Privilege (Renzo + Lucia Book 1)

by Bethany-Kris

  Lucia moved past the guys sitting on the steps, and replied, “It’s principessa, actually. If you want to insult me, at least do it right.”

  She was all too aware that she really shouldn’t be antagonizing people she didn’t even know from a hole in the ground, but they weren’t the only ones who had too much pride. She didn’t want to be insulted just because she looked like an easy target. No Marcello would stand for that, woman or not.

  Lucia entered the building and made sure not to look back at the guys she’d left behind. She didn’t want to give them the indication they bothered her or got under her skin. She figured that probably wouldn’t be to her benefit. Bullies, no matter what kind, were all the same at the end of the day. They only kept being pests because they believed they were getting somewhere.

  Soon, Lucia had climbed the three flights of stairs and opened the heavy metal door to the hallway belonging to a row of apartments. The first thing she saw when she opened the door was a woman passed out down the hallway.

  And by passed out, the woman was out.

  She didn’t know from what, but given the hallway smelled like cheap beer and the woman had an empty bottle of Colt 45 beside her, Lucia figured it was probably alcohol.

  It took Lucia entirely too long to realize the woman was passed out right in front of Renzo’s apartment. On the hallway floor.

  Great.

  She was careful not to touch the woman as she leaned over her to knock on the door, but that didn’t stop her from glancing down. Pale, and with a bit of vomit on the side of her mouth, the woman looked like a sore fucking sight.

  And it just made Lucia sad.

  Who was she?

  SIX

  Renzo was done with being on his feet for the day. Entirely fucking done. As much as he loved his combat boots, he was starting to think he needed to wear something else on his feet if he was going to be running all over the place. With his head down, and his hands shoved in his pockets, he wasn’t paying attention to what was down the block. He was intent on checking in with his guys, then getting home to drop off the bag of shit hanging over his shoulder, and then he could go pick up Diego from the chick a few apartment buildings down who had agreed to watch him for a couple of weeks.

  Renzo sighed, and dragged a hand out of his pocket to scrub down his face. God knew Diego would much rather go to the shelter daycare, but the idea of running into Lucia again put Renzo on edge. There was something about that woman that made his hackles rattle, and he felt like she was taunting him just by being alive.

  He knew it was irrational. It wasn’t her fault that their lives were entirely different. She hadn’t chosen to be born to the family and wealth she had been given, just like he hadn’t chosen to be born like he was.

  It didn’t matter.

  Renzo figured the easiest way to move on from all of that shit was to put as much distance between himself and Lucia as he possibly could. That, unfortunately for Diego, included the daycare. Although, how long this would last was anyone’s guess. The woman babysitting Diego this week could only do so because she had time. Next week might be a different story, and Renzo would either have to figure something else out, or take Diego back to the shelter daycare. Which would make the kid happy as hell.

  “You always lookin’ at the ground whenever you’re walkin’ somewhere, or what, shithead?”

  That fucking voice.

  Renzo reacted to that voice in such a visceral way, it was impossible for him to hide it. Like nails raking down a chalkboard, or a damn spike being driven right into his spine with as much force as possible. He got cold all over, and yet hot with anger at the same damn time. Stiffening like a board, and fisting his hands at his sides, he came to a stop as he lifted his head to find a familiar man leaning against the brick of a corner store. The same store Renzo used to meet up with his guys every morning before they headed out to work, and then again in the evenings when they had to check in.

  In fact, Perry, Noah, and Diesel were there waiting for Renzo now. Which only put him on a steeper edge as his gaze drifted between his guys down by the payphone, and his father who couldn’t have worse fucking timing.

  What was he even doing here?

  Renzo swore this asshole only showed up in his life when he wanted one of two things—to either remind Renzo of the shit he came from, or to get money. A habitual gambler, a drinker, and an all-around abuser, the man was absolute scum. He’d never taken care of the two children he’d helped create with Renzo’s mother, and he only caused chaos and problems whenever he did show up into their lives.

