SLICK

by Peavey Marshall

  Blurting out his deep-seated feelings like it was nothing but a high school crush unnerved him to no end. He could still see the way her shimmering grey eyes widened before it turned into a pale gloomy color. Callista had pushed him away in complete silence. Fuck. He had regretted it so much. He should have done better.

  And now, he had scared his best friend away. Maybe forever.

  Castor was waiting for Marcus, and the longer he waited, the harsher his thoughts were.

  He had ordered the capo to threaten Gallo's investors. Marcus Benedict's specialty was blackmail. His stocky build, burly arms, and the “'9“ height all earned him a dangerous disposition. Ever since Nicholas Luciano made him the capo for the arms industry, everyone had been wary. His name alone caused people to shiver in fear.

  The irritation of waiting continued to build up. "Are you okay, boss?" Dos muttered from the front seat.

  Castor ignored him. He set his eyes to the windows. A man fidgeted on the side of the street. His hands shook as he accepted a roll of money from a lithe, tanned girl.

  "What the hell?" Castor cussed, darting out from the car. He heard Dos' calling him, but he didn't stop.

  The girl saw him and scampered off while the man looked around in desperation. He caught sight of Castor from the other street and scrambled to run away.

  Luciano's heir was faster, seizing his arm. "Hey!"

  "Get off me!" He wrenched his arm, but Castor punched his stomach. The man doubled over as Dos' came huffing at them. Castor gestured his head to the narrow alley. "Chase the girl."

  Castor's grip on the man's arm tightened. His free hand searched his pockets. He yanked a plastic packet of white powder. "She sold you drugs?"

  He only grunted. Castor hit him again, slamming him against the wall. "Who is she?"

  The man coughed, shaking his head. "I-I don't know. I met her at a party, and... she set this meeting."

  "Do you know whose territory you are in?" Castor grated out. His fingers dig into the man's shoulder. "Do you?"

  When the man whimpered, Luciano's heir lost it. He released him, his knees buckling on the filthy street, and repeatedly kicked his head. The cracking sound and the thick blood should have made him stop. But he didn't.

  Castor gritted his teeth. His frustration over Callista spurred him on. He couldn't change what happened, but he could control this. A man's life was in his hands. He had complete dominance over him. It was exhilarating.

  "Cas!" A large hand pulled him back. Marcus' huge form cast a shadow over him. "What is happening?"

  "Nothing." His reply came fast. Castor shook Marcus' tight grip and trudged back to the car as Dos came rushing at them.

  The younger guy shook his head. Sweat glistened over his bronze skin. "Sorry. I lost her."

  "You lost a girl?" Castor roared, swiveling to him. His body fizzled in extreme fury, seizing Dos' shirt by the collar. "Who is this girl? How dare she sell drugs in my territory?"

  "I'll tell the guys to keep a lookout on her while you..." Marcus slapped his back. A force that sent him coughing. "Calm down."

  Castor released Dos. He shut his eyes, forcing the pain to subside. His green eyes met Marcus' nonchalant face. "Do you really have to do that?"

  "I'm not allowing you to act like a monster in broad daylight. We have class too, Castor." Marcus opened the car door and propelled Castor inside before following in. When they were settled, Dos didn't hesitate to step on the gas.

  Marcus pulled out a small notebook from his jacket. "Is this about Callista again?"

  Cas was in a shit mood. And talking about his feelings was the last thing he needed. His eyelids closed as he propped his pounding head against the window. "Shut up."

  "Everyone in the family knows what you feel for her. There's no need for shame," Marcus hummed.

  The teasing nuance on the older man's voice doubled Castor's chagrin. "I'm not ashamed."

  "You and her majesty have been together since middle school. How come you still haven't get her?" Marcus continued his tirade. He took a quick glance at Castor, noting his feigned disinterest. "Aren't you a Luciano?"

  "Is my family name supposed to make things easier for me?" Castor snapped, eyes narrowing into angry slits. Marcus was the sole capo that served his father and his grandfather before him. It was this fact that gave him the impertinence to speak brusquely to a higher-ranking person than him. "If yes, then you're wrong. Callista deserves better."

  Marcus' sniggered. "Think that way, and you'll surely lose her, boy." He bent forward as he spoke his next words. "Dos, stop here."

  He turned his attention to Cas again. "Go dye your hair. Your mother wants to see you.”

  Cas clicked his tongue. Seeing his mother in a despondent state was a big no. His father would kill him. This day was the worst.

  Castor got out of the car and straight into the salon. He was a VIP in Queens that he got the whole place to himself. His father had arranged everything, just to please his wife. In the Luciano family, Celeste Luciano was the queen.

  "Sir." A lady gestured for a chair that faced a mirror.

