Twisted City: (Twisted City Book 1)

by Rebekah Vasick

  I reluctantly shed my leather jacket and lock it away inside my locker along with my bag and rest my forehead against the cool metal door. A stone materializes in the pit of my stomach, while an acrid taste forms in my mouth, and I want to spit the poison out. Pressure builds from behind my closed eyes. The pressure of the tears searches for freedom, though I deny their escape.

  What kind of friend am I? What kind of friend would allow themselves to become so enraptured by their best friend’s boyfriend that they can’t concentrate on anything else?

  The rage that consumed Alice the day Angelo hired me makes perfect sense. I spent the entire night flirting with her boyfriend.

  With great velocity, I hit my locker with my clenched fist as the first tear breaks free, sprinting for its freedom. I allow it to escape, staying my hand as the tear reaches my chin and plummets into the abyss. The others, however, I wipe clear from my eyes with the back of my hand as I force my heavy, uncooperative feet to move towards the desk.

  Even as I sink into his chair, I recall the night we danced, how we ended up here and I saw his forlorn state, the very state I find myself in now. Only, his reasons were different from mine. I’m sure he didn’t mourn for his insatiable desires for me.

  I know I should work on the songs for tonight, yet as I stare into the black screen of the laptop, I cannot compel my fingers to move or my mind to focus on anything other than him. How is it possible for me to feel this strongly for a man I’ve only known for twelve weeks? Or is it simply because he’s unavailable that I find him so desirable? If I’m unable to give my whole self to him, I won’t get hurt. But am I not suffering, anyway?

  Unlike the club, his fragrance saturates the entire office. Even his essence shrouds me. After resting my hands on the arms of the chair, I lean back and rest my cheek against the cool leather, inhaling deeply. Only then do I discover the open door beside me, piquing my curiosity.

  Though the light is off, enough light from the desk lamp seeps through the open door, illuminating the bathroom. What compels me to enter, is beyond me.

  I rise from the chair and tiptoe to the threshold and allow my fingertips to caress the cool, smooth tiles until I find a light switch. The yellow glow floods the room, revealing white wall tiles and dark gray flooring. My eyes gravitate to the dark oak wardrobe, to which I drift towards, allowing my fingertips to grasp the handle on the door. Only then do I pause.

  I shouldn’t be doing this. It’s wrong to invade his privacy. Yet the same bond that holds me to Angelo compels me to press on, to be close to him, even in spirit.

  Inside the wardrobe is a series of suits and white shirts. With tenderness, I reach out for the arm of a suit jacket, allowing my fingertips to caress the soft fabric before bringing it towards my nose and inhaling deeply. I close my eyes and allow him to materialize in my mind, wearing the mischievous grin I adore as he gazes at me with sensuous eyes. Without a word, he leans in close, grazing the tip of my nose with his own before kissing me.

  I gasp as my eyes pry open while the sleeve of his suit slips from my fingertips. A heavy sigh escapes my lips as I graze my face with the palms of my hands. These inappropriate thoughts about Angelo need to stop, for the sake of my friendship with Alice and for my own sanity. Yet I continue to explore the contents of the wardrobe.

  I find a shirt, crumpled in a heap on the floor. Why segregate this shirt from its siblings?

  I gather the shirt and discover the spots of blood on the collar. As I investigate further, I find more blood on the cuffs.

  I drop the shirt and slap my hands over my mouth, capturing the escaping gasp, while my wide eyes remain riveted on the blood-soaked shirt. What did he do?

  Though my mind implores me to leave, I continue my investigation.

  While hunkering down, I sift through the shoes, the stray belts and ties until my fingertips caress the cool metal of a box. With ease, I draw it from the darkness and discover the metallic box has a keyhole at the front center, though I find the box unlocked as I lift the lid. Trepidation seeps through my skin as I gather the strength to peer inside.

  Another gasp escapes my lips as I slam the lid closed, skidding myself back away from the box, away from the gun.

  Did he shoot someone? Is that why there’s blood on his shirt?

