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This is fucked.
Completely ruined.
Tonight, the only friend of mine is the rest of this bottle of Jameson.
Cheers to us.
Madison
I left his house in a storm of emotion. Like I was crazy-angry drunk.
I get into my car and start sobbing. Maybe that sounds pathetic. Too feminine. Whatever.
It’s Rocco…
I just feel so weighed down by everything in my life. First, my father dies. Next, Byron takes the throne over me. I’ll never understand how that came to be, but my father wasn’t exactly a saint either.
I have been forced out of any major decision. I’m still technically on the board, but the recommendation is that I sit out every single meeting.
Nothing in life is fair. So be it.
Dasha understands. She’s been dealt some blows in her time.
“I don’t know what happened,” I cry. “I just blew up on him. Everything I had planned to say came out so wrong. I’m hopeless, Dasha. I feel like I’m standing on my last leg.”
“You’re allowed to break down every now and then,” she says, rubbing my shoulder. “Things are really crazy for you right now. If I was you, I’d probably be dealing with it much worse.”
“I don’t seem to have a handle on much of anything. I’m a total wreck. I’m sorry to put this all on you. You’re a really good friend, Dasha,” I say.
“I’m happy to be here for you,” she says. “Anytime. Always. Forever. Got it?”
“Got it,” I whisper.
“I have an idea,” she says. “Let me take you somewhere fun. I’ve got a sitter coming for Holly soon. We should have a girls’ night out. We haven’t done that in such a long time.”
“I don’t know. I think I might just go home and cry the rest of the night,” I say. “I’m feeling a bit emotional.”
“Oh, don’t give me that crap. You’re going out with me tonight. You’re going to forget all about Rocco and Byron, and the whole Napolitano curse. We’re going to have fun, girl!” she exclaims.
She’s way too peppy for me right now. I fake a smile and say, “Fine. But I’m only agreeing to this because I know you won’t back down,” I say. “And what’s this about a Napolitano curse? I wasn’t aware that my family has a curse around it.”
“Are you kidding me? The Napolitanos are known for their bad luck. I’m sorry, but you know it’s true,” she says.
“Whatever. We used to own this city. I don’t know what happened,” I mutter under my breath.
She pulls open the front door. “Welcome to the modern world, honey. This isn’t Sicily. It’s Detroit, and it’s changing fast. Get with the times,” she says. “Come on. We’re going.”
“Fine,” I mutter.
She grabs my hand and practically pulls me out to the driveway. No time to change or do my makeup. We get into her car, and she speeds off into the distance.
Soon enough, we’re on the freeway, and she’s blasting some Top 40 pop music, screaming her lungs out to the song that’s playing.
“Sing it with me, girl!” she screams, holding an invisible mic out in front of my mouth.
Girl, I’m not in the mood.
I try and play along, but she knows I’m having a tough night. She reaches into her glove compartment and pulls out a big bottle of vodka.
