“Is there any gas in that piece of shit truck of yours or are we going to have to first stop at the gas station?” he said as he took the keys from my hand reaching for the garment bag.
“Wait, why are we taking my truck?” I asked, wondering how much I actually had to drink.
“How do you suppose we get back to New York? We going to spread our wings and fly?” he turned around, mumbled what sounded like a bunch of curses to me, and walked out the front door.
I stood there half sloshed half mind-fucked. If I strained my brain it made sense that the three of them came here in one car why didn’t the four of us drive back together? That I couldn’t wrap my head around. It was probably wiser not to ask questions and just go with the flow seeing as how Anthony was currently on the rag.
I took a deep breath headed to the door, turning back to glance over my shoulder at the home I would leave behind. In that moment, I realized why my mother was so hell bent on moving from the home we had lived in with my father. Finally understanding her need to escape the demon's death left behind I stepped outside closing the door softly behind me. What’s that saying? When one door closes, another opens? So that’s what I did. I closed the door on my mother’s death only to open the one that would lead me down the trail of reliving my father’s.
“Wake up princess,” Anthony says, shoving my shoulder forcefully. I groggily blink my eyes open, realizing I must’ve dozed off on the ride. It’s not really a surprise being as how Anthony is a miserable fuck. Seriously, what happened to this guy? He used to be fun at least I thought so. He didn’t say more than two words when we started this little excursion back to New York. It’s no wonder I fell asleep.
I sat up straight and looked out the window. Grumpy pulled over at a rest stop and got out of the car.
“Where are we?” I asked, rubbing my eyes. I winced as the sun pierced my fully open eyes. Christ, I was going to be fucking blind.
“Need to take a leak,” Anthony mumbled before slamming the door in my face. Nice. I shielded my eyes with one of my hands and opened the door with the other. It felt as if my body had been beaten everything ached.
It was no use trying to catch up to Anthony, who was already inside the rest stop. I don’t know what the fuck his problem is. I stretched my legs out and my arms over my head as I glanced over at a sign. New York, 82 miles away. I groaned and decided to check out the newsstand inside the rest stop praying they had a pair of sunglasses. I made my way inside the newsstand, my stomach growled and I realized that I couldn’t remember the last time I ate anything. I grabbed a bottle of Gatorade and a bag of chips. The sunglasses were by the register so I made my way towards the counter and spotted Anthony paying for two cups of coffee. Bless his heart. I grabbed the first pair of sunglasses I saw not giving a shit what they looked like and pulled the tags off pushing them onto the bridge of my nose. The dark lenses acted as a mask as I balked at the wad of money Anthony produced from inside his jean pocket.
Anthony took the Gatorade, chips and the tag from the sunglasses out of my hands and handed them to the cashier. I forced my gaping mouth closed as my rich babysitter paid the girl shoving his wad of money back into his pocket when he was done. He nodded towards the bag the clerk had put my snacks in signaling for me to grab it while he carried the coffees. I was on a five-second delay mesmerized by the cash Anthony was carrying but managed to gather my bearings and follow him out of the rest stop towards the car.
Once we were both in the car I couldn’t help myself, it just kind of spilled from my mouth.
“You win the lottery or something?” I said before taking the lid off the piping hot coffee and sipping it slowly.
“Or something,” he ground out as he started up the truck. I placed my cup of coffee down on the center console and peered at him curiously.
“Last time I checked, I was the one burying my mother care to enlighten me on why you’re acting as if someone pissed in your cornflakes?”
It was becoming annoying to watch him and be on the receiving end of his foul mood. I didn’t want to be here either pal.
“You’ve been gone some time Val people change. You ever think that maybe this is who I am that I’m not actually in a bad mood,” he said without taking his eyes off the road.
I couldn’t remember the last time I heard someone call me “Val”. When we were kids, Anthony would call me Val all the time. That was back when my father was a God to me and Anthony and I wanted to be just like him and Victor. I actually embraced the nickname wore it proud and even thought I had the chops to be just like my old man one day. For many reasons the nickname didn’t sound so great to my ear’s anymore.
