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1
ESPIE
You know that moment when you’re slowly ticking up to the top of a rollercoaster? The anticipation, like the pulling of a rubber band building so intensely that you think you might just snap. There is no way off, no way around it, you’re staying for the entire ride, regardless of what you want because somehow you found yourself locked in a seat. Everything in you tenses so as not to feel the sickening drop of your body parting ways with your stomach as you fly down the other side of it.
Do you know what I mean? It’s good if you do because then you will know exactly what it’s like to be me.
Everything about my life has been chosen for me— where I go, how I talk, who I talk to, and what it’s meant to look like being the eldest daughter of the Sicilian mafia. But the one choice that has always been mine, promised to me by my family, is the choice of whom I will marry. Of course, it must be an eligible man— the eldest son of a powerful mafia family.
Everything I do affects our family because I bear the burden of representing the purity and power of our name. I think it was Shakespeare who said, “what’s in a name?” And I often find myself asking that question. Often enough that it keeps me up at night, wondering how my life could be so capricious that my family’s reputation is seemingly more valid than my own will. Even so, I’ve done what I’ve been told as long as I can remember. It’s my duty after all, and that one contingency of choice in exchange for my obedience, is what has made it worth it.
I’ve taken this one freedom, very seriously. In fact, I’ve had many suitors. Men who I’ve been set up with, eligible of course, but never good enough for me. Not that I think I’m better than everyone, don’t get me wrong, there. It’s just, if I have one chance to choose something for myself, I want to feel more than dutifully bound to someone. It should be something like in the books I read, where nothing can stop the characters from falling for one another and the weight of their love is stronger than gravity itself. That’s all I ask for.
I turn over on my side, and check the time. 3 am. If I don’t shut my brain off now, I’ll be in for a rude awakening when the sun rises and my younger sister Olive is back from college for good. Goodbye sleep, at least for a while when she’s around. We usually stay up talking, later than my mind already keeps me up.
I force my eyes shut and drift to sleep rather quickly. I don’t know how long I’m out for, but it feels like hours later when I’m jolted by a harsh whisper.
“Espie.” A light flashes in my eyes as they fly open. Vince is standing over me, urgency written across his expression. Peculiar.
“What’s going on?” I rub my eyes and squint past him to see a group of the boys, dressed in suits.
“We’re going somewhere. Get dressed.” I blink at him, not moving. “Now.” He pushes, tossing me an a-line, palm green, silky mid-length dress. Buttons down the center with slightly puffed long sleeves and a fitted bodice. It’s not really me; Looks very posh and delicate, like something a man would pull off the rack. I stiffen my nose at it, and he shakes his head.
“Espie, we have to hurry, or we’ll be late.” I look over at my clock on the nightstand. I was only asleep for twenty minutes. Where would we need to go in the middle of the night that I haven’t been told about? I shift my eyes back to him despondently and wave my hand for everyone to leave. With a sigh, Vince ushers the boys into the hall and I quickly slip out of my nightgown.
The air in my room is cold, but I know it’s only because it’s dark. Winters in LA never stay cold when the sun’s out, so that means this warm dress is not intended for daylight. At least there’s a chance I could be back before Olive gets home. I quickly pull the dress over my head and grab my boots by the door, slipping them on before reaching for my black coat off the couch at the end of my bed.
“Ready.” I say as I step into the hall, lifting my long hair outside my jacket. My stomach tenses at just how large the group of nicely dressed security is, waiting for me in a huddle. Vince motions for me to head down the stairs, and we follow the group of security straight out to the car.
I’m barely awake, trying to process the feelings in my body reacting to this odd string of events.
We take three full cars, that's how extensive the protective detail is. And I’m not dumb, that’s precisely what this is. I know the worry is setting in, carving out lines in my face that only appear when I’m displeased, but I can’t help it. I glance over at Vince, who’s too focused on his phone to notice. It’s the only light in the car, besides the occasional streetlamp on a road taking us away from the direction of the city.
“Where are we going, Vince?” He doesn’t look over at me. I tense my brows and turn my head back to the window as small droplets of water begin to race each other down it, shining in the moonlight as we speed forward. I don’t know how long has passed by the time we reach the edge of a small town. Looks like Santa Barbara, and I think it might be.
I’m helped out of the car before I can take in my surroundings, and then a circle of security leads me up to the doors of a tiny wooden building with a unique spiraling roof. It reminds me of a witch’s cabin, something sinister yet alluring about it.
Vince’s head bobs up the steps, and he pulls the door open. The boys make a gap for me and I step up next to him. Warm air swirls around us from inside, softening the harshness of the dampness clinging to every inch of my exposed skin.
“What is this?” I ask just as I turn my eyes to the incredible bookshop, answering my own question. It’s bigger looking on the inside than the out, and I figure it must go on for miles in only one direction. What a funny building it is. Magical. I want to go inside, but my stomach tenses again when Vince steps in first.
“I’ve reserved this bookstore for a few hours. You can pick any books you want. Just tell Sanders, and he’ll toss them into the duffle bag we brought.” Sanders steps up beside me with a lip-pressed grin— the kind of grin that you give someone you feel bad for.
My throat tightens. Vince is waiting for me to say something, but I don’t know what to say. It seems a little too good to be true— him supporting my arbitrary hobbies. We never make this big of a journey for these types of things anyhow, especially not at this time of night.
“What are you up to?” I ask and he doesn’t meet my eyes. If this entire situation didn’t make me nervous, that right there, just did. Vince can’t meet my eyes when he lies, he’s never been able to. As long as I can remember, he’s always given it to me straight because not many people would and because he knew what type of future awaited me. This isn’t how we work— him and me— so, I’m confused, shaking my head at him.
“You have twenty minutes to pick some things out.” He steps aside, and I have to ignore this horrible growing feeling like a dark shadow creeping up behind me because I want as many books as I can get. I begin my search, pulling them off the shelves without even reading what they’re about. I’m only in the fiction section. That’s all I’m after right now, anyway— an escape.
We’re fully absorbed in the center of the bookstore within minutes, and I’m knee-deep in the alternate dimension book section when the bell at the front door rings.
I give Sanders a look. “I thought we were the only ones here.” He offers me his hand in response and I hesitantly take it, walking with him, and the growing group of security boys, down through a maze of bookshelves. As we near the front, there are new voices interrupting the once quiet library. The clicking of a cane and the jingling of chains resounds as the talking continues. It’s more like murmurs of deep voices, and they buzz around us softly at first.
“Esperanza!” Vince calls as we get closer. That’s when the voices become more clear, and my annoyance is immediate. Not because of the widening pit in my stomach, but because Vince called me by my name.
I hate my name, always have; Hate when anyone calls me Esperanza instead of Espie. It’s usually done to pick on me, but Vince isn’t using a teasing tone.
This is serious, proper. Like the way he gets when we meet with suitors, all posh sounding and even-toned. But I wasn’t told about any suitors coming to visit me. I guess I should have seen something of this nature coming, what with his strange choice of outfit for me when I’m completely capable of dressing myself.
