Bellissimo Fortuna (Beautiful Fortune)

by Lunsford, Leigh Ann

  “Don’t, Papá.” He drops his head. I’ve never rejected him before.

  “I’m sorry, Figlio. So damn sorry.” He stands to leave, and Callie lifts her head from my side.

  “Mr. Agosto—” He waits while he turns to her, closing his eyes, like he can’t bear to see her like this. “Do you believe him?” I hear the hope, yet resignation in her voice. She wants someone, anyone to give her hope, make her believe he didn’t do this to her.

  “Caro, it’s not for me to believe or not. We deal in facts and have to bring it to the rest of the family.” No, he doesn’t believe for a second the man he once thought of as a brother, a best friend, isn’t liable. “Sometimes the truth can’t be explained away.”

  “I hate him, but I love him. Does that make sense to you? I don’t know why he could never give me the same back. Each day he reminded me what a disappointment I was, but that’s fine because I feel the same of him. But underneath it all, I love him. Now it may be too late to salvage anything.”

  My father has nothing to say, mulling over her words. “Please, don’t kill him. Don’t make me responsible for his death.” Her words nearly cripple me. Through it all, no matter what he does to her, the fact still remains, he is her father. I see my father take in a deep breath, and then Callie breaks. Sobs wrack her entire body, so much I am shaking, and in this moment I know what it means to be inconsolable. The hatred I feel makes it hard to breathe. I’m blinded trying to absorb her pain. He turns and walks out, never answering her. I’m torn. I want him rotting in the ground, but I don’t want her to carry that guilt. I gently pick her up and bring her to my room.

  I cocoon her between the blankets and my body and pray for the first time in forever. We all have our own faith, and I don’t personally care whom someone prays to, or if they don’t, but right now I need some salvation. I need some support so I can help her. “Please,” I beg. When her body seems to relax, all her energy sucked from her, the explosion that quakes the house startles us both. I run to my window, watch the flames dance off what was our family boat. All of the memories fade into the ashes as they dance across the lake. I can make out Luis and a few other men standing around. This was their way of ensuring there was no evidence of anything left behind from them taking the boat many months ago. This latest act of betrayal made everyone skittish and no stone can be left unturned.

  “Oh, God,” she says, wide-eyed and pale. She brings her hand to her mouth and jumps off the bed. She isn’t naïve, you can’t be in this life, but it affects her differently. She’s more empathetic to others. My father may not have to order the hit; I could take him out in this moment without a second thought. Following her to the bathroom, I get a wet washcloth, rub her back, and once she is done I tuck her in bed. “That’s because of my father,” she says pointing to the flames we can see outside.

  “We don’t know yet,” the first lie that I’ve ever told her. I know. She knows. We all know. We just can’t admit it yet. Neither of us sleeps much, but we are anchored to one another’s side, both trying not to sink in the storm that is raining down upon us. I heard people coming and going all night, and as much as my father has always kept the business dealings out of our residence, it was center stage for this dilemma. Around three in the morning everyone left, including Luis and my father. I know Callie realized it because a deep shudder ran through her body, and she clung to me tighter.

  When the sun beams in my window, I carefully climb out of bed. She drifted off about an hour ago, and she needs to rest. I get her some water and pain relievers and place them on the table. Staring out my window at the empty boat slip, I have so many emotions rolling through me. Anger isn’t even the main one anymore … despair, just wondering how the hell we all got here. Where does it end? Where will it leave us?

  I smell coffee and head downstairs. I notice a small suitcase by the steps and wonder who’s here. Walking into the kitchen, my mom and dad are sitting at the table, heads together, quietly drawing strength from one another. It’s a remarkable sight and one I used to envy. I’m lucky enough to have that in my life now. “Who’s staying?”

  “Carla packed a few things at my request. Callie will be staying here until you leave for college.” My mom may be soft spoken, but she’s firm, a force to be reckoned with when it comes to her kids, and she’s always considered Callie one of hers.

