by JM Darhower
Before she struck her, arms yanked Haven away, and Nicholas absorbed the force of Lisa’s punch in his chest. “Whoa, Laila Ali, watch where you’re swinging!”
Lisa sneered at him. “What did you call me?”
“Laila Ali,” he repeated.
“Who the hell is that?”
“She’s a boxer,” Haven said. “Muhammad Ali’s daughter.”
“Why are you talking?” Lisa took a step toward her. “Nobody asked you anything.”
“Hey now,” Nicholas said, trying to step between them, but he wasn’t quick enough. Lisa grabbed Haven’s arm, ripping her corsage off and throwing it on the floor. Nicholas intervened again, and Lisa stomped away as he picked up Haven’s corsage. “Here.”
She took it carefully. ”Thanks.”
“You’re welcome,” he said, smiling, but there was something off about it. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine, thank you.”
He didn’t look convinced. “ I’ve known the DeMarco’s for a long time. We used to be pretty close, and sometimes when you spend a lot of time with people, you learn things about them. Like… some of the stuff their family does.”
Her brow furrowed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I’m not an idiot, Haven,” he said, his voice low. “I have no intention of dying anytime soon, that’s for sure. I know how to keep my mouth shut, but I can’t hold it in anymore. You told me you were from California, when not long ago Carmine said you were from Chicago. And they don’t just invite people to live with them. They don’t let anyone get close unless they can control them some way, and it freaks me out for what that means with you.”
She felt queasy. “What do you mean?”
“I mean you aren’t just some friend of the family like they say you are. You didn’t come here to get away from the city, when you look downright terrified in a small town. I think you had no choice as to whether or not you came here.”
“I had a choice,” she said quietly, remembering Dr. DeMarco’s words that first day. “We always have a choice.”
“Look, it’s not like I can do anything. I’m just a kid, and I don’t know your situation. For all I know, you could’ve been kidnapped and are being held for ransom, or hell, maybe you’re in hiding, like witness protection. I don’t know, but that doesn’t mean I don’t feel bad knowing you might be trapped.”
She glanced around, nervous they were talking about this in public. “They’re nice to me.”
“I’m sure they are, but that doesn’t make it right,” he said. “And it makes me sick that Carmine’s taking advantage of you.”
Her fingernails dug into her palms as she tried to keep herself from reacting to his words. “Carmine loves me.”
“I have a hard time believing he loves anyone. He’s selfish.”
“I love him.”
“Let me guess, he’s the first person to treat you that way? He smiles at you and whispers sweet nothings in your ear? He speaks Italian and makes you swoon? Yeah, he did that to nearly every girl in this building at some point. That’s who he is.”
“Nothing is going to change my mind.”
“Fine, but like I said, that doesn’t mean we can’t be friends. If you ever need to talk, I’m around.”
“Why do you care so much?”
“Because somebody should.”
She opened her mouth to tell him Carmine cared, but before she could, his seething voice rang out behind them. “Leave her alone.”
“He was helping me,” Haven said right away, not wanting Carmine to get the wrong idea.
He wrapped his arm around her waist as he glared at Nicholas. “Helping you with what?”
“Your groupies cornered her, so I did what any man would do,” Nicholas said. “Actually, never mind—most would’ve stood back and watched two hot chicks going at it. But I didn’t want Lisa to get her ass whipped at prom. I’m hoping for a little action tonight.”
Carmine looked at her. “Lisa tried to fight with you? Again?”
“So I see it’s not a one-time occurrence,” Nicholas said.
Haven held up her corsage. “She broke my flowers.”
He took it from her and cursed under his breath as the music stopped and a person came over the loudspeaker. Carmine glanced behind him before tugging on her. “Come on, Haven.”
Carmine started to pull her away when Nicholas’s voice called out. “Knock, knock.”
Feeling guilty, she looked at him once more. “Who’s there?”
Carmine stopped moving, not amused.
“Tank,” Nicholas said.
“Tank who?” She got it the moment the words rolled from her lips. Tank Who; Thank You.
Nicholas smiled. “You’re welcome, Haven.”
“Always so immature,” Carmine said, tugging her hand again.
“Pot meet Kettle, Carmine.”
Carmine grumbled as they walked through the crowd, where a lady stood on a platform with a microphone. Haven sighed, snuggling into his chest as they stopped near the stage. Tess and Dominic’s names were announced then, and the crowd cheered. Haven watched as they stepped up on the stage, Dominic grinning widely while Tess stood there with her usual scowl.
“Did they win something?” she asked as the lady placed crowns on both of their heads.
“King and Queen,” he said. “It’s a popularity contest.”
“And you didn’t win?”
“You have to be a senior to win.”
Dominic grabbed the microphone and took a step forward. “You like me, you really like me!” he said in a mock high-pitched voice, channeling his inner Sally Fields. “First of all, I have to thank my first grade teacher, what was her name? Mrs. Johnson? Nichols? Jameson? Prescott? Yeah, that was it. Man, I had such a crush on her. Even at five, I had awesome taste in women—just look at Tess. Isn’t she banging? Anyway, I need to thank Mrs. Pentecostal, because she told me I’d never win anything, and that hurt, man. But I guess I showed her. So take that, Mrs. Presley!”
