I break free from his grasp and run.
The muscles in my legs protest. Water saturates my Converse as I run through the deep puddles.
After wiping my drenched hair from my face to clear my vision, I glance over my shoulder expecting to find them hot on my heels only to discover they’ve vanished.
“Eva?” The sweet voice of my savior echoes around me.
Only then do I pause as I twist around, search for her.
As my labored breathing intensifies, my panic-filled eyes obscure my vision.
“Where are you?” my voice echoes.
“Right behind you,” the chilling voice of the man says.
I lurch forward, straight into the arms of the awaiting pursuer. “No!” I scream. “Let me go!”
“Eva, it’s me.”
My heartbeat deafens me. My erratic thoughts drive me onward as I slap at the hands that tighten their grip on my shoulders. “Let me go!” I scream.
The hands retreat, allowing me to scurry around, searching for a way out of the darkness. The smooth cotton kisses my palms and naked knees.
“Eva,” the soft voice speaks again. “It was only a dream.”
I cease my frantic scrabbling and collapse on the bed. “Alice?”
Her cool hands tenderly search for my shoulders. “I’m here.”
She allows me to sit up and wipe the sweat from my brow.
“Was it them again?” she asks.
“Yes. They found me.”
“They won’t find you. We’re four states over. They won’t look for you here.”
My heart continues to pound in my ears like a rhythmic beat of a drum. “I hope you’re right.”
“Do you want the light on?”
“Please.” I shield my eyes as I wait for the blinding light.
She climbs onto the bed and envelopes me in her arms. “I thought the nightmares about them stopped. What triggered it?”
Before I answer, I rest my head on her shoulder and release a haggard sigh. “I thought I saw them at the club.”
“What? When? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I didn’t want to worry you.”
Her fingertips glide through my moist hair. “But it wasn’t them?”
“No.”
She cloaks us with the comforter. “Want me to stay here tonight?”
“Yes, please.” I release another heavy sigh. “I hate them.”
“I do too.”
As the sunlight kisses my cheek, I’m astounded to discover I slept after the horrifying nightmare. After stretching out my limbs, I turn my head, expecting to find Alice sleeping peacefully beside me, only to find her side vacant. I sit up, and run a hand through my tousled, matted hair, and gather it together to tie back with the hairband I retrieve from my nightstand. I’ll work on the monstrosity later.
Though the apartment is warm, I still feel the need to adorn a hoodie, leaving my legs bare under my shorts. I leave my room and find Alice perched on a stool by the breakfast bar. She has a cup of coffee nestled between her palms and she’s dressed in her work attire.
“Morning,” she greets me. “You were so peaceful. I didn’t want to wake you.”
I meander towards her and lean my hip against the bar. A stray lock of hair dangles around my face. I gather it and inspect the tips.
“You’re working early?” I ask.
“Yeah, I picked up a few extra hours,” she says. “What about you? When does he want you in?”
“Not for a few days.”
“Do you have any plans for today?”
I glide a fingertip along the breakfast bar and inspect the microscopic dust. “Clean the apartment and lie around and watch TV.”
“Sounds fun.”
I chuckle. “Yeah, riveting, right?”
“The news is on soon. Want to watch it with me?”
Not waiting for an answer, she slides off the stool and scurries over to the sofa. After collecting the remote, she flicks through the channels until she finds the morning news. She settles back and nestles the remote on her lap.
I amble over to join her side, curling one leg under me as I sit on the sofa.
The anchor team always dresses like they’re attending a ball. This morning is no different. Adorned in a glamorous scarlet dress, the curly-haired blonde anchorwoman, wearing far too much makeup, greets her audience before disclosing the news. Her painted smile amuses me; it’s always there, even as she reports the most macabre crimes.
A giggle races up my throat but lodges as I turn towards Alice. She’s fixated on the screen. I can’t understand her enthrallment until I hear the woman mention mob families.
“In the late hours of the evening, several warehouses belonging to the Rossi family mysteriously caught fire. Throughout the night, Firefighters worked diligently to control the blaze. When questioned, Chief Mendez stated that he suspects arson and is leaving it in the capable hands of the Twisted City Police Department to begin their investigations. They suspect gang wars between the families...”
“Which families?” Alice shouts.
“What’s with the sudden interest?” I ask her.
She ignores me.
As usual, I find the news monotonous. Yet another crime committed by the mafia.
I rise from the sofa and walk over to the kitchen to pour a glass of juice. I rest my elbows on the breakfast bar and cradle my chin in my hands as I watch Alice with fascination. Her facial expression, her posture, and even her demeanor all show signs of anxiety.
After a while, a heavy sigh escapes her lips as she covers her face with her hands and leans back against the sofa.
The sudden anguish concerns me and I rise from my elbows. “What happened?”
Again, she refuses to respond.
The jubilant anchorwoman changes the story, but this doesn’t seem to appease Alice.
I abandon my juice and rush to her side with open arms, ready to envelope and comfort her from whatever is vexing her. As I draw her into my arms, she uncovers her face, revealing an ecstatic grin.
I lean away. “I’m confused. Why are you so happy?”
“Huh?”
