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A beat of silence stretches between us before he stubs out his cigar and nudges his head out the door. “Guess we’ll find out.”
An old church stands at the top of a hill where thick green grass grows against it. It’s all withered white wood and cracked paint, but I know why he’s taking me here.
Well, I have my guesses. I’ve come to realize Victor is about as consistent and reliable as mob bosses go.
I push my door open and stand from the back seat, closing it behind me and watching as another car pulls up beside ours.
Victor points to the city limo with the fingers that hold his cigar. “You don’t know who I am, son…” He pauses right at the front of the car, before nudging his head toward the church. “But I’m about to show you, if you’ll accept my initiation.”
I know who he is to an extent. I’ve watched how they’ve walked around each other, and I’ve seen the Phoenix on the back of his hand. I knowexactlywho he is without knowing who he is. I don’t ask questions because he doesn’t.
“When you step through those church doors, everything you think you know about your life, about my life—is going to unravel. I’m going to show you things you’re not going to want to share, but let me tell you something.” He steps closer to me, hischest almost brushing against mine. I bring my eyes to his. “You won’t be walking back out of those doors alive if you don’t agree once you step through, so I’m giving you your chance right now, son.” He pauses, puffing on his cigar before turning his head. “Do you agree?”
I’ve made some pretty shit decisions in my past. Got Poppy and me into a heap of trouble among other dark shit.
This is different.
I nod. “Yeah, take me through.”
Following Victor up the stairs to the Gothic-style building, I pause when he widens the door, displaying a long dark corridor. Two men stand on either side of the door, both dressed in dark suits with shiny loafers on their feet.
Victor must sense my hesitation, because he turns to face me, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Ask me a question and I’ll answer honestly, but after you’ve asked your three questions, you step through these doors, Wicked, or you get carried out in a body bag, and I’m not talking about the kind the pigs carry you out in.” Victor La Rosa is mafia. His family is suits, guns, and high-end security, and his thick Italian accent is one you can’t ignore.
“Was it by accident you picked Poppy and me up?”
He rolls his lit cigar around his mouth, the wrinkle lines in his skin crinkling every time he does it. No doubt he was a good-looking man in his younger years, but time has not been kind to him. Money has, though, judging by his expensive suits, cologne, and the Cuban cigars he always has hanging off his fingers. That’s obviously leaving out the expensive mansion and cars too.
“Yes.” His eyes meet the young fuck from earlier. Ruby’s new soldier. Val. He comes back to me. “Next question.” He leans back slightly and the withered door creaks under his weight.
“You’re in the mafia…”
He studies me closely, and for the first time since he collected Poppy and me, I feel a wave of darkness hover over him and touch me. “I’m from Palermo, Sicily, son. Do you know what that means?” I don’t shake my head. He picks out tobacco from his tongue, flicking it onto the floor. “Means I don’t talk to anyone who isn’t a made man about my business, until he’s a made man.” I know he’s not going to continue, so I say the first thing that comes to my head.
“I’m not Italian. I can’t be a made man…”
His mouth curves upward as he presses the door farther open with one hand, gesturing inside with his other. “Actually, son, you are…”
It has been two weeks since I’ve seen my father, or Wicked, for that matter. It’s like he fucked me, licked me better, made me feel some type of way about him, and then left. I don’t want to ask my mom where he is because I never have before and I don’t want to make it obvious that I’m mainly asking for Wicked. I could use Poppy, but, well, everyone with a set of eyes can see she’s having the best time of her life without her brother hovering over her. Sometimes, Dad would be gone for weeks on end, even months. And like Poppy, it never bothered me because I had freedom when he wasn’t here… but this is different. I’m afraid.
Afraid because I know that when Wicked comes back, he won’t be the same boy who left. Because the dirty claws of my father will be well deep in his skin.
“So,” Poppy says, pushing herself off the edge of the pool and floating toward where I’m sitting on a floating bed. “How are youa virgin? You literally have hot guys around you all the time. At school, and at home.” I know she isn’t talking about her brother, but I still flinch. “Is it the wholedad being a mafia bossthing?”
I smile tensely at her. Sunrays burn my skin, so I cup water from the pool and spill it over my tanned belly. “I’ve just never been interested, and trust me, the guys around the houseare not hot.”
She turns her head to the side, pushing the glasses down the rim of her nose. The day Wicked and my dad left, my mom told me to take Poppy shopping. She had good taste. Different to mine with all her quirky, hippie-type patterns, but good. “What about him? Revio?”
I choke on a cough, reaching for my margarita that’s probably melted from the sun before leaning back in my sunbed. “No. Definitely not.”
“But he is who you are going to be with?”
I swallow the strong tequila. “Not if I have something to say about it.” Just as I finish the sentence, Revio saunters toward us, shoving his hand into his pocket and using his other to remove his glasses. He gets close enough to the pool to not get his loafers wet, before he kneels down and scoops up a cup of water playfully.
“Rubs, we have an event tonight. Papa’s orders.” My mouth slams closed. My heart races but not in the way that I like it to. In a perfect world, I won’t have to hold hands with Revio. It’s not that he does anything in particular to annoy me, I just don’t like him.
“What time?”
He flicks the water in his hand onto me. “I’ll pick you up at eight. It’s a charity gala for the homeless in the city.”