  He sat and opted to sleep. Hopefully, his mind would become clearer just in time to meet his wonderful mother.

  ~~~~

  "How come you are supporting White Sox?" Castor Luciano was left bewildered with his best friend's outfit. He wiped his wet hair, erasing the remnants of the blond dye on his dark locks. "You are from New York, Caly!"

  But the girl's attention wasn't on him. It was on the faded golden hue on his hair. Callista sat on his study table, her tapered legs on display. "Why do you always make your hair blond when you meet your mother?”

  "I haven't told you, have I?" A wry smile curled at his lips. Castor straightened his Yankees shirt before gaining the courage to face his best friend. "My mother wasn't the same after the fire.”

  He paused, sitting on the side of his bed. The black curtains casting a shadow on the room. "She hated seeing not her other son and me—the son who looked like her with her blonde hair and typical blue eyes. Since I looked like my father, she would always ask me to... have her hair. I guess she missed Apollo that much.”

  "But that's... unfair," she muttered softly. Callista jumped down from the table and took place next to him. "Are you okay?"

  Castor scoffed. He tried to smile, but his knuckles were turning white from where he gripped the bedsheets. "She really doesn't see me. Sometimes I think it's better if I was the one who died.”

  "No. Don't say that." Caly screeched before she attacked him in a hug. They fell on the bed, but her arms didn't let go. Her soft whisper came. "I'm glad you're alive."

  "You don't even support Yankees," he chuckled and brought them up to a sitting position. Castor embraced her closer, tucking his head on her shoulder.

  "I'm a Bulls fan. It just makes sense that I'll support White Sox." She returned his hug, her arms clasping around his neck. Callista bit her lip before she pulled back, meeting the boy's green eyes. "Can I... go to Queens too? I want to meet your mother too."

  Cas shook his head. "Not now, Caly." He brushed the strands of dark hair away from her face. "Maybe someday. I promise you'd be the first girl to meet her.”

  "Promise?" Her silver irises were wide in anticipation as she stared at him.

  "It's a promise."

  ***

  CHAPTER 13

  Surreal. It was the perfect word to fit her situation.

  Callista Genovese had never imagined having tea with Franco Castellano. Sure, they both belonged in the upper society, and Caly knew him as Castle's CEO. But aside from Castor's inherent hate for him, she knew nothing personal about the Castellano heir.

  Caly had remembered inviting him to sit with her at lunch when they were in high school. She had offered an olive branch, but he never took it. From then on, she considered Franco, a stranger.

  "Your clothes are almost dry." He sat in front of her, sipping at his Darjeeling tea. Dark blue eyes flicked over her form that Callista
clenched her teeth, pulling the large shirt down her thighs. Not that it helped because the Yankees jersey barely reached her knee.

  "Are you ogling me?" she snarled, sitting straight. Caly cussed her predicament. If only she didn't care about her reputation, she could've walked out in soaked clothes. If only people weren't scrutinizing her every move, she could've marched out in this stupid baseball jersey without them making assumptions whether she had sex with Franco or not.

  "What else is there to look at?" Franco smirked, lifting his eyes to her disgruntled face. His icy aura began to thaw after that incident in the bathroom, and Caly hated it. "I ordered food. Eat something before you go.”

  Callista loathed this new side to him. She could handle his coldness. Bantering with him was challenging and familiar. But the gentleness, she didn't know what to do with it. "It's okay. I can eat at home."

  "With Luciano?" he asked as his mask settled back to his face.

  Caly's heart squeezed in pain. "No."

  "Then why can't you eat with me? It's almost dinner." Franco continued sipping his tea. His eyebrows rose up. "Afraid?"

  She was being baited. She knew that. But the alternative was going home with Castor probably waiting for her. She couldn't face her best friend. Not now. "Fine. As long as you have dinner with us tomorrow.”

  "You really don't miss an opportunity, huh?" Franco didn't wait for her reply as he disappeared around the corner. He came back after a minute, tossing her dry Balmain sweater and jeans on her lap.

  Caly moved to stand up when he noticed Franco surveying her. "What?"

  The man ran his fingers through his blond hair, mussing it up in the process. "Ugh... you see..."

  Franco sounded unsure that Caly's forehead furrowed. "What?"

  He released a heavy sigh and tossed a small paper bag at her. "Here."

  "This is..." Callista's cheeks inflamed when she peeked at the contents of the bag. It was a Victoria Secret red lingerie set. She gaped at the man who was focusing on his tea again. "Are you serious?”

  Franco met her questioning gaze. The playfulness he exhibited earlier was gone, replaced by his imperturbable confidence. "What? You want to use wet underwear?”