  “Father.” I nod at him.

  “When Callie wakes up, we’ll talk.”

  “Does she need to know?”

  “Bronson, it’s her father.”

  “I’m right here,” I never heard her walk in the kitchen. She looks horrible. Her skin is paler than normal, and her face marred with bruises that seem to stand out even more. I can tell by the way she’s moving that she’s sore, and we’re lucky nothing was broken. Hurrying to her side, I help her to a chair

  “Did you take the medicine I left you?”

  “Yes, but I need my other pills. The ulcer ones.” Shit.

  “Let me check your suitcase.”

  “My what?”

  “Bronson, go check, let me explain to Callie.” My mom wants to make sure she feels welcome. I rummage through her belongings and find no medicine.

  “There are none. Dad can you call Doc? He gave him to her the first time.” Grabbing the phone, he handles it before turning back to us.

  “They’ll be here within the hour. Do you need to wait to talk about this stuff?” He’s ignoring me. His focus is on Callie.

  “A pill isn’t going to make this easier. Go ahead and tell me.”

  I move to stand behind her, resting my hands on her shoulders, hoping if I show solidarity she won’t pull away, but instead, draw strength from my love. “I won’t go into extensive detail. We all met and without corroboration and his ranking in the family, we have to take his word on this situation.” I feel myself begin to shake. “But, that doesn’t mean trust hasn’t been broken. He was demoted; he didn’t take it well. It’s a waiting game to see if he’ll play by the rules or not.” I hear her exhale of relief.

  “Thank you.”

  “We did it by the book. Part of it as you know is you will stay here until you and Bianca join Bronson at college. How you handle your relationship with him is of course up to you, but I urge you to tread carefully. He is deeply upset, and I don’t know where he veered off course.” The pain etched on my father’s face is almost too much to see. Frank was his best friend, his right-hand man. Once a trusted and steadfast friend now is a foe. I wish he didn’t blame himself but when there are no clear answers, other than self-centered greed you have to question what you could have done differently.

  “Yes sir.” My parents leave us alone.

  “How do you feel?” I need her to talk to me.

  “Relieved. Yet I still feel like nothing was resolved. If he was behind this, why? What motive does he have? If he wasn’t, then why is he so angry all the time? Why was Marco his right hand man? I’m so confused and hope with time things make sense and work out.”

  “That’s all we can ask for. Now you need to get back to bed and rest. When your medicine gets here I’ll bring it to you.”

  I help her up and back to bed, where luckily she falls into a deep sleep. On the other hand, I’m too keyed up and worried about what to do next. All I can do is stare at her and wish upon every higher power that things even out.

  Chapter 15

  Callie

  I have been miserable for a month. It hurts to move, breathe, and exist. My ribs are sore, my face hurts, but more than anything my heart aches. I haven’t heard one word from my parents. It’s like I’m being punished for their transgressions. Once I sort through the feelings swirling through me, I’m pissed. I championed for him, regardless of our past, and he could give two shits. In a few days, I leave for college and that coward hasn’t shown his face. The Agostos, parents and kids alike, have gone out of their way to make me comfortable, and their house has always been my second home, but I can’t stand the sympathy. I didn�
��t do anything to deserve the punishment so I don’t want the pity received from it.

  I missed my prom, my graduation, and my last week of senior year . . . all the special rites of passage. Tonight Bronson informed me he was making it all up to me. I’ve spent almost every night in his bed, unless Bianca pulls the girl-time card. His mom looks the other way, but I think it’s because she suspects her son is a perfect gentleman. Beyond me trying to tempt him. I get the obligatory kisses, although they’re anything but stale and lacking, occasionally I will get a make-out session in the middle of the day, but those have become rare. I’m beginning to think he’s mad I tried to save my dad, but it’s something I can’t explain to him. You have to experience it, and me telling him to put himself in my shoes does no good. It can’t be explained, only felt. As a child it is in your blood to want to please, to be accepted, and when you go your entire life without that approval and love, you don’t give up. You fight for it, you pray for it, you hope for it . . . otherwise it has to be you, right? I’m slowly accepting it isn’t me. I wasn’t a boy, but I am still human. I wasn’t the quiet child, but I was still respectful. I followed my heart and until the last days, he had a place there.

