AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I place my knee on the bed, plant my fists in front of me, and lean in to say, “I’ve been a certified killer since the age of thirteen. Going to a bar for a few drinks isn’t a problem.”
Star gives a little squeak of excitement and rushes around her room, throwing on a crop top and tight black jeans that almost make me regret taking her out in public. I grab a pair of jeans and another shirt from her brother’s closet and meet her on the landing.
We drive to the bar, which is still hopping on a Saturday night, and grab a table near the back. This bar is a little-known treasure, with a distinct vintage vibe. One wall, painted a crimson red, is occupied by a long bar made of dark wood and a dozen stools. The rest of the place looks like it was put together in a slapdash manner with old furniture and vintage pinball machines, but it’s clean and the drinks are solid.
Star takes a seat in the booth and looks surprised when I slide in beside her, but I’m not about to give her the opportunity to put any space between us. I drape my arm over the back of the seat, playing with a few golden tresses of her high ponytail as we wait for the waitress. When she swings by, I order a couple of beers and then turn my attention back to Star.
She shifts under my perusal, but I let her take in her surroundings. My kitten’s a curious one. Having run through every borough of this city since I was twelve years old, I sometimes forget just how shelteredmafiegirls are.
“The first time I came here was with Cristo after hitting up a store under our protection down the street,” I confide.
Those were back in the days before we solidified our power base exclusively in Queens. What I don’t tell her is that while he stopped by for a brew, I played the pinball machines with bloodied knuckles from our so-called “visit” to the store.
The waitress returns, plopping mugs of beer on the old-school, blue floral Formica tabletop of our booth. Liquid splashes over the top of the glasses and I glare up at her. She mumbles an apology before rushing away.
Star takes a dainty sip and wrinkles her nose. Guess Star isn’t a beer girl.
“Want me to get you something else?”
“No, no,” she rushes to say.
“You don’t seem to be enjoying it.”
“I have to get used to it. This is what American college students drink most, isn’t it?”
Shrugging my shoulders, I take a sip and decide to go with a more neutral topic, “So tell me more about your plans.”
“Why?” she asks suspiciously.
I twirl a lock of her hair around my index finger and tug it. “Because if I’m going to help you, then I deserve to know more about what you want to do once you’re so-called free.”
I don’t know that I deserve anything from her, but that’s the excuse I’m going with.
She raises a brow, but at least her gaze is back on me, where I like it. “So-called free, huh? I’m pretty sure it’s just regular human free.”
“And how do you see that playing out? When you’reregularfree, what will you do?”
Her face turns grave. “I want to go to college, obviously.”
As if the mention of college reminds her of her beer, Star picks up her mug and tries again. She grimaces, but my stubborn girl goes for another gulp and then a third.
“Obviously,” I reply, although I’m not going to lie, I’m surprised. If I were in her position, I’d sow my wild oats. At the very least, I figured she’d take advantage and travel the world. Hit the spots on her map or reunite with her brother.
“And then I’ll need to get a masters in fine arts, either in art history or curatorial studies. Columbia University and NYU both have great programs, but they’re too close for me to apply.”
She’s really thought this through. In fact, it seems like she’s researched it in depth.
My brows rise. “Too close?”
“I’m running away, remember? Can’t exactly do that and stay in the city for the six years it takes to complete undergrad and a graduate program.”
“How are you going to pay for this?” I blurt out because, although I’m willing to pay for her schooling no matter what the cost, she’s acting as if she can take care of it on her own.
“My brother set up a trust fund for me and my mother, which I’ve controlled since I turned eighteen.” Her stubborn chin raises an inch. “See, I can take care of myself.”
“I never doubted it,” I lie with a tweak of her ponytail.
Damn, I’d completely doubted it.
