by Lisa Cardiff
Marcello,
I’m sorry. I can’t marry you when everything is based on a lie.
Emilia
I stuffed the pathetic excuse for an apology into an envelope along with my beautiful engagement ring and wrote Marcello’s name across the front. If Sal forgave me, I wouldn’t come back here after tonight, and I owed Marcello an explanation.
CHAPTER
THIRTY-SEVEN
Wind whipped the fake blonde wig around my face, rain beading on the tips of my eyelashes. With every step in the short journey from the cab to my father’s bar, my breaths shortened.
I stood outside the employee entrance with clammy hands and enough uncertainty to make me want to crawl back to my house and raise the white flag of surrender. I steeled my spine and shoved the spare key into the lock. I needed to talk to Sal, and this was the only other place he might be on a Friday night.
My gaze averted and my black trench coat knotted tightly around my waist, I made my way down the hall to the main room of the bar. I’d never been here at night, and the sight in front of me made me uncomfortable in my skin. As stupid as it sounded, I didn’t expect it to feel or look like this during business hours even though I’d overheard countless details during my spying sessions.
Women in black booty shorts and sheer cropped tops strutted through the sea of men, their trays laden with glasses high overhead. Top forty hits boomed through the speaker system, mixing with the excited voices and laughter to create something resembling a roar. I looked wildly out of place.
Tugging on my wig, I used the brassy, wiry strands to obscure my face while I scanned the packed space for Sal. I stayed glued to the perimeter, praying no one would approach or recognize me. In hindsight, I should have stripped down to my underwear if I wanted to blend in.
I circled the room once, twice, three times, and my stomach dropped. It was official. I had exhausted all of my options. All of my calls to Sal went unanswered. I had stopped by his house, had a taxi drive me by his mom’s house, and nothing.
I slipped into a vacant red vinyl booth near the hallway to the private rooms, weighing my options. If I went home, Marcello would show up at my door bright and early to drive us to the airport. I couldn’t leave without talking to Sal. He’d been the light in an otherwise dark year. I’d leaned on him innumerable times. I had to find him. If he didn’t show up here by the time the bar closed, I’d camp out on his doorstep.
I loosened the belt around my jacket preparing for an extended stay when Sal’s unmistakable voice echoed down the hallway adjacent to my booth. While I’d only been down there a handful of times, I knew it led to the VIP rooms. My father claimed they were for business meetings or private parties. After seeing the bar in action, I suspected something far seedier took place in there.
Unsure if I should interrupt him or wait for him to come out, I hesitated until I remembered the exit at the end of the hall. If he snuck out the back door, I might not find him before my father found me. My mind made up, I trod softly along the amber-stained concrete floor, my heart soaring like a balloon with every step. When I identified his location, I flattened my back against the wall and peeked inside the partially open door.
Lettie was leaning against the wall beside a table, her tight red dress barely covering her underwear and her breasts heaving out of the plunging V-neck. Sal stood with his side to the door, his sleeves bunched up and his wavy hair sticking up like he had recently awakened. His suit jacket and tie were draped over the arm of a nearby club chair.
“You know,” Lettie dragged her red-polished fingers down Sal’s chest, “I couldn’t figure out why you wanted anything to do with Emilia when you could have me. I mean, look at her. She’s just a kid.”
I bit my lip to smother a gasp of disbelief. The excitement I experienced at hearing Sal’s voice and finding him twisted into something sinister and ugly. Sal had lied about his relationship with Lettie.
“Keep Emilia out of this.” He swatted her hand away. “She’s none of your business.”
“Oh, that’s where I beg to differ.”
“Let it go, Lettie. You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”
“Has Emilia figured out you’re a spy for her dad yet?”
My eyebrows shot together. What the hell was Lettie talking about? A spy? A freaking spy? That made no sense. Sal was my personal bodyguard until I left for Chicago. When would he have time to be a spy? Something was off here. Very off.
“It’s not like that. Emilia and I are friends.”
