But Sophie…she gives new meaning to the term Jewish guilt.
I think that’s why my father took Maria with him. He needed a buffer or someone to pour him a drink every time she threw on the waterworks and cried over her poor boy.
“Let’s just say she’s extra,” I tell Carrie. “She never cut the cord with Frankie and still coddles him. Once she finds out her baby is having a baby, she might lock herself in the bathroom or call the Rabbi.”
“Great, I’m starting to think we need all the prayers we can get. Maybe we can put out an S.O.S. for all the clergy,” she mumbles as she walks towards the living room.
I give into the smile and follow her. She takes a seat on the sofa and I make a beeline for the kitchen, grabbing two bottles of water. When I open the fridge, my eyeballs nearly pop out of their sockets. Apparently, Maria didn’t just come bearing clothes for Carrie and she fully stocked the fridge as well.
I know cold cuts and fresh mozzarella are off the menu when you’re pregnant from hanging out with Lacey all these months, so I bypass the pepperoni and peek inside the cabinets—also freshly stocked.
Stepmom number three might be my favorite.
Grabbing a box of Teddy Grahams, I head back into the living room. I make a mental note to grab some saltines when I’m out and drop one of the bottles on the coffee table, along with the box of crackers. I take a seat in the armchair and Carrie reaches for the bottle of water, smirking slightly as she tips it towards me.
“Just drink it,” I growl, knowing a smart remark sits on the tip of her tongue.
“Okay, but you know if the motorcycle thing falls through you are a shoo-in as a water boy, right?”
“Noted.”
I watch as she leans back against the cushions and unscrews the cap on her water bottle. I realize she hasn’t appeared this comfortable since she showed up here, announcing she had no place to go and I prefer this side of my new houseguest. Maybe having her and Frankie here won’t be so awful after all. At least with them around, I won’t be able to get into any more trouble with the club or make more of a fool out of myself where Lacey is concerned.
“Okay, so you wanted to clear the air. I’m all ears, but I should warn you I’m starting to feel queasy so skip the boring parts of your torrid love affair and get straight to the juicy details.”
“Sharpshooter,” I mutter.
“What?”
“You,” I clarify, tipping my chin towards her before taking a gulp of water. Lowering the bottle from my mouth, I tighten the cap and cock my head to the side as I stare at her, realizing she’s not this mouthy with Frankie. “When you let your guard down, you’re a bit outspoken. That a new development or do I bring out the best in you?”
She doesn’t reply at first, then points a finger towards me.
“You’re stalling.”
Maybe.
But perhaps I don’t mind the banter between me and her either.
Sighing, I lean forward and set the bottle of water on the table between us.
“Fine, I didn’t just fall in love with Blackie’s wife, that’s not how it happened,” I begin, lifting my eyes to Carrie as she opens the box of Teddy Grahams. She settles into the couch again and pulls a handful of crackers out of the box.
“Go on,” she encourages, giving me her undivided attention as she stuffs her face.
“I’ve known Lacey my whole life, we grew up together while our dads climbed the ranks of the club. By the time I realized I had feelings for her, her dad had become the president, making her completely off limits.”
“If she was off limits how did this Blackie guy wind up marrying her?”
I laugh bitterly.
“Some guys walk the line, others obliterate it. Blackie didn’t give a fuck about the rules. He was down and out, on his ass, mourning his first wife and getting high any chance he could. When he got a taste of something as sweet and pure as Lacey, he wasn’t giving it up. The fucked up thing is, at the time he was Jack’s VP, which meant he was high up there and the man Jack trusted most and he didn’t catch any shit for snatching his little girl right from under his eyes. Had I done that? Made a move on her? I wouldn’t be a prospect. Uncle Jack would’ve kicked my ass and that would’ve been the end of me.”
“So they got married…”
“Yeah, with Jack’s blessing and I stayed away. At the time, I wasn’t involved with the club. Mainly because my old man wanted to keep me out of it. Then things happened, I got shot and Uncle Jack vouched for me.”
