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Dom’s mom rushes in unloading the supplies I need.
I hang back in the corner.
“I’m going to have to get the bullet out,” Geneva tells him.
“Is he going to be okay?” Mom asks.
“It’s just a shoulder wound. As long as I get the bullet quickly, I’ll be able to patch him up.”
Geneva works amazingly under pressure and patches my dad up. And I am impressed by how calm she was and how she let my mom know what she was doing at every step.
“What the hell happened here?” I look at my mom.
“Well, I had gone upstairs to get drinks, and the next thing I know, he’s shot. But from what I gather, the guys were being careless with their guns. And one went off.”
“And he’s a fucking dead man,” Carmine spews.
“Oh. It was an accident,” Mom tries to calm him down.
“You’re all set, dad. Try not to get shot anymore, okay?”
“I’ll try.”
“Let’s get you upstairs,” I suggest. When we reach the top of the stairs, Carmine’s friends come out from the kitchen, worried. “Boss, I’m so sorry,” Frederick tells him apologetically.
“I’m gonna fucking kill you.”
“You will not,” I argue. I look at Frederick and the rest of the guys. “It’s probably best if everyone leaves.”
“I’ll call you later,” Carmine’s right hand man Ricardo states.
With Carmine’s arm around my shoulder and the other around my mom’s, he allows us to assist him upstairs to their bedroom, where he can rest comfortably in bed.
“Okay, you have had enough fun for one night.” I try to make light of the situation. Geneva looks to my mom. “Just give him some Tylenol to ease the pain.”
We walk back downstairs after she assures Carmine, she’ll be right back.
“I’m sorry if I interrupted a date.”
“It wasn’t a date.” Geneva is quick on that reply.
“Well, thank you so much, Geneva.”
“I should go,” Geneva says. “I’m gonna call an Uber and get home. It’s late. Call me right away if you need me, Dom, has my number.”
Mom smiles and then reaches around to hug me. Geneva’s sweater is soaked with blood.
“Let me drive you,” I tell Geneva while Mom goes back upstairs.
“No. You’ve done enough for one night. I need to go.”
“What did I do? Is it because I had you come here and help my step dad?”
She throws her arms up. “You don’t get it, do you, Dom. You keep putting me in these situations where I could lose my license. And I refuse to keep doing this,” she points between us.
“Geneva.” I try to close the distance between us.
“Don’t. Just go back inside. Or get back in your fancy car and go to your fancy home.”