  My terrified eyes remain on the closed box, ever fearful of the secrets escaping. I scramble to my feet and slam the wardrobe door shut. I race out the bathroom, killing the light and slamming the door behind me. I run towards my locker, while my body quivers. Even my fingers tremble as I fumble with the lock. As I yank the door open and grasp my jacket, his voice echoes in my mind.

  What did you expect, Eva?

  Though my hand remains clenched around my jacket, I cease my frenzied escape.

  What do you mean? I respond, as if we were actually conversing.

  I’m in the mafia, he reminds me.

  Did you kill someone?

  Do you really want to know?

  I chew on my lip. No, of course not.

  Do you believe I would hurt you, angel? Or Alice?

  No.

  My fingers uncurl from my jacket.

  As I close the door of my locker, I rest my forehead against the cool metal once again. Since the very beginning, I’ve known he was in the mafia, and it never bothered me before. Even the poker game nightmare wasn’t enough to scare me away. Why should this?

  I drift back over to the desk to ease into his chair once again and wake the sleeping laptop.

  Am I a fool for immersing myself into this dark and dangerous world? I know I’m a fool for loving him, despite his occupation.

  I rest my elbows on the desk and hide my face in the palms of my hands.

  Oh, Alice. Please forgive me for my transgressions.

  I can’t say how long I’ve stayed in the office with the laptop open before me. At least an hour ago the laptop returned to its slumber, yet my distant gaze remains on the screen as my mind berates me for my indiscretions.

  “Hey, Eva,” Lily greets me.

  I swivel my eyes towards her as she appears around the corner. I’m grateful for the distraction.

  “Hi, Lily. You’re early, aren’t you?” I ask.

  “A little. I like to hear you sing.”

  Oh, gosh, I forgot I was supposed to sing the first hour. What time is it?

  After waking the laptop, I discover I still have another ten minutes before I’m required to entertain the guests. If only I could offer my hour to Lily. But she would ask me what’s wrong and I have no ready-made excuse.

  She occupies the empty chair. “So, how have you been?”

  “I’m doing well,” I lie. “You?”

  “Not too bad.” She rests an elbow on the desk, cradling her chin in her palm. “Isn’t it weird not having Angelo here?”

  A slight smile graces my lips. At least I’m not the only one affected by his absence.

  “Yes, it really is. Does this happen often?” I wonder.

  Her soft hazel eyes avert mine as she picks at her manicured fingernails.

  Clearly, she knows the technicalities of his business trips, but she’s not in a position to divulge such secrets. Though I’m not stupid. I know it’s mafia related.

  “Sometimes he’s called away for business trips and spends a few days out of town, and other times he’s away for one night,” she sighs. “The three-night events are pretty infrequent.”

  In the short time, I’ve known Lily, her hairstyle never changes from straight, shoulder length hair with a fringe that shapes around her slender face. I’ve often seen Angelo drape his arm around Lily, drawing her close to his side.

  Considering Elodie’s comment about his love for all things beautiful, it’s perfectly clear why he’s drawn to her. She’s stunning.

  Everything about her is delicate, from her features to her frame, along with her personality. But this has never hindered my fondness towards Lily; in fact, we’ve become good friends.

  “I love yo
ur dress,” I say, drowning out the increasing silence.

  She peers down at her midnight blue dress. “Oh, thank you. My sister got it for me for my birthday.”

  The dress reminds me of Alice’s new dress with spaghetti straps.

  “She got me these shoes too,” she says, rising from the chair to show off a pair of platforms matching the color of her dress.

  Lily is rather short and wears high heels to match the other girls’ height. Unlike myself, she’s very graceful as she sashays around the club or on stage.

  “When was your birthday?” I ask once she sits back down.

  “Saturday.”

  “Oh, happy late birthday.”

  “Thank you.”

  Frankie interrupts our conversation as he enters the office. To my surprise, he swoops in to kiss Lily on the cheek.

  “Hello, love,” he says.

  Her eyes glimmer as she gazes at him. “Hi, Frankie.”