“Seems like a shitty way to live life. Being miserable and all,” I said. My words must’ve struck a nerve because anger grazed his features. If I thought he was intimidating before Anthony’s mad face would make me squirm in fact, I think I did you know maybe just a little.
“You don’t know shit about my life Val. So why don’t you do us both a favor and quit while you’re ahead,” he blew out a sharp breath and rolled his shoulders.
“Besides, you’re not really in a position to judge anyone considering the life you lead.”
I snapped my head around so quickly I thought I sprained it. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means in the last forty-eight hours. I’ve watched you screw a bitch that meant nothing to you and drink yourself into oblivion.”
“You left out the part where I had to watch my mother die.” Was he fucking serious? I’m sorry I wasn’t the jovial teen he remembered, but since my old man died, life hasn’t exactly been a walk in the park for me. I had every right to make stupid decisions. That was my story, and I was sticking with it.
“I took that into consideration, but something tells me you were living your life much the same before Maryann’s accident. Call it a hunch,” he said rather sarcastically and shrugged his shoulders for extra emphasis.
I tried to focus thinking about the days before my mother’s accident, surely, he couldn’t be right. Things may have been bad, but he was making it like I was an alcoholic who fucked random bitches to pass the days. Sadly, I couldn’t pinpoint a time when that wasn’t the case. I wasn’t always the selfish prick I am now, there was a time when I devoted myself to making my mother happy, desperate to diminish the sadness in her eyes, granted it felt like eons ago. I remember how proud she was cheering me on at my football games. I was a star player so if seeing me play made her smile, then fuck it; I was going to be the best football player out there.
I would’ve been too even scored myself a full scholarship on my football merits alone, but then I was injured during my first game. I shook my head, trying to erase the memories of the days that followed my injury. I tried to forget the doctor telling me I’d never play again, or the disappointment reflected in my mother’s eyes. Things just went downhill from there. I felt sorry for myself and began drowning myself in alcohol and random girls. I eventually lost my scholarship and we couldn’t afford to pay for school without it. I dropped out and went to work construction. Anthony was right my life was a fucking mess and I was just sailing through. The realization depressed me and I suddenly craved something, anything to take the edge off. I sipped my coffee and decided to turn the tables on the man behind the wheel.
“I didn’t know you were living the perfect life. Maybe I would’ve had you kept in touch,” I spat. “And don’t give me that played out line that the phone works both ways because I picked it up and called only you never answered. So, tell me brother tell me all about the beautiful life you’ve been leading.”
His knuckles turned white as he gripped the steering wheel tightly. “Don’t go assuming shit Val. You have no idea what the fuck went down after your old man passed away. “
“So, enlighten me,” I nodded towards the open road in front of us. “We got some time before we get back to Brooklyn.”
Curiosity ripped through me and suddenly I wanted to know
all about the people I left behind. Especially the one sitting beside me who remained silent.
“Oh come on Ant, just start with the basics. I won’t even go into deeper shit.” I ran my hands through my hair and tried to pick a starting point for this conversation. It was as if a lightbulb went off in my jaded head and I knew exactly how to get him to talk. “Adrianna. Tell me about Adrianna,” I insisted. “Tell me you came to your senses and made her yours.”
“No,” he said as if it was an automated response and I swear I saw a flash of regret overcome his stone cold features. He lowered his voice and I couldn’t tell if he was speaking more to himself or to me. “She was never mine.”
I probably should’ve tried to mask the surprise or the confusion that overcame me based on the sad yet guarded gaze he held but I couldn’t help myself. If I was a gambling man Adrianna and Anthony would’ve been my sure bet. “What? What do you mean no? That’s fucking insane man. I thought by now for sure you two would be married with a tribe of kids.”
