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I’m growing hoarse when he tells me to cum for the trillionth time. Then Santino catches my mouth as his hips move violently over me. He chases my moans with his tongue, eliciting another hard orgasm inside of me. Santino settles deep, rocking in my depths. I’ll have to tell myself this isn’t love a thousand times over in my mind, as I completely surrender to him tonight.
Let it Snow . . . Somewhere else. (It’s only August)
* * *
14
Gina
I'm swiveling around in my chair; while, at the same time, grinding my teeth. At age ten, my last cavity was removed; I learned my lesson then too. But today, I’m about to grind my teeth into dust as I glare at Gabriella’s husband. Today, Steven has no right to call himself my brother-in-law. I’m glowering between his two eyes, imagining a bullet sinking between those dummy-headed eyes of his.
Well, I’ve overworked that angle today, and my neck is aching. So, I continue to look straight through Steven as he smiles and says, “Gina was in charge of that.”
My father regards me with disappointed dark eyes, at the same time rubbing his silver goatee.
“Da—Mr. Galloway.” I swallow my pride and decide against the use of familial greetings under the circumstances of ten pairs of eyes. “I spoke with Mr. Muston about the account. I had it in the bag. It was Steven who suggested that heseal the deal,since he was just promoted. ”
“Stop talking,sweetie.” My father tosses out the term he uses with secretaries, clerks, and female failures. “What is our first rule about accountability?”
Although I give the routine response like Dad taught me, I imagine following through with my usual hellcat response. Something more blasé like, “I’m hungry.”
Let’s presume that the power trip my father is on would inflate. The air in the room shifts as ten shocked eyes dart toward me for the offhanded response. I groan, only to feel the vibration traveling throughout my body, down through my squared shoulders. “I’m starving. Like eating pasta in Sicily starving.”
“Gina?” My father’s light brown skin flushes.
“I’m craving a huge hunk ofburrata,” I moan. The word means butter in Italian. Burrata is an artesian cheese hailing from the south of Italy. “Do you like cheese, Bob?”
I’ve always wanted to ask Bob a question. He blubbers and sputters on his words when Dad is angry. He’s a good target. Like me. Like a woman to an alpha male.
“Do you know what burrata is,Bob?” I ask.
The entire team of big kahunas stare at him.
“It’s a delicious cheese you would die for,Bob.” By now, I’m getting my kicks from uttering his name.And people call me the she-bitch.Here I am attempting to be nice, and he hasn’t responded to me at all.
Dad snarls, “We all know what the cheese is, Geraldine!”
My eyes flash to my father. “Why did you call me that, Dad?”
“I-I . . .”
“Because she escaped the monotony. I’ll meet Geraldine in Italy this weekend, with this one guy I’m seeing.” I address the entire team. “As I’m sure you’re all aware, my oldest sister had a ‘How Stella Got Her Groove Back’ situation with a Jamaican. Everyone looks down on their relationship—but Zane’s only two, maybe three, years younger than her. He’s tall, dark, gorgeous! And she left this fucking place because women are to blame for every fucking thing. Goodbye,assholes.”
There. I said it. No, not all the other stuff. My favorite word for the male species: Assholes.
(Okay, let’s pretend this page or so of nonsense didn’t occur. I’d lowered my gaze after my father’s quick reprimand. I said nothing and my comparison to Geraldine is still unresolved resentment. I love my sister dearly, support her lifestyle, and Dad’s treatment of women in the workplace was not challenged.)
A while later, the board meeting adjourns with me as the failure, and everyone files out. Dad heads over, stops the swiveling of my chair that I’ve done this entire time.
“Dad, you agreed with Steven assuming more work. I asked you to confirm specifically about Steven acquiring Mr. Matson’s contract. I asked right before the Fourth, but I remember as if it were yesterday. I’d mentioned how I’ve cultivated a relationship with him for years. Ihighly suggestedSteven accept another account.”
“I know, sweetheart.” Dad sits at the edge of the table. Alright, he hadn’t accidentally called me Geraldine. My sister has been beneath his wing for years while I learned to play the violin as a little girl. Geraldine is nine years older than me. He’d committed most of his time to her that there was no time left for me. I had to learn it all on my own. The desire to follow in his footsteps came from Dad’s indifference.
He pats my shoulders. “Be a team player, Gina. Steven and Gabby have just started their new life together.”
“They’ve been married for years, Dad.”
“Just a few. How can I justify Steven’s promotions if nothing is required of him, sweetie?”