  It was like looking in a mirror as he regarded this man. Well, an older and shittier mirror, maybe. A disappointing, useless, cocksucker of a mirror.

  Dark hair that hadn’t been washed in a few days.

  Russet, bloodshot eyes.

  Defensive posture.

  Toothpick hanging out of the side of his mouth.

  “Son,” Charlie muttered around his toothpick. “Heard you’d be walkin’ past this way around this time. Thought we should chat.”

  Renzo’s jaw clenched, and ached from the force. “We don’t have anything to talk about. Pretty sure the last time we talked, you told me to fuck off, and stay there.”

  And all he asked for was a place for Rose to stay after she had a blowout fight with their mother. Charlie had laughed, told his son to fuck off, and then slammed the apartment door in Renzo’s face. That was after it took Ren a few days to track this asshole down because God knew where he was on a regular basis.

  Charlie shrugged, and tipped his head to the side to peer at the waiting guys. “That your crew, or …?”

  “That’s none of your business. What do you want?”

  Better to get his father on track, figure out what he could do to make the man go away, and be done with it. Renzo didn’t need Charlie’s brand of trouble, but especially not out on these streets where he worked.

  “Want to know what you’re up to,” Charlie returned, those dark, bloodshot eyes darting back to Renzo’s. “I can’t come around to check up on my son? Maybe I was thinkin’ about you, and wanted to see you.”

  That toothpick in his father’s mouth bounced with every word, and for some reason, the sight of it made Renzo’s blood boil. The man was so cool, calm and unbothered. Like he wasn’t standing there talking to one of the two kids he just fucking abandoned. Renzo had the strangest urge to take that toothpick, and stab it through his father’s eye just because he could and he bet it would feel damn good to do it, too.

  He wasn’t the kind for violence. He could be violent, when the time called for it. A lot of his business on the streets was violent, in some ways. That was how he stayed on top, but it was also how he made sure no one else fucked around with him.

  But he didn’t want to have to do any of that. He didn’t want to resort to breaking someone’s face just because he needed to survive. That was the thing, though—this was life for him. And yet, he found it was extremely easy for him to want to absolutely slaughter this man in front of him. Consequences be damned, they would be worth it.

  The only thing that held Renzo back was thoughts of his siblings. Rose would be screwed out of her private schooling, and Diego would likely go into the system the first time someone found him alone without their mother because she fucked off to get high again.

  “Listen, if you want to meet up or something,” Renzo started to say, “then let’s figure out a way to do that, but I am busy today. I have to go pick up Diego, and—”

  “How’s the little bastard, anyway?” his father asked.

  Renzo felt the pain in his chest at that question. It bloomed fast, and harsh. Entirely unforgiving as it wrapped around his heart to crush it like a dead weight that meant absolutely nothing.

  How flippant and cold Charlie could be whenever he decided to ask after little Diego. The only one of the three Zulla kids that didn’t belong to him, Charlie liked to make sure none of them forgot it whenever he did come around to show
his unwanted face. Usually, he just outright ignored Diego, which made the boy confused because even though Charlie wasn’t his dad, Carmen tried to say he was.

  They didn’t know who Diego’s father was.

  “Diego,” Renzo said lowly, “his name is Diego.”

  “Yeah, that one.”

  Renzo clenched his fists so tightly at his sides, that his fingernails cut into his palms. It was only that little shock of pain that kept him from flying across the sidewalk to break his knuckles on his father’s face.

  “Hey, Ren?”

  The call of his name drew his attention to the payphone again, and his guys loitering there. He tipped his chin as a silent greeting and acknowledgment which Perry returned.

  “Head out, yeah?” Ren called back. “We’ll meet up tomorrow instead. Shit came up.”

  Clearly.

  The guys nodded, grabbed their backpacks from the ground, and headed down the street. Although, not without looking back a couple of times. Renzo really didn’t need people thinking he had problems—personal or otherwise. That was not the image he wanted to project when he came out onto these streets to work.

