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Getting back in the car, I said nothing as Zander drove off. My clutch was practically empty now, and a part of me wanted to tell Zander to swing the car around so I could go back and get that cross, tuck it safely away just so I could have it forever. A reminder of my past, what I’d gone through.
But I didn’t need a reminder. My memories were more than enough, and what I was going to do in Cypress… participating in the Playground? Father Charlie would roll over in his grave if he knew. Joining a sex club and forcing myself to overcome my anxieties was the last thing a man of the cloth would want me to do, I knew.
“You all right?” Zander spoke, breaking the silence of the car.
“Yeah,” I whispered, pulling my eyes off the window and glancing at him. His green eyes were focused on the road, but every so often they flicked to me. “I’ll be fine.” And that, at least, was the truth. Because I would be. Everything was going to end up exactly as it should; I’d see to it.
“I take it you didn’t see Father Weirdo in there?”
Even though I didn’t feel like laughing, a chuckle escaped me anyway. Father Weirdo. Yeah, that sounded about right. “No, I didn’t see him. Just a few other people in the pews, praying.”
“I can’t imagine anyone wanting to go to him for anything,” Zander went on. “He rubs me the wrong way.”
Turning my upper body to face his, I asked, “You too?”
“Yeah, something about him ain’t right. Plus, he came up to me at that party and said some really weird things, so there’s that.” He glanced at me. “I think we’re better off without having him in our lives.”
“You’re probably right. What did he say?”
“Oh, you know. Just that everyone in this city—or maybe it was everybody in that room—is dangerous and you wearing white basically put a target on your back. He warned me to watch you closely.”
That time the laugh that left me was annoyed. “Why is it everyone thinks I can’t handle myself?” After what happened three years ago, I made sure to learn a lot. My father had always wanted me to be able to protect myself should the situation arise, but I’d really trained hard. Harder than ever. “I can take care of myself, no matter what you, my father, or that priest think.”
“Noted.” He grinned to himself. “I still am going to watch you, though. Call me crazy, but I think you’re used to hiding your wild side from your father and everyone else. Shall I bring up that night when we went to all those clubs? Oh, and who could forget the Play—”
“Okay, okay. Shut up.”
We were sitting at a red light. He glanced at me. “Why do you even need to go to that place, anyway? Is it because… because—” Whatever Zander was trying to say, he couldn’t. Almost as if he was embarrassed.
“Because what?”
“Because your father doesn’t want you to be, uh… because he wants you to be a—a—” He really couldn’t say it. His knuckles were white on the steering wheel. “A virgin for your future husband or something?” His cheeks were pinker than they usually were, and I found it kind of amusing.
Stupid, but funny.
“I’m not a virgin,” I stated it matter-of-factly, fighting the nauseous feeling in my gut. I didn’t like admitting it out loud, mostly due to the fact that it hadn’t been my choice. Anything that happened at the Playground, however, would be my choice. In that club, I wouldn’t be Giselle Santos; I would be Josefina Baez, just a girl in a mask.
The light had turned green, but Zander hadn’t gone anywhere. He was too busy staring at me, ignoring the world and the cars behind us, beeping up a storm. “You’re not? I thought—who was it?”
“Why don’t you focus on the road instead of who has gotten between my legs, hmm?” I snapped, and he realized finally the light had changed. His foot came down on the gas pedal a bit too hard, and the whole car lurched forward as it started to go.
Thinking I was still a virgin. Stupid and totally naive. Me being a virgin didn’t matter; the only thing that would matter to my future husband was my last name, my bloodline. And if my father got himself that position on the Black Hand, I could only imagine whatever match I’d have would be for the betterment of both my father’s business and the Black Hand’s.
“I’m not a virgin, either,” Zander said. “Just throwing that out there.”
“Oh, good. Because I was wondering if we were on the same playing field here.”
He glanced at me, hope in his features. “Really?”
“No,” my answer came swiftly, obviously deflating him. I felt a little bad, but then again, why the hell should I care what Zander was? He was just another employee of my father’s, someone who would do whatever he said with no hesitation. He was my damned babysitter in Cypress.
But he was also kind of sweet, in a way that was just two rungs below overbearing. Kind of possessive. I was used to my father’s possessiveness, but it did feel different when it was someone else doing it.
We returned home. Another car sat in the driveway, one I didn’t recognize. I was the first out of the car, and I tossed Zander a look as I hurried inside. It wasn’t like I was worried about my father, but anytime a stranger showed up… it was never good.
I walked inside the house, immediately seeing someone I didn’t recognize: a big, burly man who held his arms folded across his chest. His head shaved short, he looked intimidating, to say the least. He reminded me of the bouncers at a few of the clubs I’d gone to, someone who didn’t take any shit. And, again, I had no idea who the hell he was.
I didn’t say anything to him; I walked right by him, following the voices I heard echoing in the large place. I found my father with another guy in the downstairs study. My father stood near the liquor cabinet in the corner of the room, having poured himself a glass. He must’ve given the guest his own glass earlier, for he held onto an empty glass. Always one to show off his particular brand of whiskey.