“You seem pretty relieved about something.”
“Oh, they suspect the Abella and Rossi families are feuding.”
“So?” I prod.
She averts her gaze while fumbling with the remote. “Well…because I’m glad they have a handle on things.” She rises from the sofa, dropping the remote behind her and scurries towards her room. “I should finish getting ready.”
I lean back against the sofa. Why is she acting so strange and why would this agitate her?
Wait. It’s not the families who are feuding that she’s interested in. It’s the ones who aren’t.
“What family does Angelo belong to?” I call out.
“Bellini. Why?” she shouts back.
“No reason.”
Does she have an interest in Angelo? Is her hatred for him a cover-up?
I chew on the stubs of my fingernails.
She emerges from her room adorned in her jacket, with her bag hanging from her shoulder. “I’m off to work. I should be home around six,” she tells me. “Sure you’ll be okay?”
“Yeah, I’ll be fine.”
“Oh, I left a stack of newspapers by the door. Can you put them in the recycling bin for me?”
“Sure.”
“Thank you. Bye,” she says, then walks out the door without another word.
I silence the TV and amble over to the breakfast bar to retrieve my juice.
What are you hiding, Alice?
As I bring the glass to my lips, curiosity consumes my thoughts. Once again, I abandon the juice and perch on the stool. I drum my fingertips on the bar.
Yesterday’s newspaper sits on the bar a few inches away from me. While chewing on the inside of my cheek, I slide it closer. As I flip through the paper, trepidation saturates my senses, though I can’t understand why. Finding nothing within the paper calms my
fears but escalates my frustration. There has to be a connection between the Bellinis and Alice’s odd behavior. I just need to find it.
The short stack of papers bound with cord lies in wait for disposal by the front door. My eyes narrow as I scrutinize them, waiting for them to reveal their secrets. Of course, they remain silent.
I slip off the stool, retrieve the stack, and place it on the bar. After liberating them from their restraints, I give each paper adequate attention, searching for anything to quench my curiosity.
I’m about to abandon my search when I reach the last paper.
The first few pages show nothing interesting until I reach midway into the paper. A picture of Angelo and Mario, dressed in their usual attire, draws all my attention.
“Well, that’s interesting,” I say to the empty room.
I lean closer to the picture, paying particular attention to the girl attempting to evade the photographer.
“I thought you didn’t like the mafia, Alice.”
While arching my head back, I peer over the arm of the sofa towards Alice.
“You look pretty. Where are you going?” I ask.
She’s adorned in her new blue dress tonight, with her hair piled high on her head and ringlets cascading around her face.
“Oh, I’m going out with a friend.” The corners of her mouth hitch up as she slips her arms into her beige trench coat.
“Guy or girl?” I press.
“A guy.”
With little effort, I swivel onto my front and rest my chin on the arm of the sofa.
“Boyfriend?” I ask, arching one eyebrow.
“No, just a friend.” She buttons her coat and slips her arm through the strap of her bag. “Don’t wait up.”
She practically dances out the door.
Yes, she’s definitely hiding something.
As soon as the door closes, I return to my original position, on my back with my head nestled in the crook of my arm, and stare at the ceiling.
Ever since I found that photograph of Alice with Angelo and Mario, I have tried to get her to fess up, but she wouldn’t say a word. Even after I showed her the photo, she told me it was her twin.
Being no closer to the truth only intensifies my curiosity. But I suppose there is one way I could get a little closer. Maybe then I can douse the flames.
My next shift is tomorrow night, but I could phone Angelo and ask when he wants me in again. If he’s at the club, then he’s not with Alice, the outcome of which I’m hoping to get by the end of the night.
Without further hesitation, I retrieve my phone from the floor beside me and find Angelo’s number.
The hummingbird flutters around her cage, but she quickly settles when the voicemail collects my call. I shut the phone off and rest it on the flat of my stomach, allowing my fingertips to drum an intermittent beat on the phone.
Just because it went to voicemail, that doesn’t mean he’s out with Alice. Maybe he just didn’t hear it ring.
I try his number again, but this time without the fluttering heart.
Again, voicemail collects the call.
The relentless curiosity consumes me, encouraging me to continue searching until I find the truth behind my best friend’s mysterious behavior. After pondering my options for a few moments, I call Frankie.
“Hello?” his deep voice booms in my ear after two rings.
“Hi, Frankie. I tried calling Angelo, but he didn’t pick up.”
“He’s not here tonight. He’s out with some girl. What’s up, Eva?” he asks.
An invisible fist connects with my stomach. He’s out with Alice.
“Eva?” His voice brings me back to reality.
The sorrow leaks from my voice. “Oh, I forgot when my next shift is.”
“Hang on, let me check.” There’s silence for a few moments. “You’re in tomorrow, 7:30 p.m.”
“Thanks, Frankie,” I whisper.
“Bye, Eva.”
Without my consent, tears obscure my vision and release, sliding down my face to soak into my hair. My arm falls to the side of the sofa, allowing my phone to slip from my hand, and hit the floor with a gentle thud. With the cuff of my pajama top, I dry my eyes and tuck my arms inside the sleeves to rub the soft fabric against my lips.