A loud squeal rang out as Tess snatched the microphone. Haven cringed at the noise while everyone laughed. “Hey I wasn’t done!” Dominic said. Tess glared at him, and his grin grew as he grabbed the microphone back. ”Thank you, everyone, and screw you, Mrs. Parker!”
Haven smiled. Leave it to Dominic to lighten the mood. “What was his teacher’s name?”
“Mr. Campbell,” Carmine said. “He was an old bald guy.”
* * * *
Soft music played, and the crowd parted for Tess and Dominic to take a spot in the middle. People started pairing up and Carmine put his hands on Haven’s hips, drawing her closer.
Wrapping her arms around his neck, she gazed at him. Carmine licked his lips and leaned down, kissing her softly as they swayed to the music. She smiled, love swelling inside of her. This was her Carmine, the one who wasn’t afraid to let his guard down and let her inside. In the middle of a crowded room, there was no one there but them. He was all she saw, all she was aware of. His face, his smell, his warmth, his love—it was all that mattered.
The emotion took control of her as tear threatened to spill over. The song wound down, and the two of them stood in the center of the dance floor, staring at each other. “Can we…?”
She didn’t have to complete her thought. “Yeah, let's go home.”
* * * *
Later that night, Carmine lay with his head on Haven’s stomach as she ran her fingers through his sweaty hair. He caressed her side and thigh, drawing patterns on her skin with his fingertips. She wondered what he was thinking, what he was drawing, but part of her was afraid to ask.
“I’m sorry,” he said eventually. “I’ve been holding back, and I know that’s not fair to you. I just… I love you. I know I’m a pain in the ass, but you’re the only good thing I have.”
“You shouldn’t apologize,” she said. He was asking her to forgive him for something she’d been doing. He was giving her everything, trusting her and
risking his safety to help her. He’d taken her to his dance, and she got to wear a pretty dress with a devastatingly handsome boy who loved her. It was her dream, the dream just months ago she’d never thought possible.
She felt so inadequate sometimes, like she didn’t deserve him, and she knew it was her insecurities eating away at her. But now… now she truly felt she didn’t. “Carmine. I have to tell you something.”
His fingertips stilled mid-pattern on her stomach. “Huh?”
“I think Nicholas might know.”
“What do you mean?”
“He might know about me.”
Carmine sat up quickly. “What are you talking about? What does Nicholas know?”
“He knows I’m a, you know… slave.”
His eyes darkened. “Did he fucking call you that?”
She shook her head. “No way! He knows—or he suspects—I’m not here willingly.”
“How would he suspect that? It’s impossible.”
“I don’t know. I thought earlier he might know, and then tonight he said so.”
“What do you mean you thought earlier?”
“I, uh… I ran into him, that’s all.”
“Where?”
“At the grocery store.”
“And he said something then, too? What did he say?”
“He just said he was surprised I was out on my own,” she said quietly. “He said he wanted to be friends, because he thought I could use one.”
“He wants to be friends? Yeah, right. That motherfucker just wants what I have. He wants to take everything from me! Don’t you see that?”
She shrugged hesitantly. Honestly, she wasn’t sure anymore.
* * * *
The air in the room was thick, the smell of sex and strawberries strong enough to distract Carmine for a while.
The past month had been one of the most complicated of his life. His emotions were out of control, the love and anger he felt at odds with each other. It was an epic battle brewing inside of him, different sides fighting for control of his heart and mind. Everything drove him over the edge, and what Haven had told him wasn’t helping him remain calm.
After she was asleep, he stood up and threw on some clothes. Walking out of the room, he shut the door quietly behind him before heading down the stairs. The light was on in his father’s office so he tentatively knocked on the door, waiting a moment before opening it. Vincent looked at him from behind his desk, his brow furrowed. “You’re the last person I expected to see.”
“Why?” he asked, sitting down in the chair across from him.
“Because you knocked, and that’s not like you.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t know myself anymore, so I guess I’m capable of anything at this point.”
He nodded. “You’ve been irritable lately. Are you dealing okay?”
“I’m over that shit.”
“I don’t believe that for a second,” Vincent said. “It took me years to come to grips with it.”
“Well, I don’t have years. I don’t even wanna think about it, much less talk about it.”
“Okay, then. Is there another reason you came down here?”
“Yeah, it’s about tonight—”
“How was prom? Did you have a good time?”
Carmine groaned, irritated he was cutting him off. “It was just fucking peachy, Dad. Now can I finish?”
Vincent waved him on.
“The point is we ran into Nicholas, and he said something.”
“What did he say?”
“He said he knew the truth about Haven.”
Carmine watched as his father’s expression shifted, a blank mask overcoming his face. Each second of silence grated on his nerves. Why was he just sitting there?
“What exactly did he say, Carmine?”
“He told her he wanted to be her friend because he was worried about her situation. I guess because he thinks he knows who you really are.”
“It's possible he knows more than he should.”
Carmine sat forward. “My enemy knows the truth, and you didn’t think to tell me?”
“He's not your enemy, Carmine.”