She snickered, a heavy dose of bitterness clinging to each cackle. Her flawless features were scrunched up into a sneer.
“Oh, I know it’s not supposed to be like that. Tell me, Sal. What would the all-powerful Dominick Trassato think of you banging his daughter? Because I’m pretty sure when he asked you to watch her, he didn’t anticipate you tarnishing his princess by sticking your dick in her.”
Sal slammed his fist into the wall next to her head. Drywall exploded, showering Lettie’s shoulder with fine white dust.
“Back the fuck off. You don’t know what you’re talking about. I haven’t touched Emilia, not like that anyway. We’re friends, and she has a little crush on me. That’s all. ”
“Oh, I know all about being friends with you. We were friends once and looked how that turned out.”
Sal rocked back on his heels and curled his bloodied fist into a ball. “Being with you was a mistake. One that I’ll never make again, so don’t go shoving that shit in my face. You have as much to lose as me if Pietro finds out.”
Stunned speechless, I slumped against the wall, not sure my legs would hold me. I begged my eyes to look away, but they refused to listen, and the scene in front of me only got uglier. Lettie ran the toe of her heeled foot up Sal’s pant leg, and bile crept up my throat. Lying pieces of shit, both of them. I couldn’t believe I felt even a flicker of guilt over what happened with Marcello.
“Uh huh, except now you’ve made another mistake. What do you think the punishment for fucking the boss’s daughter is? Death? Torture. Hm.” She tapped her finger against her ruby red lips, calling attention to the smeared edges. “Probably both, and don’t forget about your poor mom and brother. What will Dominick do to them? Your dad’s debt will be on your brother’s shoulders, and somehow I don’t think he’ll fare very well in this world.”
“You can’t prove a damn thing. It’ll be your word against Emilia’s and mine, and everyone knows you’re a liar. Besides, I haven’t done a single thing with Emilia that Dominick doesn’t know about.”
“Oh, really?” Lettie leaned forward, her lips curling up into a cat that ate the canary smile. “How would Dominick feel about the pictures I took of you two at the Christmas Eve party? Emilia on the countertop with her legs spread, her head thrown back, and you with your lips all over her neck and your hand up her skirt? Better yet, how would Marcello take it?”
My heartbeat accelerated, roaring like an engine in my ears.
Oh my God. Oh my God.
I was fucked. Sal was fucked. Wait, fuck Sal. He was an asshole. They all were. He lied to me, Lettie used me, and my father didn’t give a damn about me or he wouldn’t be plotting to send me with Marcello tomorrow.
Sal snatched her phone out of her hand and flung it across the room. It thudded against the wall and tumbled to the cement floor. “Marcello doesn’t give a fuck what she does as long as she walks down the aisle and says I do.”
“That’s interesting, because he certainly put on a good show at their engagement party. So much so that you ran out of there like your ass was on fire when he kissed her. And the way, his eyes followed her everywhere. That was pretty impressive if you ask me. If he was acting, he should audition on Broadway. I heard all about this too.” She brushed her hand over the bruise at his cheekbone. “Pietro couldn’t stop talking about how Marcello kicked your ass. But what do I know about men? I mean, I’m married to an asshole, and you stopped giving me the time of da
y so long ago I can hardly remember what it was like for a man to give a shit about me.”
“That’s right. You don’t know shit. This whole thing is about money. One-half of the Bonaccorso estate, which will be Emilia’s when the old man kicks the bucket.”
Her mouth fell open. “Seriously?” Sal nodded. “What does this have to do with you?”
“I haven’t done one thing with Emilia that Dominick doesn’t know about. Think about that.” He tapped his fingers against Lettie’s forehead. “Why would Dominick assign me to be his daughter’s companion? A guy not much older than her. A guy she showed an interest in.”
“How would I know what goes through that sadistic bastard’s head?”
“Dominick hates the Masciantonios, and he hates the idea of them ending up with all that money. He blames them for Ava’s death.”
“Yeah, so? Emilia doesn’t want to marry that guy. He should go tell them to pound sand. What can they do? Put a gun to her head?”
