think I’d ever be able to face your mother again if I let you run off with someone who could get you killed?”
I physically reel at this information. “What are you talking about?”
“This place? TheTiny Ballroom, Electrix, Adelaide Bar,what do they all have in common?”
I rack my memory for any tidbit of information I can recall. “They’re all high-end entertainment establishments?”
“Owned by Rocco Moretti.”
“So he’s into real estate?”
“Cas,” she groans in frustration. “An Italian billionaire with a vested interest in laundering money through clubs in Brooklyn?”
“I feel like you’re encouraging me to stereotype.”
“He’s mafia, Cas.”
“And my rocket ship is waiting outside to take me to the moon.”
I step back into the dressing room just as Mia throws her hands up into the air. “I’m trying to warn you.”
“And I’m telling you I appreciate your concern, but I can handle myself.”
But despite my words, my mind begins to spin, grasping at anything from our conversation today that could prove Mia’s theory to be true.
“I’ve known Rocco a long time. I know he seems approachable, charming even. But there are parts of him that he will never share with you. Parts that are too dark for you to ever dream of fixing.”
“I’m not trying to fix him.”
“Then what are you doing with him?” Mia snaps at me. “Because despite my best efforts, you still have that asshole of a boyfriend breathing down your neck every ten seconds.”
Exhaustion washes over me at her words. It’s so late, and work will already be hell tomorrow if I have to face Danny and Teresa again. “I’m tired, okay? Can we drop this?”
“I’m just trying to look out for you.”
I offer her a small, incredibly grateful smile. “I know.”
She returns it, and we both head back out into the club. It’s strange to see the space lit up and empty, like some kind of soulless shell, compared to how much life is usually crammed into every corner.
I wait by the door as Mia finishes locking up, and we both step out into the brisk night air.
Bracing myself for the long walk ahead, I shove my hands deep into the pockets of my leather jacket. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”
But when I turn back to wave, Mia is staring at me.
“How are you getting home?”
“It’s fine, Mia.”
“I thought you said you made tips yesterday.”
I shrug, not wanting to add more fuel to the fire that is the Cassandra-pity-party.