“Just leave it alone Val,” he said in a clipped tone snapping his head to the right to eye me warningly. “I mean it. Any and all mention of her ends now,” he turned his attention back to the road.
I held my hands up in surrender, my eyes widening at his demand. “Okay, fine…,” I silently vowed to myself to uncover the reasons that Adrianna was off limits, wondering what exactly could’ve happened between them. I let out a heavy sigh before we shared a period of silence.
I stared out the window as the traffic opened and he began to drive faster along the interstate. The corners of my mouth curved as she entered my mind and I turned around to Anthony. “How’s little Nikki?”
He glanced at me for a moment remaining silent I suppose deciding what to tell me and what to omit. “She’s all grown up now not so little anymore,” he said, sounding proud sounding like a brother talking about his kid sister. “She went, to some fancy make-up school in Manhattan. Victor wants to open a salon for her, but she wants no part of it,” he shook his head showing me the faintest hint of a smile. “She definitely keeps that man on his toes. It’s kind of fun to watch.”
I tried to picture the little girl who followed Adrianna and me around begging us to include her in whatever it was we were doing I tried to picture her all grown up as Anthony described but I couldn’t.
“She’s got a boyfriend,” he grimaced when he says the word boyfriend. I raise one eyebrow curiously.
“I guess you don’t like him?” I asked inquisitively.
“I don’t trust the little fucker,” he said honestly. I waited for him to elaborate on his answer, but he didn’t. “Whatever. It’s none of my business. Victor doesn’t seem to have a problem with him and if he does, he’s never said a word to me.”
“Still, there has to be a reason you don’t trust him,” I probed.
“People usually flock to the girls because of who Victor is. It’s a shitty thing to say, but it’s the truth,” his jaw ticked. I could tell he was about to tell me something but stopped himself just in time. He shook his head, dismissing any thoughts that he was about to speak of. “Anyway, this kid wants nothing to do with Victor. He doesn’t even bother with him.”
I drew my eyebrows together in confusion.
“Isn’t that a good thing then? I mean he’s with her for her and not with her because of daddy dearest.”
Anthony shook his head not buying my theory and for the first time since our little reunion, I felt like we are having a civilized conversation. It felt like two friends catching up and not trying to resent one another. “Trust me, something isn’t right with him.”
I settled back against the seat remaining silent for a few moments as I digested what he said about Nikki. I felt his eyes on me but didn’t turn to face him.
“You’ll see for yourself,” he said, peering at me from the corner of his eye.
“Does Victor agree with you?”
It bothered me that I asked because I had schooled myself not to give a damn about Victor or what he thought about anything. Yet for some reason where Nikki was concerned, I forgot that Victor was my enemy.
“Like I said he doesn’t speak much about it, but I think he’s wary of him,” he cocked his head to the side in deep thought. I watched him for a few moments wondering what was going through his head. It was a losing battle trying to figure him out, especially when my head was a jumbled mess. I promised myself that I would keep a close eye on Nikki’s boyfriend and come to my own conclusions concerning him.
We passed another sign that informed us New York is now 38 miles away. I closed my eyes and rested my head against the headrest. I found myself trying to picture what Nikki looks like all grown up. I tried to picture her smile, sans her braces. Does she still wear her hair pulled back in a braid? Is her voice still on the whiny side? I labeled myself a pervert when I began to wonder what her measurements were molding her in my head to have a tiny waist, hips to hold onto and a rack to bury my face in. In my sick head, she has no face though because all I see is the little girl with braces smiling up at me with a body to die for. Yeah, I’m a twisted fuck.
Chapter Three
Note to self—partying all night with your boyfriend the night before you have to drive out to North Jersey to apply make-up on a crazy bride and her twelve bridesmaids is not a good idea. Actually, it’s probably the worst idea I’ve ever had because now I’m running on no sleep and have to sit through Sunday dinner with my parents. Usually, I look forward to Sunday’s. Mom goes all out on Sunday’s because it’s the only day of the week dad makes sure “business” doesn’t come first. You know there are no shakedowns or illegal gambling just some good old-fashioned family time at the Pastore house. You should know that I’m rolling my heavily lined eyes as I say this.