  People saw weakness, and they exploited it.

  That’s just how it worked.

  “So, what do—”

  Renzo swung back to his father before the man could even finish his sentence. “What in the fuck do you want?”

  Charlie’s gaze widened momentarily before he smirked a bit. Maybe even appreciatively.

  Renzo didn’t care. He was done with this man, and playing whatever games Charlie wanted to play. He had better shit to be doing, and more important people to take care of—simple as that.

  “Your mother, actually,” Charlie mumbled around the toothpick.

  “What?”

  What the fuck would he want with Carmen? The two never spoke, and didn’t even hang around the same junkie circles. In a way, Renzo considered that a good thing because it was one less thing for him to worry about.

  Sort of.

  Charlie pulled the toothpick from between his lips, and flicked it to the ground as he looked at his son again. “Your mother—she owes people money, Ren.”

  Not that he didn’t already know for what, but he still asked, “What does she owe for, then?”

  “Probably for whatever shit she’s smoking or shooting into her body lately, but that’s not the point. They’re coming to me for it because they know at some point, I took care of her. They know she pushed out a couple of my kids, so they think I’m still …” His father gestured with one hand as if to wave at him, saying, “Coming around, looking after you all, if you get my drift.”

  “Too bad for them, then, I guess,” Renzo said, deciding he was done with the conversation. He turned on his heels, and started down the sidewalk again, leaving his father behind. “Good luck with that, Charlie.”

  Renzo probably shouldn’t have turned his back to the man—he likely wouldn’t have done that on any other day but today was just one of those. He was tired, not thinking right, and he had better shit to do than stand there and chat with an asshole like Charlie.

  It wasn’t like his father would try to lay a lickin’ on him or anything. Charlie stopped doing that when Renzo turned fifteen. He hit a fucking growth spurt, and broke his father’s face on a kitchen table after he showed up one day, slept on their couch, and then called Rose a slut for wearing a skirt he didn’t like.

  But the man might just be stupid enough to try.

  “Ren.”

  His father’s call was punctuated by footsteps a second before a hand landed hard to his shoulder. Fuck.

  Just having this man touch him—even if it wasn’t in a violent way—was enough to make Renzo’s rage spike as high as it could go. There was no one who made him want to go out and catch himself a felony like Charlie did every time his stupid face showed back up for one thing or another.

  Swinging around fast on the street, Renzo’s hands came up to shove against his father’s chest. Charlie hadn’t been expecting the move if the way he stumbled back a few steps in order to catch himself was any indication. Renzo took a bit of satisfaction in that fact.

  “You keep your fucking hands off me,” Renzo warned.

  Charlie sighed, and shook his head as he righted himself. “You got the viciousness of your mother, but all that anger is me, Ren.”

  “I’m nothing like you.”

  His father tipped his head to the side like he was considering those words. “That may be true enough, son.”

  “What do you need, huh?” Renzo asked. “How much cash is going to get you away from me for a while?”

  “It ain’t for me. You want to keep those lookin’ for your mother away from your little brother, and your sister, too, don’t you? Stop acting like a prick, Ren, and use your head. You know what you do when somebody owes you, yeah? Well, she owes somebody. I’m the first place they came to. Who do you think they’re coming to next?”

  Was this his father’s fucked up way of trying to take care of them in a roundabout way, or was this just another stunt of Charlie’s? That was the thing—it was damn near impossible to tell the difference.

  “How much?” Renzo demanded, his teeth clenched.

  “Right now, she’s two-Gs in the hole,” Charlie returned.

  Fuck.

  Renzo had it, sure. Stuffed away in a container he kept hidden in the apartment freezer. The only place his mother wouldn’t look because she couldn’t cook worth shit, and instead of consuming food, she just pumped drugs into her body. But that small bit of money was the only savings Renzo really had. It was his backup if something came up, or whatever. If he took two grand out of it, that wasn’t going to leave him very much left.