  My eyes widen at the public display of affection. Isn’t he married?

  He looks at me and chuckles. “Don’t worry, Eva. She’s my sister-in-law. Are you ready? You’re up in two minutes.”

  “Thanks, Frankie,” I say.

  As I exit the office, I notice the patrons have filled the club to capacity. The exuberant excitement fills the air. But Angelo’s non-existent presence monopolizes the ambience, and all too soon, my heart tears open once again.

  With shallow breaths, I climb the stairs to the stage and towards the microphone. My eyes gravitate to Angelo’s table to discover its occupied by Frankie and Lily. Of course, I knew he wouldn’t be there. Yet I feel as if I’ve only just learned of his absence as a heavy stone materializes in my chest. I have to avert my gaze before sorrow weeps from my pores.

  My eyes travel over to the bar where Clyde serves drinks. Between serving customers, he glances over to me, though I can’t be sure if this is something he’s always done, or only started tonight. I’ve noticed his flirtatious advances to other girls had decreased. But it’s all in vain. Clyde could be the perfect gentleman, give his affections to only me, and love me with all his heart and soul. Still, my wretched heart cries out for Angelo, and him alone.

  The long-awaited reunion between Angelo and I is happening tonight, and try as I might, I can’t contain my excitement. I try to convince myself that all I’ve missed is his friendship as I select my favorite dress, the scarlet dress that brings joy to his face. I disregard the fact my entire body seemed to come alive the moment it acknowledged his homecoming was tonight.

  Alice styles my hair into ringlets that cascade down my back and applies smoky makeup to my eyes. Maybe I’m trying to recreate my first meeting with Angelo, to gain the attention he gave me that night.

  All morning, I work on perfecting my performance. Not for the stage, but for my composure when in his presence. I’ve invented a mantra to chant over and over, in a feeble attempt to keep my affections at bay. He’s my friend. My best friend’s boyfriend. Nothing more.

  Despite my best efforts, it only fuels my desire to be near him all the more.

  As the taxi approaches Club Stang, a flurry of butterflies invades my stomach. The hummingbird returns as well, having missed Angelo as much as I have. By the time the taxi reaches the club, I feel as if I’m drunk on a strong liqueur. I can’t compose myself anymore. Even my features betray me, refusing to do my bidding, as my lips curl and my eyes venture to mimic Alice’s alluring eyes. Maybe I can persuade others this is all for Clyde. I do like Clyde after all.

  Even my feet appear eager to enter the club as the sudden burst of energy propels me forward. Without my consent, my eyes scan the room for Angelo the moment I step through the doors. I find him and Mario at a nearby table.

  Though my yearning heart desires to be close to him, I amble over to the bar to greet Clyde instead and anticipate him leaning across the bar to kiss me.

  To my surprise, he stays his lips.

  “You look nice today, Eva,” he compliments without even glancing my way.

  “Thanks. Is everything okay?” I ask while easing onto the same stool I’ve occupied the last three nights.

  “Yeah, everything’s fine.” He glances up for a split second before lowering his eyes again.

  I hunker down towards the bar top and look through my lashes to catch his attention. Only then does he cease cleaning the beer glass to give me his full attention. However, sorrow saturates his once, sparkling honey-brown eyes.

  “I need to cancel our plans,” he says, running his hand over his face.

  With my palms flat on the bar top, I push myself back up and sit rigid.

  “What? Why?” I ask.

  He massages the back of his neck. “You’re a nice girl. I really like you as a friend, but that’s all.”

  An invisible pair of hands grip my heart, squeezing it. I open my mouth to speak, but no words come forth. A rogue tear glides down my cheek. I wipe it away before he spies it. I slide from the stool and retreat for the office.

  As I reach my locker, a sudden wave of nausea hits me. I rest my forehead against the coolness of my locker as I take shallow breaths. Clyde must have sensed my aversions towards him and my fondness towards Angelo. Why else would he be so cold? But is this really the cause of my pain?

  The office door hinges creak, alerting me to someone’s presence, but I remain where I stand.