I don’t want to come off as if my family and I aren’t tight or that I don’t adore my father because that isn’t the case. I resent my father’s choices sometimes. You see it’s not easy growing up having your father’s picture plastered on the front page of the newspaper time after time. I was ten years old when I learned my father was the head of an organized crime family. On Career Day at school, I told everyone he was a business owner. Yeah, the joke was on me. I probably would still think he was just a simple business owner of a few nightclubs had it not been for Mikey’s dad Uncle Val dying so brutally. After Val died, the cat was out of the bag. There was no denying who my father was.
My teenage years were extremely difficult. On top of the normal angst a teenage girl goes through I had to deal with the backlash of who my father was. It was hard to make friends because most people my age only wanted to be friends with me out of fear. “Be nice to the gangster's daughter you never know when we might need to call in a favor.” Forget about having a boyfriend. There were two kinds of guys I attracted. First, there were the ones that scared easily. They would pick me up for a date and if my dad or one of his goons looked at them funny that was that they ran for the hills. The second was the guys who dated me because they thought my father was Jesus Christ reincarnated. They worshiped him and figured dating daddy’s little girl gave them a foot in the door when it came to the glamorous life of the mob. Stupid fuckers what’s glamorous about the Fed’s raiding your house on Christmas morning? Or maybe the glamor part is when your dad’s best friend is killed and then the only true friend you and your sister ever had moves away because his mom can’t bear the sight of our family. Yeah, so fucking glamorous.
Even now at twenty years old, I find it hard to let people into my life. I want people to see me for me, not for who my father is. That’s why I’m lucky I met Rico. He loves me for who I am and not for what my father might someday do for him. To be honest Rico doesn’t even seem to care who my father is. I think that’s the most attractive quality about him. He’s not intimidated by Victor Pastore, not in the least. He’s a keeper in my book.
“Mom, I’m home!” I shouted as I entered the house. I kicked the door shut with the heel of my boot as
I wheeled my traveling makeup case inside. I leaned it against the wall deciding to take it upstairs to my bedroom when I can feel my toes again. Another not so smart idea was wearing leather stiletto boots when it snows. My pinky toe may actually be frost bitten.
“We’re in here,” my sister called from the living room. Her voice sounding nasal as if she had been crying. I shook my head as I took my jacket off. I hated that my sister was in a fucked-up relationship if one would even consider what they have a relationship. Adrianna’s ex-boyfriend Vinny is a douche bag. I will admit he had us all fooled for a while thinking he was a good guy. My parents, who are pretty old school even, accepted my sister’s unplanned pregnancy with open arms. It probably helped that Vinny promised my dad, he’d marry Adrianna once he passed his Series Seven. Yeah, big boy was studying to be a stockbroker only he got a little too acquainted with the nose candy and instead of becoming a licensed broker, he became a junkie whose biggest accomplishment is his stints in and out of rehab. The low-life isn’t even a father to my adorable nephew Luca. I wonder what the dick head did this time.
The first thing I noticed was that Adrianna wasn’t the only one crying our mom was too. I felt my pulse quicken as I looked back and forth between their grief-stricken faces. That’s another downfall to your father being a mobster. There is always that possibility that someone will clip him. Let’s be honest, my father is walking around with a big target on his back, which is attached to a pretty fat paycheck to whoever it is that finally takes him down. I swallowed the lump in my throat.
“What’s wrong? Did something happen to…,” my voice trailed off and I couldn’t continue with my question.
“It’s not daddy,” Adrianna said softly, taking a deep breath. “Sit down Nikki.”
I let out the breath I hadn’t even realized I was holding and slip into the oversized armchair across from them.
The Tempted Series: Collectors Edition Page 3