My suspicions about Alice and Angelo were right all along. But I can’t understand why she would keep this a secret from me. If only I could settle my ravaged mind as it continues to search for a plausible cause for her secrecy.
Did this relationship begin before or after I met him? If she dated him before we met, why would I care if he’s associated with the mafia? Why go to great lengths to portray such hatred for him?
But if they started their relationship afterwards, then she knew my fondness towards him, and she knew it would crush me.
I can only hope for the former.
“Hey, Eva,” Angelo greets me as I walk into the club the next evening.
He’s decked in his usual attire of a black suit with a matching vest. Tonight, he wears his blue tie, the one matching his eyes.
Despite my knowledge of his courtship with Alice, I still find myself mesmerized within those sensuous blue pools. Can she ever forgive me for being infatuated with her boyfriend?
“Come sit with me,” he commands, and I obey.
With an open hand, he gestures for me to sit on the nearest sofa and joins me. He leaves a sliver of air between us, inviting the hummingbird. His warmth and scent devour me.
He rests his hands on the table, lacing his fingers together. “You look beautiful tonight. Is that dress new?”
I tuck my hair behind my ear as I gaze into his eyes. “Yes. Courtesy of my boss.”
Choosing my attire tonight took little effort. I chose my plain black dress, determined to elude his attention. The dress is a lot shorter than the other four, yet remains long enough to conceal my scars. To complete my look, I opted for the knee-length, black suede boots Elodie assigned to this dress, and my short black leather jacket. With the help of my best friend and beautician, I kept my straightened hair down tonight and decided against makeup, no longer feeling the desire to entice him.
However, my efforts are futile as he leans back against the sofa, resting one elbow on the back while allowing his gaze to drink in my appearance.
His lips curve, revealing a slither of white teeth. “I never received my private viewing,” he croons.
Warmth stains my cheeks and I look at the table.
He shouldn’t be flirting with me, and I shouldn’t provoke it. Nevertheless, I can’t seem to stop my eyes from fluttering up to meet his.
There’s so much passion in his gaze, and I feel tremendous bolts of electricity reverberate between us. Or is it only radiating from me and bouncing off of him?
“I need to ask for a favor,” he says, diminishing the volts. “I’ll be away for a few nights. Clyde’s coming in early to help Frankie out. Can I ask the same from you?”
“Sure, no problem,” I say, unable to deny anything he asks of me.
“I need you to set up the music for the night. That way, Frankie’s not overloaded with work. If you wouldn’t mind coming in for the next three nights?”
I nod. “Business or pleasure trip?”
“Business. Always business.”
“You never take holidays?”
“We’re closed on most holidays,” he says, looking confused.
I giggle. “Oh, sorry, my British is showing. I meant vacations.”
His eyebrows raise. “Oh, those. Barely. I’m always too busy.”
“That’s a shame.”
He sighs. “It is what it is. What about you?”
I rest an elbow on the table, cradling my cheek into the palm of my hand. “I’d like to if I had the money.”
He mirrors my position. “And where would you go?”
“England. Apparently, I have family there, somewhere. Have you ever been?”
As he sits up, he gathers his tumbler, draining the
contents before returning it to the table. “Nah. Traveled around America for business and spent time in Terre Oscure.”
I furrow my brow in confusion. “Terre Oscure?”
“Italy. My hometown.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah, Frankie and I are full-blooded Italians. Sicilians if you want to get technical. Our grandparents on both sides are Sicilian, and for reasons unknown, moved to Terre Oscure.”
As I lift my head, I lower my arm to the table. “You have an American accent though.”
He pinches his fingertips together on one hand, shaking them with every syllable. “What do you mean? Eh? I’m Italian through and through,” he says in a thick Italian accent. The mischievous grin I’ve grown to adore slinks along his lips as his eyes sparkle.
I giggle.
He reverts to his normal accent. “I adopted the American accent after a few years in school. Kids picked on me for being Italian. It was just easier.”
“Kids bullied you? That seems hard to believe.”
“Believe it or not, I was a skinny little runt once. Until I met Mario. A lot changed then.”
“I didn’t go to school,” I confess.
“Never?”
My hands find comfort in one another in my lap. “My mom home-schooled me. I’m sure it’s where the accent came from.”
“Ah, makes sense. And everyone loves the cute English accent, right?” His eyebrows raise briefly as the mischievous grin emerges on his lips. “Better than the Italian one.”
“I don’t know. I kind of like the Italian one.”
For a moment, our gazes lock, waking the hummingbird.
He clears his throat. “Your parents are still in Cinderwoods, right? Do you still see them?”
“My parents died in a car accident when I was seven.”
He leans back against the sofa and grazes his face with the palms of his hands. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.”
“It’s okay. You wouldn’t have known otherwise.”
One arm slinks along the back of the sofa towards me, closing the gap between us.
I can’t resist the urge to inhale his scent deeply, becoming drunk from it. My breath shudders when I discover the longing within his ocean-blue pools. The hummingbird beats her wings, imploring him to embrace me, to kiss me.
Twisted City: (Twisted City Book 1) Page 12