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My brothers never call me ‘doctor’ to show recognition for the hard work I had to put in during graduate school. When they call me ‘doctor,’ it’s to make fun of me for choosing a different career path than theirs.
“Iteachcollege girls, Luciano. I don’t hang out with them.” I’m not about to jeopardize my job when one of those girls gets too attached and reports me to Human Resources. It took me too many years to get my Ph.D. to blow it on a one-night stand.
Dante snickers and elbows Salvatore. “What are youjust teachingChristine then, eh?” He teases.
The corner of my jaw ticks as I clench my teeth, trying to contain the mountain of irritation I feel. Dante is an arrogant bastard whose opinions are like a disease: contagious and easily passed from him to the others. “Christine is,” I search for the right word, coming up short, “different.” Which still doesn’t explain why she’s so special and all the other eighteen-year-old girls in my Psychology 101 class aren’t.
“You call her what you want, Nic. Father always said if there’s grass on the field, play ball,” Salvatore grins. “I haven’t seen little Lucatello naked, but I bet the carpet matches the drapes. Eh, Nic?” He winks disrespectfully. “She got a ginger bush?”
Rage courses through my veins like hot magma, stirring up a hatred that permeates every thread of my being. I despise them. Every single one of them. From the moment I was born into this family, I’ve never belonged, and they’ve never let me forget it. I am an outsider, the son who never lived up to the family name.
“I thought you guys were going out,” I change the subject. If I don’t control my anger, I’ll do something we’ll all regret.
Dante, the oldest and the pride of the Terlizzi family, hops up on the kitchen counter and grabs an apple. He pops the red delicious between his lips and takes a bite. “We are. We just thought we’d extend an invitation for you to join us. We miss you when you’re away at college.”
His teasing gets the better of me, as it’s done since we were children, and I snap at him before I can stop myself. “And what’s Adalina going to say about you partying with nineteen-year-olds?” I narrow my eyes at him. “What’syour wifegoing to say about you taking body shots off a barely legal teenage girl?”
Dante’s relationship with Adalina has always differed from what I expect of my future bride; I never understood why he settled for marrying someone he hated. They were in love once, but something changed. We rarely see her, and when we do, she looks at her husband like she might gut him without remorse.
Dante hops off the counter and strolls across the room, stopping once he’s in front of me. With more force than necessary, he taps me on the cheek with an open hand. It’s a gesture of affection, but it stings. “Worry about yourself, Lolo,” he calls me by the disrespectful nickname my brothers came up with when we were kids. “Don’t stick your nose in my marriage unless you want me to give your relationship with yourstepdaughterthe same treatment.”
My brain rapidly fires off a dozen insults. I have every nasty thing under the sun to say about him. I know Dante’s greatest weaknesses and the struggles he holds close to his heart. If I wanted to, I could make him hurt.
“You coming out or not?” Luciano breaks the tension. The microwave dings, and he pulls out the popcorn, ripping into the bag immediately. “You used to love breaking in college virgins.”
Before I met Caterina, when I was in my twenties, and didn’t feel guilty about sleeping around with girls who put too much stock into a one-night stand, sure. I loved going out, getting drunk, and hitting on every girl I could find. It was a treat to be their first, to teach them what they should expect from a man. “Yeah,” I grumble. “But that was years ago. We’re too old for trolling college bars for freshman pussy.”
Salvatore snorts, flipping me the bird in the process. “Speak for yourself, Grandpa. There’s no such thing as being too old for freshman pussy.”
This isn’t an argument I’m going to win. The Terlizzi brothers are stubborn, all of them, including myself. But being a Terlizzi is like being popular. While it comes with the perks of strangers knowing your name and everyone wanting to be your friend, you’re constantly pressured into doing things you don’t want to do by people who will mercilessly bully you if you say no. I hate my brothers, and yet I seek constant validation from them.
“Whatever. I’ll come, I guess. I’m not doing anything, anyway.” I’ve been rebuffed by Christine, and I haven’t heard from her since she ran from my lecture hall a few days ago.
“You gonna go get ready?” Salvatore asks, raising an eyebrow. “Or are you going out wearing that?” He wrinkles his nose as he looks me up and down, judgment woven into the gesture.
I follow his line of sight, but I don’t understand his reaction. “Is there somethingwrongwith what I’m wearing?” Black slacks with a white, long-sleeved, button-down shirt. It’s what I wore to class today.
“You look like you a runaway groom,” Salvatore deadpans.
“And you look like an ape that’s escaped the zoo,” I fire back. “What of it?”
Dante rolls his eyes and holds his hands up to stop the bickering. “Just put on some shoes, and let’s go. I’m tired of hanging around this house. Why don’t you sell it?” He asks with a frown as he looks around at the dated style of the kitchen and the paintings hung in the dining room. “You haven’t changedanything since Caterina died. You could build a new home from what you’d make selling this one.”
But if I sold the Lucatello mansion, I’d lose the Lucatello daughter. She’d have no reason to see me if we didn’t call the same house our home. Christine might be avoiding me since our run-in on the first day of school, but losing her is a luxury I can’t afford. “I like it here. It’s cozy.”
“It’s a mausoleum,” Dante remarks. “It’s hardly fit for a Terlizzi.”
If his house is the gold standard for Terlizzis, I’ll pass. I don’t need a dungeon in the basement or an underground crypt for all my dead bodies. “I’ll keep that in mind. Can we go now?”
Chapter 5
Christine
Convincing Kaye to come out on Shark Night was not easy. She made plans to spend the weekend doing homework and getting ahead in her classes. She didn’t want to embrace the tradition of senior frat boys trying to hook up with freshman girls. Before she caved, I thought I was going to have to go to the bars by myself. Thankfully, persistence paid off; she agreed to come and slipped into a bright red dress I provided for her. It’s tight around her torso, accentuating her curves and full breasts, but falls loose around her waist.
“That looks better on you than it did on me,” I yell over the music as we stand in line outside of Red Dawg. Even on the street, we can hear the bass drum pounding through the walls.
Kaye tries to pull the hem of the dress down again, but it won’t stretch any further. “I wish it weren’t so red,” she complains. “I feel like everyone is staring at me.”