“Not unless he wants to risk going to war with the Masciantonios and the Bonaccorsos.”
“Who in the hell are the Bonaccorsos?”
“Ava’s family in Italy. She went by her stage name to distance herself from them. They’re one of the most powerful families in Sicily. She…”
What? My vision narrowed, and nothing Lettie or Sal said penetrated my brain. How come I didn’t know the truth about my mom? I always assumed she was an outsider, but she wasn’t. She was like me, the daughter of a powerful mobster who only wanted freedom. And that day in the park when that man mentioned the Bonaccorsos…Holy shit, no wonder my dad freaked out.
Sal’s voice snapped me back to the present. “Dominick thinks there’s a loophole, and that’s where I come in.”
Laughter exploded from Lettie’s mouth. “Oh my God. So you’re prostituting yourself and pretending to be interested in Emilia so, what? She refuses to marry that guy? She takes off? She gets pregnant? Tell me, what voids the whole agreement? What’s the end plan?”
My chest squeezed so hard it felt like everything inside was being sucked into a black hole and replaced with pain, anger, and so much betrayal. My vision spun and I splayed my hand on the wall to catch my balance.
Sal tipped his head to the ceiling. “If she marries me without her father’s consent, Dominick thinks the Bonaccorsos will back down.”
Lettie’s laughter came faster and harder. “Oh my God, and you volunteered to sacrifice yourself? Is this your grand plan to pay off your family’s debt to the Trassatos? You marry awkward Emilia and voila, your problems are solved?”
“Shut the fuck up, Lettie.” Sal yanked on the collar of his shirt like he couldn’t breathe. I hoped he fucking suffocated, and I wished she choked on her spit. “I should have never said anything about this to you. Dominick will cut out my tongue if this gets back to him. And it’s not like that with Emilia. I care about her.”
What. In. The. Actual. Fuck?
He cared about me?
I had lived a sheltered life, not by choice but due to circumstances beyond my control. Even I knew you didn’t manipulate people you loved or cared about. I stood rooted in place, unable to do anything other than watch the tragedy of my life unfold in front of me.
Lettie’s lips still twitching, she tugged on Sal’s shirt, and my stomach twisted. “C’mere baby. I’ll make it all better. Now that I know why you’ve been avoiding me for months, I won’t hold it against you.”
Part of me wanted to charge into the room and scream, yell, and claw at both of them until they were bleeding on the outside like I was on the inside. I balled my hands in anticipation of doing exactly that, then Lettie’s fingertips skidded across Sal’s heavily stubbled jaw, and all the fight seeped out of me. Nothing I did would change Sal’s feelings for me. I had to face the facts. My father had crafted this illusion to manipulate me for money. Jesus, if he had told me about it, I would have gladly given him what he wanted.
Inching backward, I covered my mouth to ward off the bile crawling up my throat with a vengeance. I’d heard enough to get the gist of what had been happening over the last year. I was a pawn in a game where I didn’t know the rules or the players, which left me with one option. I needed to get the hell out of New York tonight and away from all the people who didn’t care about me. Who saw me as a cardboard cutout without real feelings or emotions.
When my back hit the cold metal of the rear exit door, I pushed it open and took off down the street, running as fast as my trembling legs would go. My duffel bag pounded an erratic beat against the back of my thighs and my wig swung around my face. I stopped a few blocks away, bent over, and lost my pathetic excuse for a dinner along with the shots of Sambuca.
As I wiped my face with the back of my hand, a taxi barreled down the street and I stumbled off the curb, my hands waving frantically.
The driver pulled over and I climbed in the back.
“The bus station on 8th Ave,” I said, short-winded.
When he pulled into traffic, I popped the sim card out of my phone and tossed it out of the window along with all the burner phones Sal gave me. They probably had a tracking device on them, and I had no intention of being found until I was good and ready.
EPILOGUE
After a year and a half of moving from town to town, living in motels, renting random rooms, I found a place to call home. An ad in a local newspaper advertised a position for cooking and light cleaning that included room and board.