  Bianca finds me, “Showtime, girly.”

  “Speak English . . . show time?”

  “I’m going to work my magic on you. I have a new outfit for you, now it’s time to make sure my brother can’t resist you.” She has been having sex for a year with Dakota, so she feels like the expert. I’ll never understand them. They aren’t in a relationship, but yet somehow they are exclusive. They aren’t a couple, yet they speak and see each other almost as much as Bronson and I. They aren’t involved; yet they share every milestone as one. I have given up trying to point out the obvious, though.

  I allow her to pull and tweeze and fluff . . . then I open the little pink bag she gave me. A coral-colored panties and bra set falls out, and I am stunned. “Against your skin, you will rock that color.”

  “If he even sees my skin,” I mutter.

  “Girl, you got this. If all else fails, strip, and then he can’t resist you.” I laugh at her bluntness. See, she thinks she is Dr. Fucking Ruth now. She chucks a box of condoms at me, and I throw them back. “I love you and all, but I don’t want any nieces or nephews at this time in my life.”

  “Well, I wouldn’t want to upset your balance by breeding without your permission, but remember I’m on the shot, and I doubt your brother is carrying an STD.”

  “I know, but I was helping you out. When Dakota and I started going without protection he didn’t last long at all the first few times. I don’t want my brother to embarrass himself by becoming the Minute Man your first time.”

  Groaning out loud, “Oh my God, Binks. You’re too much.”

  “Us girls have to stick together. Want the condoms now?” I contemplate for all of ten seconds.

  “Hell yes,” if we’re having sex you can bet your ass I want to get mine. “Did you have the big “O” the first time?”

  “Yes. During, before, and after. It hurts, not going to lie. It definitely is something that gets better each time. How many things can you say that about? Like shaving your legs . . . you were so excited the first time, now it’s just a pain in the ass. Or your period, man we thought we were hot shit, now I wish that bitch would just fuck off once a month.” She always has such a candid way of making her point, but she makes one hell of a point.

  “So don’t expect to see stars and all that shit they fill our heads with?”

  “Probably not, unless my brother is that good, and if he is, I don’t want to hear it. It will just piss me off.” Noted. “Now go . . . he is waiting for you and has instructed me the driver will pick you up.” The doorbell rings. “Now.” I grab my purse and hurry to the door. I have no clue if we’re having sex tonight, but I have butterflies all the same. That’s one feeling I hope never gets old, I pray it’s like sex and gets better each time.

  The driver takes me to Barefoot Beach Resort, located directly on the ocean, and leads me to the villa where Bronson is waiting for me. He has a table with candles, silver dishes, and even though it’s July there’s a fire going. I’m speechless . . . stunned. I can’t move even though walking was something I mastered seventeen years ago. One foot in front of the other, walk to the man you love, the man standing before you with hope shining in his eyes. I make my way slowly, watching his face, with each step I get closer. When I’m within reaching distance he pulls me close. Taking my mouth in a heated kiss, one I haven’t felt in forever, his tongue meets mine with promise and passion. Thank goodness he’s supporting me because I’m pretty sure my knees just buckled. He breaks the kiss and places his lips on my temple. That gesture alone allowed me to let go of every pent-up frustration I’ve been holding on to. That gesture allowed me to process and understand that no matter the trials and tribulations we faced, together we would be fine. That gesture showed me how much he loved me. That one simple gesture.

  “What’s all this for?” I take in the room once again.