  “Everything okay?” Angelo’s soft voice reaches my ears from the archway.

  The hummingbird beats her wings, but I refuse to face him.

  I steady my voice before I speak. “I feel sick,” I say quietly.

  Gentle warmth dances across my skin as his hands reach my shoulders. Though my body pleads with me to turn and embrace him, I force myself to remain still.

  “Do you want to go home?” he asks.

  “Yes.”

  “Okay. I’ll get my keys.”

  By the time I turn around, he’s already left the office.

  Ordinarily, I would fight to trap my tears within, refusing to expose my true emotions to anyone. But not tonight. I’m too exhausted to fight anymore. I let the tears flow, not caring if my makeup runs.

  The betraying creak of the office door hinges announces his return, though I leave my tears on display. No words escape his lips as he approaches, nor does he speak as his tender hand reaches towards my face, where he uses his thumb to wipe the tears away.

  The heavy stone returns to my stomach as I gaze into his ocean pools. His eyes show so much pity, though I can’t determine if it’s for me, or his comprehension of my desires he can never fulfill.

  “Do you want to talk about it?” he asks.

  “Not really,” I whisper.

  “I don’t like seeing you cry. I wish there was something I could do.”

  “You could take me home.”

  For a moment, we remain locked in one another’s gaze. Maybe he is trying to read my thoughts, though I silenced them the moment he returned.

  I’m the first to break our trance as I look at his tie. He wears a scarlet one tonight, matching my dress.

  As I lower my head, my hair cascades around my face, concealing my anguish. My eyes seal shut, imprisoning the rest of my tears.

  A tender caress from his fingertips parts my hair, tucking it behind my ear before cradling my chin, encouraging my face to rise to greet him.

  Though I allow him to manipulate my movements, my eyes remain closed until I feel his hot breath against my ear. “I’m here for you, angel,” he whispers, followed by something in Italian.

  He releases my chin to seek for my hand. As his fingertips glide along my palm, I watch as he laces our fingers together, and only greet his ocean pools when he speaks again. “Ready?” he asks.

  No. I’d rather stay here with you.

  “Yes,” I say.

  It’s surprising to find he’s capable of driving at a slower speed, but I’m grateful for the gentle ride.

  “How was your business trip?” I ask in a timid voice.<
br />
  “Pretty boring. I missed being at the club.”

  I wish I could divulge how much I missed him.

  “Did everything go well in my absence?” he asks, glancing my way for a moment.

  The memory of Clyde’s kisses filters into my mind. The kiss outside my building, his kisses to greet me at the club and how I felt nothing for him.

  “Yeah. Nothing exciting happened,” I lie.

  “That’s good to hear. Is Alice home tonight?” he asks.

  Shouldn’t he know already?

  “Yeah, she’s home,” I say as I watch my fingers console one another.

  “She’ll play nurse, I’m sure.”

  I giggle. “Yeah, that she will. She mothers me, you know.” I glance towards him to find him already watching me.

  He chuckles. “She worries about you. That I do know.”

  Clearly, they talk about me when they’re out on their dates.

  The engine idles outside my building. Though I know I should exit the car, I remain seated and await his direction.

  His tender fingers caress the side of my face. “Eva?”

  I turn my head to acknowledge him.

  “I meant it, I’m here for you if you need anything.”

  My tired eyes slide closed. The one thing I need from him, he can never provide.

  “Call me to let me know when you’re feeling better again,” he says.

  “Okay. Thank you,” I say before exiting the car.

  With faltering steps, I climb the stairs to my apartment.

  I can’t say I’m eager to endure Alice’s interrogation, but I must make my presence known. Once inside, I find her on the sofa, watching the television. Without removing my shoes or jacket, I drift over to her. She doesn’t acknowledge me until I sit beside her.

  “Oh, you’re home,” she says.

  “Yeah, I felt sick and started burning up, so Angelo took me home.”

  She reaches out and rests her hand on my forehead. “You feel a little warm.”

  Without warning, the tears fall once again, and I hide my shame behind my hands.

  “What’s wrong?”