  Caly opened her mouth to retort before settling on silence. She reeled around and slammed the bathroom door shut. She took deep breaths, hoping that the burn on her cheeks disappeared. Franco had a point. But the gesture was too sexy, too intimate. And the last thing she wanted with the Castellano heir was closeness.

  The girl walked out after a while; she glimpsed around, trying to avoid Franco. She hoped she could get away from him.

  "What are you doing?"

  Callista jumped in shock. She put a hand over her trembling heart, glowering at the man. "Damn it! I'm going now!"

  Franco clutched the crook of her elbow, jerking her back to his body. "No dinner with me, no dinner tomorrow.”

  Caly drew her arm away with vigor. The man had completely played her. "Fine!"

  She followed him to his kitchen island, where a variety of Chinese cuisine was placed. Her stomach rumbled at sight. Franco arched an eyebrow but kept his mouth shut. They began eating in silence, and Caly was thankful. But the glee was short-lived when Franco initiated the conversation.

  "So, why did you grimace at Luciano's name?"

  Just great.

  Caly shook her head. "That's none of your business."

  "Is it okay with him that you're with me?"

  Callista stabbed a piece of chicken with her fork. She pointed the utensil at the man. "I'm not with you."

  The astute smirk he gave her sent frissons of fright over the girl. He had no business knowing the relationship she had with Castor.

  Callista let out a deep breath and decided to play his game. If he was fishing out her secrets, then she'd sniff his secrets too. "Why do you hate Castor?"

  Franco leaned back. "He didn't tell you?"

  Fuck. She asked the wrong question. Caly grabbed her glass of water and took a huge gulp. "I want to hear it from you."

  "Is that so?" Franco scratched at his chin, looking thoughtful. "He killed my fianceé.”

  Callista stifled her gasp, but her fist tightened in distress. She had known that the Lucianos would do anything to protect their business and their clients. But Cas would never pull the trigger himself.

  "Why would he do that?" she asked with bated breath.

  The man shrugged nonchalantly, but the crack in his voice was apparent. "That's what I want to know."

  "Are you sure?" Callista inquired, her walls collapsing in worry.

  Franco narrowed his eyes, blue irises darkening. "You don't believe me? You think I would hate someone over high school squabbles.”

  "But that's—"

  "Don't say it's impossible because you know it isn't!" Franco's cool manner vanished as he yelled. He huffed, his veins bulging over his neck. He licked his lips, regaining some semblance of calm. "Do you really know your best friend, Callista?"

  Caly swallowed the knot in her throat. "Stop it."

  "Do you know how many persons he killed?”

  "I said, stop it!"

  Caly slammed her palms over the counter. The stool falling on the floor as she bolted upwards. Her grey eyes glimmered with frustration and fury. Nobody was allowed to talk about her best friend like that.

  "You like him that much?" Franco raised an eyebrow, disregarding her sudden outburst.

  "He's never done anything to hurt me."

  Franco scoffed as he stood up and walked towards Callista. Their space was reduced to a centimeter. "You are the person he fights for, his reason to live. For me, that person was Elena. And she's dead.”

  His arctic gaze seemed to flare up with the vehemence of his argument. "Now, I only have someone to fight against. And it's Castor Luciano."

  "Franco..."

  "No, Caly. Whether you like it or not, you're at the center of everything." Franco shook his head. He gripped Callista's wrist, that the girl flinched in pain. "One of these days, you need to choose a side."

  ***

  CHAPTER 14

  For Callista Genovese, dressing up was as easy as breathing. But tonight felt a little different. The air was dense. Goosebumps erupted over her tanned skin despite the closed windows.

  "Just say it," she said, adjusting the strap of her black dress.

  Castor rolled his eyes, taking a quaff from his cigarette. He had watched her all night without a word. Caly clasped the golden necklace around her neck, hoping it could lessen her aggravation. It didn't. She was nervous as hell. She had known Castor for a long time, but she had never been this scared of him.

  "Say it!" She whirled to face him.

  "Will it change things?" He put out his cigarette on the ashtray. His face remained grim. "He told you something, didn't he?"

  Caly dropped her hands to her sides. She cannot look at him. It had reached Castor's ears that she had spent the night at Franco's place. She should be angry because her privacy was broken, but Cas' disappointment was too much to bear. "No. It's not like that."

  Cas kicked off from the wall. His black suit a glaring disparity from the pearl wallpaper of the girl's room. His midnight hair was pushed back, revealing his piercing and the tattoos on his neck. He stood straight in front of her.

  He reached out a hand, and Caly flinched. Castor dropped his arm, and with a groggy voice, he spoke. "What'd he say?"

  Callista remained quiet. For the first time, she had doubts about whether she knew Castor at all. "Franco said..." she gulped, meeting his jade eyes. "You killed his... fianceé?”

  "What?" he spluttered, eyes wide. Cas clicked his tongue. "He still believes that?”