I almost didn’t bother showing up for my interview because I couldn’t take any more rejection. I was numb to everything and everyone, and I wanted to die. I had less than five dollars to my name. I had pawned the bracelet Marcello gave me two months earlier to fix my piece of shit car. The rent was due at the end of the week, I hadn’t worked in three months, and not for lack of trying. There weren’t a lot of jobs that paid in cash under the table.
Something forced me to keep going that day, though, and I climbed into my car. I promised myself if the job didn’t work out, I’d crawl back home, tail between my legs, and beg my father for his forgiveness rather than killing myself like my mom.
An hour later, I pulled up to the gates of a cattle ranch in the mountains of Colorado. Everything about the place took my breath away. Snowcapped mountains framed acres of rolling hills, cattle and horses roamed free, and smack dab in the middle was a sprawling two-story log home. The whole thing belonged on the cover of one of those outdoors magazines. Best of all, it was the polar opposite of everything I’d come from.
The rustle of the wind filled my ears instead of honking horns. Bright blue sky stretched out in every direction without a single building marring the horizon. It smelled of pine needles and fresh, clean air rather than exhaust and whatever restaurant was nearby. I loved it on sight. To my utter disbelief they hired me on the spot, and I gained a makeshift family in the process.
***
Gavin, my best friend and the son of the woman who owned the ranch, cracked open the door to my bedroom. “We need to talk.”
My shoulders sagged with defeat. I already knew what was coming. I managed the books and paid the bills. While the ranch wasn’t all that profitable in a good year, his mother’s medical bills were bleeding the Lancasters dry. “Yeah, I figured as much.”
He sat on the edge of my bed. “We can’t afford to pay you anymore.”
I swallowed but the action failed to do anything about the cotton building inside of my mouth. “Can I stay here for a couple of weeks until I find a place to live?”
“Of course. You’re welcome to stay as long as you need. I’m renting out your studio on the first of the month for extra income, but there’s plenty of room in the main house. We’ll come up with something.”
I lived in the studio apartment over the two-car garage, coming and going when I wanted and doing a million and one odd jobs for Gavin and his mom. It was the first time in years I felt like I had a real home, and now it was all gone.
“How bad is it?
Are you going to lose the ranch?”
Gavin strummed his fingers on his jean-clad legs. “Nah, nothing that bad. I’m taking out a second mortgage on the ranch. That should cover most of her medical bills. After that…”
His voice trailed off because he didn’t need to finish his explanation. His mom’s cancer was terminal. The weekly trips to Denver for treatment never managed to halt her decline, and no one, including her doctors, believed she’d make it more than a couple of months.
I covered my mouth, holding in all the emotions bubbling inside of me. I was losing the only family I had. Losing the woman who had become more of a mother to me than my own. Losing the only place where the shadow of the Trassato name didn’t hang over me.
Gavin pulled me into a hug, and I smelled that scent of hay and soap that always clung to him. “Hey, don’t cry, sweetheart.”
I squirmed out of his arms, not able to cope with the fact that this wonderful man who was like a brother to me wouldn’t be in my life anymore because I didn’t have it in me to drift from town to town living like a ghost. I had to go home and face my father. “Can you give me a minute alone?”
“Not happening. My mom would kick my ass if I left you by yourself. Now why don’t you tell me what’s wrong and we can talk about options? Preferably ones that don’t include you soaking the bedding with tears.”
I wiped my face with the back of my hand, likely smearing mascara down my cheeks. “You wouldn’t believe me anyway.”
“Give me a try.”
“You really want to know?”
“I do.”
I cocked an eyebrow, already feeling better with Gavin sitting next to me. He was so unlike Marcello, Sal, and my father. With his golden hair, blue eyes, dimples, and open smile, he reminded me of sunshine and happiness. “If you tell anyone, I’ll have to kill you.”
He lifted his thumb and forefinger to his lips and mimed locking them. “My lips are sealed.”