“Is that why you were in the hospital a while back?” she asks mid-crunch.
“You knew I was in the hospital?”
“Yeah, Frankie had mentioned it, but he never told me why. I just thought you were sick or something.”
“He and Enzo found me, bleeding out in the hallway,” I say, looking towards the exact spot I laid half dead with a bullet inside my chest. After a beat, I shake the memory from my head and look back to Carrie.
“Where were you shot?”
Lifting a hand to my tee, I touch the spot above my left pec where a nasty scar remains.
“Anyway, after that, I became a prospect and one of my wonderful jobs was watching out for Jack’s family.”
“I’m guessing since Lacey is his daughter, that included her.”
“Yeah,” I confirm, glancing away. “At first it was no big deal. I told myself she was just some crush I had when I was a kid, that I was over her. But then Blackie went away, and I went from guarding Jack, his wife, and his son, to solely guarding Lacey. Her heart broke for her husband and my heart didn’t give a fuck. Every day I fell deeper, and I thought I was doing a good job of keeping my feelings under lock and key…”
“Does she know?”
I laugh again, but there’s no humor. It’s a knee-jerk reaction.
“Lacey can’t see anything but Blackie. She’s pregnant, struggling with her mental health while her husband is in rehab and still, all she can see is him. The night I met you, I had taken her to see him and it finally hit me. It doesn’t matter what he does, how many times he fucks up, she’s only got eyes for him. Part of me thought I could pick up the pieces, help her out and make her see there’s more to love than heartbreak. It was stupid. Anyway, that’s why I was there that night. Like I told you before, I didn’t want to die. I just didn’t want to hurt anymore.”
“Are you still hurting?”
My gaze moves back to her and I think about the question, wondering if she’ll think less of me if I answer honestly. Who am I kidding? The girl already thinks I’m a fucking moron.
“A little bit, but I’m staying away. You know out of sight, out of mind.”
“Yeah, but how’s that working? Doesn’t she call you or wonder why you’re not around?”
I’ve avoided Lacey’s calls a few times and then I felt guilty about it, so I showed up at her house with ice cream and told her my responsibilities shifted and I wouldn’t be around much. I don’t know what kind of reaction I was hoping for, but when she didn’t have much of a reaction at all, that was the final nail in the coffin. The feelings I had for her were only one-sided, there was no hope.
“She knows I’ve got other things to worry about,” I say to Carrie.
“Hmm…”
“So that’s the story. Riggs has already handed me my ass for feeling any kind of way about Lacey, and the fewer people who know the better. If my father found out—”
“He’d beat your ass,” she teases.
“Yeah, probably,” I agree, swiping a hand over my face.
“Your secret is safe with me,” she says, and I lift my eyes back to hers once more. “Under one condition…that is.”
“Oh, yeah, what’s that?”
“Give me your phone.”
Wearily, I narrow my gaze. I may have just poured my heart out to her, but this trust thing is new. It needs time to grow. To build.
She rolls her eyes.
“I’m not going to call my dad.”
That, I believe.
“You really care about him, huh?” I ask.
Considering my question, she bites the inside of her cheek.
“Frankie is the best thing in my life. I don’t just care about him, I love him…” her voice trails as she looks down at her hands. “I know people don’t think we’re going to last. They say we’re too young, that we couldn’t possibly know what love is, but love is a rhythm between two hearts and it only exists if they’re both beating. Our hearts are beating together,” she says softly. “And when everything feels hopeless, I think of that. I lay my head against his chest and listen for the rhythm.”
“You’re quite the romantic for seventeen.”
“Yeah, well, when your dad leaves you alone most of the time, you pick up hobbies. Mine includes romance novels.”
“Romance novels?”
“Yes, don’t knock it until you try it Water Fairy. Now, give me your phone.”
Sighing, I lift my hips off the chair and pull my phone out from my back pocket.