“He is my enemy. Why’s he still alive if he knows?”
Vincent shook his head. “You don’t mean that.”
“I do mean that.”
“No, you don’t,” he said sharply. “I know what enemies are. I know the threats they pose, and Nicholas is not an enemy. He knows no more than Dia or Tess. He probably knows less. I can’t kill him any more than I could kill one of those girls. Or is that what you’re suggesting—wiping out everyone who might know? That’s not how you get a clean slate with her, son. You can’t run from the truth.”
“That’s irrelevant. How can he be trusted with anything when he’s betrayed us before?”
“He didn’t betray us,” Vincent said. “And he won’t tell.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Because if he was going to tell, he would’ve by now,” he said. “I’m not going to murder a seventeen-year-old kid just because you think it’ll make you feel better. Because I assure you, it won’t. You’ll deal with the guilt of his death for the rest of your life, and I have enough people to worry about right now.”
Carmine stared at his father. “Like him?”
He nodded. “Yes. Him.”
“So you haven’t figure out how to deal with him?”
“I’m just delaying the inevitable, hoping when the time comes I do the right thing… whatever that may be.”
“You know, I could probably guess who—”
“Don’t even go down that path, Carmine Marcello,” he said. “I’m not going to tell you again.”
Carmine nodded, but there was no way he could stop thinking about it. “There are only so many people you’d be afraid of, though.”
Vincent lost his cool as he stood up, shoving his chair back and pointing at the door. “Get out.”
Carmine walked out. His father slammed the door behind him, the noise so loud he flinched. Dominic came strolling down the steps then, his arm around an exhausted Tess. “What did you do to piss Dad off this time?”
Carmine sighed. “The usual.”
Dominic shook his head. “Well, cheer up, bro. I did a little research and I think I might know how to get Dad’s tracking software to freeze. He’ll catch on when her chip isn’t moving, but it’ll take him some time to get it back in working order.”
“You’d really do that for me?” he asked.
“Yeah, man. Anything to give you two a chance.”
Tess shook her head. “You’re idiots. Dr. DeMarco’s going to be furious when he finds out.”
“Fuck him,” Carmine said. “He has no business chipping her.”
“Maybe he has a good reason,” Tess said. “Maybe he knows what he’s doing.”
“And maybe you’re a bitch.”
Tess lunged at Carmine, but Dominic jumped between them before she could strike. He dragged his girlfriend down the steps while Carmine just smiled, grateful his brother was being so supportive. He headed back up to the third floor, relieved, and nearly collided with Haven at the top of the stairs. “Whoa! Where are you going?”
“I didn’t know where you went,” she said, chewing on her bottom lip. He felt guilty that she looked so nervous, and he reached up, pulling her lip from between her teeth.
“Where I’ve been doesn’t matter. All that matters is where I am now.” He scanned her. She had on a pair of his flannel pants, rolled up to stay on, and his football shirt. It was the same thing she’d had on that very first day in the kitchen. “You know, you look good in my clothes, but how about we go take them back off?”
She gasped as he pulled her to his room. “Well, good morning.”
“Yeah, it’s definitely about to be a good morning,” he said playfully. “And a good afternoon. And a good evening, if I’m lucky.”
They made love quietly on-and-off all afternoon, careful not to be overhe
ard. She sprawled out in the bed beside him after a while, sleeping peacefully on her stomach. The blanket barely covered her bottom half, leaving her back exposed. He stared at her skin, wishing she’d never gotten any of those marks. He wished she’d never had to experience pain, and he hated those fucking scars, but on the other hand, they showed her strength. They were a part of her, and to him, there was nothing ugly about her.
She deserved more than what she had, and Carmine couldn’t wait to give it to her. To give her a real life where she was free. Free of her imaginary chains, free of heartache, free of danger. Just… free.
He traced the word with his finger over her scarred back. Free. It was all that mattered to him.
Chapter 33
“You’re going to die.”
Those four words cracked the silence that had enveloped the room. Vincent fought back the urge to balk at the statement, instead keeping his calm disposition. It wasn’t like it was something he hadn’t already thought to himself dozens of times, but hearing it verbalized in that cold, emotionless voice made it more real.
He glanced in the direction the words had come and met Corrado’s piercing eyes, so dark Vincent couldn’t differentiate between the pupil and the iris. They were the same eyes dozens had looked into their last moments on earth, eyes that could break even the hardest of men. They were the eyes of a murderer, a man who could reach inside his coat, pull out his .22 caliber Ruger Mark II pistol, and put a bullet into Vincent before he even realized what was happening. More importantly, they were the eyes of a man who wouldn’t hesitate to do it if he felt it was necessary.
“I know,” Vincent said, keeping his voice even despite his anxiety. He was taking a risk, but he was running out of time. Every scenario seemed impossible for him to pull off on his own.
It was the first of June, and tomorrow Dominic would graduate from high school. Out of everything Vincent had done in life, Dominic felt like his greatest accomplishment. Just the fact that his eldest son had survived intact and was setting off on a path that didn’t resemble the one he’d walked down at his age made Vincent feel as if he’d done something right. There was something he hadn’t destroyed, someone’s life he hadn’t ruined.