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Carmine eyed him skeptically. “I’m listening.”
“I’ll give you the credit card back if you make more of an effort.”
“What, like keeping my room clean?”
“I said an effort, not a miracle. And what I mean is straighten yourself out. Stop the fighting, stop the drugs, pass your classes, and when I ask for a favor, I want you to actually do it.”
“Fair enough,” Carmine said, grabbing the credit card before his father could change his mind. “I’ll make an effort.”
“Great, because I need a favor.”
Carmine stared at him, not at all surprised.
“We need groceries,” Vincent said. “Enough stuff to last a while.”
“Like food and shit?”
“Just food, Carmine. But yes.”
“And you want me to get these groceries? On my own?”
“Of course not,” Vincent said. “Since you’re so concerned, take the girl with you.”
Carmine looked between his father and the credit card. “Is this a test? Because not two goddamn hours ago you said I was still cut off.”
“Things change, son.”
“What changed?”
Vincent shook his head—evading again. “You want a chance to prove yourself? Do it. But don’t screw up this time, Carmine. If something happens to the girl, there will be more dire consequences than being cut off financially.”
Carmine stood up, figuring he needed to leave the room before his father came to his senses. “Does this mean I’m no longer grounded?”
Vincent sighed. “You’ve been grounded since you were thirteen, and you’ll continue to be grounded for as long as you live under my roof. Not that being grounded has ever stopped you before . . .”
“So basically, I’m not really grounded.”
“Were you ever?”
Carmine laughed. “No.”
13
Sunny Oaks Manor, located in the Hyde Park neighborhood of Chicago, looked like an upper-class apartment complex. The only thing that gave away its true nature was the staff, wearing the typical medical scrubs. Everyone was friendly, the facilities modern, but none of that mattered to Gia DeMarco.
Vincent had done everything in his power to make her comfortable, insuring she had the biggest apartment and as many luxuries as allowed, but she held resentment that she’d been forced to move. Sunny Oaks wasn’t her home, she’d told him, and as far as she was concerned, it never would be.
Gia sat in her chair at the window in her front room, dressed impeccably in a blue dress and black pumps as she gazed out at the courtyard. Vincent perched on the arm of the chair across from his mother, not surprised in the least when she refused to greet him. Same story, different day.
“It’s nice outside,” he said, attempting conversation. “We could go for a walk.”
“I haven’t seen you in months, Vincenzo,” Gia said, her voice venomous. “Months.”
Vincent sighed. “It’s been three weeks.”
“Three months, three weeks,” she said. “May as well have been three years. You don’t care.”
“I do care, but I don’t live in Chicago anymore, remember?”