“Passcode is zero, three, eight, four,” I tell her, handing it towards her. She raises her eyebrows and plucks the phone out of my hand.
“Ohh, Mr. Guarded is giving me his passcode…I feel like we’ve turned a corner in our love-hate relationship.”
“Ha,” I mutter. “I’m changing it as soon as you give it back to me.”
She doesn’t respond, instead, she starts swiping and punching her fingers against the screen. Without looking at me, she asks, “What’s your apple password.”
“I’m not giving you that.”
“It’s a free app!”
“What are you doing?”
“Just give me your password. You can change that too.”
“Fine,” I grunt. I’ll probably regret it, but there isn’t much I don’t regret these days. “Anna-Capital B- twelve, twenty-three.”
Carrie lifts her eyes to mine.
“Do I dare ask who Anna is?”
“My great-grandma. My dad still carries her rosaries with him in his back pocket. For so long as I can remember, he’s drummed it into our heads that she’s our guardian angel, always looking out for us. According to him, she’s why I survived that bullet.” I shake my head. “It sounds ridiculous, but we all kinda believe it at this point.”
“You Scotto men are full of surprises.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing, just that you come off as a bunch of tough guys but then you tell me your dad prays to his grandma’s rosary and you have her name as your apple password…it’s kind of endearing and totally not expected from a bunch of handsy bikers who love to hit one another upside the head,” she pauses, cocking her head to the side. “Cute guy who loves his great-grandma seeking single woman.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“It’s catchy, no?”
“Carrie…”
“Smile!”
Before I can reach over and snatch the phone from her hands, she takes the picture. I’m sure it’s awful, seeing as I didn’t even get a chance to give her the look. You know the one I’m talking about, when guys look into the camera with mysterious eyes and subtly lick their lips, hoping it drives all the females wild—that look.
“Carrie, give me the fucking phone.”
“Almost done,” she says as she continues to fiddle with the phone for a few more seconds. She finally lifts her head, and a smile breaks out across her face. It fucking stops me in my tracks and makes me forget everything…it’s that fucking brilliant. Again, I forget she’s my brother’s girlfriend. In this moment, she’s just Carrie with the green eyes, breathing life into my dead world.
“There,” she announces. “You just have to add a few things and maybe tweak your desires. I went off the last book boyfriend I read about.”
“My desires,” I repeat, blinking slowly. “What the fuck did you do?”
Quickly I snatch the phone and glance down at the screen. Sure enough, the picture staring back at me is horrible. I look like a mass murderer, not a “cute guy who loves his great grandma”.
“What the fuck is this?”
“It’s my way of accepting your offer of a truce. You’re welcome.”
“This is a dating app,” I growl, glaring at her.
“Love is only a swipe away!”
Before I can demand that she delete the thing, the front door opens and my dad steps into the house with Maria on his heels, both wearing solemn expressions. His eyes go directly to Carrie’s and that brilliant smile she was wearing only a moment ago, falters.
“What’s wrong? Where’s Frankie?”
-Six-
Carina
A couple of years ago there was this video all over Facebook about some artist I had never heard of, Alanis Morissette. She was doing one of those late-night talk shows and I accidentally hit play. I learned she had produced a song called Ironic back in the day and the reason for her being on the show was that she had rewritten the lyrics to change with the times. I listened to the song and then I downloaded the original. Soon, it was added to my playlist and one of the songs I often played when I felt life was beating me down.
I’m seriously thinking about reaching out to Ms. Morissette. The note would go something like this,
Dear Ms. Morissette,
You don’t know me, but I might have some new material for you. If you should decide to take me up on my offer, we can collaborate on your next hit. We can title the song, Ironic Take Two. It’ll go platinum, I’m sure.
Sincerely,
Seventeen and Fucked.
Why the sudden urge to be a hit songwriter you ask? Well, things got worse for me and Frankie—if you could even believe that. One minute I’m sitting on the couch with his brother, feeling hopeful for the first time since my father kicked me to the curb, the next, I’m staring at Wolf, asking him where Frankie was.