  “They’re not nice people,” his father added quieter, “a lot like the people who you work for, I’d say.”

  Renzo stiffened.

  That sealed the deal, really.

  “Fine. I’ve got it at the apartment. Keep the fuck up, Charlie.”

  That was all Renzo said before he turned around, and walked off. He made sure to keep a good ten strides between him and his father, though.

  He didn’t even want to share that man’s air.

  Renzo wished the couple of blocks it took to get to the apartment went by faster than it did. Instead, it felt like they crawled the entire way. All the while, his father chatted on behind him like Renzo was listening, or gave a damn.

  Neither of which he was doing.

  Charlie closed the distance between them as Renzo climbed the entrance steps to the run-down apartment building. Maybe it was because of the people sitting on the steps that eyed Charlie, but not Renzo. Charlie hadn’t visited this particular apartment since Renzo started renting it, so no one who usually loitered around the front would recognize his face.

  New faces typically meant trouble around here.

  “Yo, Ren!”

  Renzo, having just grabbed for the handle on the door, leaned back to see who was shouting at him from a window higher up. The man leaning out the window with a blunt between his fingertips and white smoke trailing higher gave him a nod.

  “Had a girl asking about you a while ago—that’s her car, yeah? Pretty thing, but she shouldn’t be around here, you know?”

  Oh, for fuck’s sake, please don’t tell me—

  Renzo didn’t even get to finish his thought because he turned to see which car the man was talking about, and yeah, there it sat. Lucia’s black Mercedes, locked up tight. He didn’t even have to wonder how he missed that car when he passed it by. His mind was on other things—like getting his father the hell out of his hair.

  Shit.

  Charlie whistled low. “That’s a nice car. And you know the chick driving it, do you?”

  This day could not get worse.

  “Mind your business,” Renzo snapped at his father.

  Charlie only shrugged. “Just sayin’—”

  “And stay out here. I’ll bring your money out.”

&
nbsp; Renzo just expected his father to listen to him and follow directions because Charlie didn’t have any reason to follow him inside. He hoped for too much because his father came inside, anyway, and gave him a look that dared him to tell him to go again.

  “Stay in the hallway, then,” Renzo said.

  “I’ll think about it.”

  Asshole.

  Renzo wished he could say that when he got upstairs, the sight of Lucia inside his apartment taking care of his strung-out mother was easy to take … but it wasn’t. She didn’t even see him standing there in the apartment doorway. She didn’t notice him as he watched her wipe down his mother’s face with a wet rag.

  She didn’t know he was there at all.

  And maybe that was for the best. Those first few seconds let him have all those emotions he didn’t want her to know he was feeling. All the shame and embarrassment was that nearly always constant whenever his mother was involved. The anger that … Jesus Christ, why was she here again? She’d be far better off staying on her own side of the city, and not trying to fit in on his. And oddly, he also found himself feeling grateful.

  Because what Lucia was doing for Carmen in those moments, Renzo couldn’t even be bothered to attempt to do anymore. He’d lost all empathy for his mother long ago. His ability to worry and love her had gone out the window right along with his respect for her, too. Every overdose … every time he had to pick up the pieces of Diego … all this fucking shit she had done to them meant he just couldn’t afford to care anymore.

  Lucia didn’t know those things, though.

  Apparently, she was just the type to care.

  How sweet.

  “How did you get in my apartment?” Renzo demanded.

  Lucia’s head popped up, and her striking hazel eyes found his in an instant. He could see the concern and softness reflecting back in her gaze, but he couldn’t be bothered to deal with that right now.

  She shouldn’t be here.

  He needed her to go for more reasons than she would ever be able to understand. Because he didn’t want her to see what his life was like. Because his father and mother didn’t even deserve to know who this young woman was, never mind her name. Because in those few seconds, Renzo realized Lucia Marcello might just be exactly what he thought she was—better than him.