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It was like the universe was always so eager to answer me. An all-black Maserati sport utility with tinted windows stopped in front of me. Umberto got out and handed me the keys.
My eyes narrowed on the diamond-encrusted license plate. Mrs. Big.
I squeezed the keys and tried to ignore Umberto’s grin as I climbed inside. It had a new-car smell, and everything was lit up like the cockpit of a jet.
That new-car smell. No smoke from the hood. Enough room for the boys and air conditioning.
I almost started to cry, but then I remembered who it came from.
This car came with emotional interest, and this was only the beginning. Every time I looked at my left hand, I was reminded of the shackle. Of what I owed him.
Basically, my life.
The ring glittered really pretty, though, against the black leather upholstery.
Dynamic’s parking lot was filled with employees’ cars, since the rush wouldn’t happen for another hour or two. It wouldn’t take long until it was overflowing. It was Dynamic night, and that meant we’d have shows that spanned decades. Hits from the 1960s onwards.
Georgia’s car stopped me before I went inside. It was as fancy as mine. Her license plate read PEACH. I twirled the ring around my finger for a second, then took it off and dropped it in the pocket of my Dynamic work shirt. I wasn’t ready for the questions or comments. I didn’t want to tell the truth, and I didn’t want to lie either. I had to figure all of this out before I kept it on that finger.
Vinny and Sam were sitting at a table eating when I walked in. The slight bit of sun left lit their faces as the door closed. Vinny kept it on the dark side for ambience, he’d said. I thought he just didn’t want an outrageous light bill.
“There’s the little jail bird.” He lifted his beer to me. “How’s it feel to be free and back inside of this palace?”
“Don’t flatter yourself, Vinny. I was looking forward to three hots and a cot. The food, I’m sure, is so much better.” On that, I was just messing with him. The food at Dynamic was amazing.
Sam grinned and shook his head. Vinny told me to earn my keep, then shoveled more pasta in his mouth.
“Hey, Vinny?”
He looked up.
“Thanks for bailing me out.”
“Yeah. Yeah.”
I grinned as I opened the door to the back of the place. Girls were moving all over, preparing for the shows. Some of them sang. Some danced. And even though none of us were living the big time we had hoped for, we had damn good shows.
“Hi, Leo!” Penelope (aka Peter) looked up from painting her nails. She narrowed her eyes. “What happened to your face?”
“What about it?” I looked in the nearest mirror and made a show of searching it. I didn’t want to have to retell the story. “Oh. I must have had a heavy hand with the bronzer. Good thing it’s dark.”
“You want me to fix it?”
“Nah. It’s good enough.”
She smiled and went back to painting. She looked up as the new girl, Raquel Barcelona, who we all called Rocky, took a seat next to her. She was fixing her hair.
“So…” Penelope nudged her. “What do you say? Are you in?”
“I don’t—”
“It’ll be fun. Domenico Casino is going to be singing and everything!”
“Domenico Casino…? Oh, he’s in that group…the one where they have an older vibe but to a newer beat, right? Sort of like a new-age Rat Pack?”
“Yeah! They’re all so fine.” Penelope rubbed her arms and shivered. “I swear, you’ve never seen anything like it. Tell her, Leo.”
“Tell her what?”