  “You. Me. Us. You missed out on a lot this past month, I just want to make a memory with you. A new one. One we can both look back on and smile about. All the other stuff going on around us, tonight it doesn’t matter. Just this moment does.”

  “Sounds like you have something up your sleeve.”

  “Nope. Tonight we are flying by the seat of our pants. No expectations, no time frame, no distractions. We can eat, watch TV, and walk on the beach. Or anything else we want to. Tonight is all about us.”

  “Sounds just like what the doctor ordered.”

  “Speaking of the doctor, you need to see him again before we leave. Get all of your medications refilled.”

  “I already did.”

  “How did I miss that?”

  “You were at the gym, you know that body doesn’t keep itself up. You act like we’re never coming back, and I need to stockpile for a natural disaster.”

  “We don’t really have to come back frequently. Holidays, maybe. Or my parents can come to us. I didn’t want to bring it up, but we’ll be together this next year, so with everything going on there is no reason to come back here. We need to get some distance and maybe it will cause your dad to gain some perspective.”

  “Doubt it. He’s had a month for that. Hell, he has had eighteen years to gain some insight, and he hasn’t. That’s a lost cause, I’m afraid.”

  “Sorry. Hey, no more talking about this. I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

  “It’s fine. I’m fine. And I love the fact that we will be together all the time. Bianca and I were talking about getting our own condo, in the same building with you.”

  “Do what? Y’all are moving in there.”

  “How is it we leave in a few days and we haven’t had this conversation? I know we had our stuff shipped to your place, and we’re staying there, but won’t it get too crowded? You may want your own space.”

  “You frustrate the hell out of me sometimes. I don’t need space away from you. And if it gets too crowded, I’ll kick Bianca and Dakota out.” I shake my head at him, wondering why I even thought he’d let me stray too far from him. His protectiveness was brought up a few notches by the assault. Not that he is in my face about it or crowding me, but I know he always has someone in place watching over me.

  “Back atcha’ . . . you frustrate me, too.” I wink at him, letting him know I’m teasing.

  “Is that so?” he murmurs as he begins kissing my neck, right below my ear.

  “Hmmm,” is all I can manage.

  His lips continue to guide over the shell of my ear, down my neck, and across my collarbone. All thoughts of food, beach . . . anything other than him continuing to kiss me have left my mind. His tongue darts out and follows the line of kisses he just rained over my neck, and my hands have a mind of their own grabbing his waist and bunching his shirt in my hands. He moves his mouth over to capture my lips, slipping his tongue inside to stroke my own. This isn’
t his typical kiss; this is like a repeat of prom, priming me for something explosive. Gripping my hips in his hands, he controls my body movements by rubbing me against him, stopping me when he’s ready, then leading me backwards. We must have entered the bedroom sometime when we were devouring one another and without breaking away from me, he lifts me up, and my legs wrap around his waist. He turns so his legs are against the bed and sits with me in his lap. This is the perfect position for me to grind on him and create an intense amount of friction.

  Lying back on the bed causes me to drape over him, and his mouth leaves mine, working down to my collarbone. Slowly unbuttoning my dress, it falls off my shoulders. He shifts our position, so I am under him. “Are you sure?” His unrelenting conscience always making sure he isn’t pushing me too far too fast is endearing . . . yet frustrating. If it had been up to me we wouldn’t have waited this long.

  “Absolutely.” I know this is what I need. I hope that one word is answer enough for him. This is what I want. I have no doubts in doing this, in him, or in us. Pushing my dress down to my waist and shimmying it over my hips, it is discarded behind him somewhere. I reach my hands under his shirt, feeling the heat of his skin and every ridge of muscle. He takes that off, and it joins my dress. Standing up and staring down at me, he removes my sandals, then his pants. This is the most I have ever seen of him, and it’s a sight to savor. He has hard planes and smooth skin, a chiseled stomach, broad chest, and arms made to wrap around me. He sheds his boxers then my panties and bra.