The plan was for them to go to his mom’s house, tell her I was pregnant and then he was going to pack his bags and stay here with me. Shortly after the phone call with my father, Wolf and Frankie left to tell Sophie about my pregnancy. As soon as the door closed behind my boyfriend, an overwhelming sense of dread washed over me, but I got distracted by Nico and his attempt to make nice with me.
Wolf explained that there had been a change in plans, but he didn’t elaborate. Instead, he told me Frankie would be by in the morning to explain. Without another word he took Nico into the kitchen and left me with his wife. Maria, being Switzerland in this whole mess, tried to make light of whatever was going on and offered to help me put all those clothes she had bought me away.
I didn’t give a single shit about the clothes; I wanted to know where Frankie was and why everything was being kept a secret from me. Rather than give in to the outburst and seem ungrateful, I kept my impending meltdown at bay and followed Maria upstairs. Most of the bags contained clothes and toiletries, but she had also included a kindle loaded with pregnancy books which was thoughtful and a onesie for the baby that read “Grandpa’s Little Meatball”.
It was a nice gesture and while I was very appreciative, it felt weird taking things from someone I just met. This was more than just room and board and as Maria folded all the clothes and placed them in drawers, I realized the Scotto’s were basically supporting me and my baby for the foreseeable future and I didn’t know how I felt about that.
I wanted to talk to Frankie.
I wanted him to tell me it was going to be okay.
I needed his reassurance.
I depended on it.
Without him constantly in my ear, I feared I’d lose my will to believe we’d make it through the endless pile of shit stacked against us.
By the time we had all the clothes in a drawer, a knock sounded on the door and Wolf entered the room. I quietly pleaded with him to tell me whatever it was he was keeping from me, but instead, he ordered me to eat something and revealed an OBGYN and former trauma nurse named Celeste would be
coming by to examine me and that for the foreseeable future I’d be under her care. Apparently, she was married to one of the club guys. I didn’t argue and before he and Maria left, he assured me everything was going to work out.
I didn’t believe him.
Not this time.
Unsure what to do with myself, I climbed into bed and tried not to feel sorry for myself. I powered on the kindle, got lost in ‘What to Expect When You’re Expecting’ and dozed off. The next thing I remember is waking up to find Nico sitting on the foot of my bed eating a hero.
Yeah, a fucking hero.
The scent of balsamic vinegar wafted past my nose and I made a mad dash for the bathroom. While I threw my guts up, he apologized. Not for the vinegar, though. He was sorry he ate the sandwich he made for me.
He called the grilled chicken, roasted peppers and balsamic glaze hero a masterpiece.
The grandma loving guy could add chef to his Tinder profile too.
What a catch!
I wouldn’t realize it until later, but I needed Nico too. I needed him to distract me from whatever obstacle I was about to face, and he seemed to know that. I didn’t pester him to clue me in on what he knew. I let him act as my escape and after I washed up and the hero was long gone, digesting in his stomach, I let him lead me to the kitchen where he made me a sandwich—sans the vinegar.
After I ate, we browsed his potential matches. Nico shut down every possibility, claiming none of them were his type. If I was in a better mood, I might’ve teased him about it, but I just didn’t have it in me. I faked a yawn and told him I was calling it a night.
The sooner I fell asleep, the quicker morning would come and so would my answers.
Frankie was waiting downstairs for me when I woke and for the first time, he didn’t look happy to see me. In fact, he looked sick to his stomach. He handed me a banana and instead of telling him to shove it up his ass, I forced a smile, peeled the skin, and took a large bite as I tried to brace myself for the next blow. But how does one prepare themselves to hear their boyfriend, the guy who was supposed to stand by my side and see me through this clusterfuck of a pregnancy, was being sent away.
Walking The Line (Satan's Knights Prospect Trilogy Book 3) Page 7