I nodded my head. “Yes, I would imagine it would be.” I stroked Daisy’s head as she whined softly in my ear. She rolled over on her back and I patted her tummy. She loved it when I did that, as all dogs do. “Listen, don’t be a stranger, okay? And if you could hand me my laptop, that would be great. I’m sorry, Adelaide, I don’t mean to sound cold, but I can’t afford this place on my own. I’m going to have to get on Craig’s List to find a roommate.”
Adelaide got my MacBook and handed it to me. I logged on and Adelaide sat down on the end of the couch. She started to pet Daisy, too, who was in dog heaven, having both of us giving her love.
“Um, before you get too in the weeds here, there’s something else you need to know.”
I raised an eyebrow. Adelaide was acting strangely, to say the very least. “What’s going on?”
“Your restaurant was, uh, burned to the ground. You no longer have a job, Bianca.”
I immediately sat straight up. “What? What do you mean, my restaurant was burned to the ground?” It wasn’t my restaurant, of course. I only worked there. But if I lost my job at this place, I was sunk. I had no savings whatsoever. No assets to sell. And who knew when I would be able to find another job in this economy? I was lucky to find the job I had.
Adelaide shrugged her shoulders. “Burned to the ground. Arson.” She immediately looked shy. “The whispers are, of course, that it has something to do with you. The fact that you work there. Do you know anybody who would do such a thing?”
I got up and paced the floor. Goddamn that Lucca, making sure that I had no access to the outside world the whole time I was held by him. I had no idea that this happened until right that moment. “Oh, God, Adelaide, it could be anybody. Anybody at all.” I shook my head. “Who’s going to hire me now? I mean, if everybody is thinking that I got this restaurant burned down, I would think that all the other restaurants in town wouldn’t want to hire me.”
Dammit. Most Mafia families owned a ton of restaurants. That was the best way to launder money. Not mine, though. No, my father didn’t launder his money through restaurants. He did it through investing in real estate and alternative energy, of all things. He was passionate about the environment, so he pretty much took his dirty money and made it clean through buying wind turbines and solar companies. None of his brothers or sisters owned restaurants, either. I was going to be like anybody else, looking for a job in a tight market, and that rankled. I was going to bring my baggage along with me wherever I went, too.
Great. This was great. Adelaide was moving out, and I was out of a job.
Ordinarily, I would know what to do. I would move in with Nico until I found a job. Or Izzy. Since Izzy wasn’t employed, she relied on my father’s money to get by. I chose not to do that. I wanted my own life, without my father controlling me. Izzy obviously chose to let our father control her, which is why she was accepting his money. As such, she lived pretty well – much better than I lived. She had an apartment in TriBeCa, she had a new car, and she had all the money that she needed for her Prada shoe addiction.
It was a trade-off, of course. Isabella might have all the money she wanted, but, at the same time, she was restrained in what she spent her money on. She had to submit receipts to my father’s accountant each month, and had to account for every penny. She was restrained in how much she could go out on the town, and she was restrained on who she could date. It was a miracle that she managed to date Robert as often as she did. I was always surprised that my father’s confederates never found out about that and reported back.
My father was able to control her by threatening to cut her off financially if she didn’t comply. So she always complied. And look where it got her – being forced into a marriage with somebody she didn’t know.
I never wanted my father to threaten me like that, so I chose to be financially independent. I chose to get my degree and work my way up to the job as sous chef in a four star restaurant in Lower Manhattan. I dated who I wanted to, with the knowledge that, if I didn’t want to be excommunicated from the family, I had to marry an Italian. But dating men who weren’t Italian was no crime, and I did. I was free that way. Much freer than Izzy. I could also spend money the way that I wanted to, even if I had much less money to spend than did Izzy.
“Well, I don’t really know what to do right now. I guess I could move in with Nico until I find a job.” I didn’t worry about breaking my lease with this apartment – it was rent-controlled, and there was a waiting list for it a mile long. As such, there wasn’t a penalty for getting out of the lease early.
Adelaide nodded her head. “I’m going to miss you.”
I smiled and patted the sofa next to me. She came from the end of the couch and then sat right next to me. “Adelaide, I’m going to miss you too. We’ve had some amazing times, huh?”
She started to laugh. “Yeah. Remember that one time when I brought that one guy home. God, what was his name? The really huge guy with the enormous head.”
I laughed along with her. “Yeah. I think his name was Edward or something like that, wasn’t it? Some kind of common name.”
“Yes, Edward, I think that’s right! Except he pronounced it Edvard. Maybe he was German. At any rate, he stayed the night and he…”
“Oh, right, right. I decided that night that I wanted to cook topless. I mean, I had a bra, but that was it. I think I was three sheets to the wind that night.”
Adelaide continued to giggle. “Yeah, did he get a surprise. He got to see not just my boobs that night but yours, too.”
I got out a bottle of wine and swigged it right out of the bottle. I passed it to Adelaide, who also took a swig. “Oh, and remember how we found our little Daisy? She was just a tiny little puppy behind the dumpster downstairs.”
“Yeah,” Adelaide said, scratching behind Daisy’s ears. “She had been in a dog fight and she was so scared. You and I spent the entire weekend taking turns bottle feeding her and tending to her wounds. She’s been such a love.” Tears were in her eyes as she kept scratching Daisy’s ears. “I love you little girl,” she said, looking right in Daisy’s eyes. She smiled when Daisy rewarded her soft words with a slurp right on her nose.
Adelaide and I talked through the rest of the night, passing the bottle of wine back and forth. That was our thing – we never used wine glasses when it was just the two of us. When we were out in public, we had manners which are good as anyone else’s. But we were much more informal at home.
“Oh, Adelaide,” I said at 2 AM, after we went through several bottles of wine and both of us were good and sloshed. “I love you like a sister. Like the sister I never had.”
“What about Isabella?”
I shrugged. “Ah, she’s a spoiled brat. I love her too, but, God, she’s spoiled. She’s spoiled, and, goddamn her, she’s marrying my dream dude.” I shook my head and burped. “I mean, he had me kidnapped and all, but he had to do it. And he’s totally fucking hot. But-“
“Wait, wait, wait,” Adelaide slurred. Her head was bobbing back and forth. “Some hot guy had you kidnapped? Back up there, chica. Start over.”
“Well, I was minding my own business when these three goombahs forced me into a van. Next thing I know, I’m in some rickety-ass dinky room and there’s this guy. This beautiful guy. Named Lucca. And you know, we almost did the dirty-dirty, and I wanted to, but we didn’t. And now he’s marrying my sister.” I started to cry. It was a drunk cry, so I really didn’t know if it was the alcohol that was bringing on the tears or the thought of Lucca marrying Isabella.
Adelaide’s head was still swaying, and it looked like she wasn’t really understanding anything about what I was saying. “Did you call the police?”
“No, no. That’s not necessary. He was trying to get to my father and talk to him, because old Benito is a bastard and old Benito was threatening Lucca’s men and stuff. Anyhow, nothing happened. But I think that he wants me, and I sure as hell want him.”
“The kidnapping guy?”
I squinted my eyes at Adelaide as I took another swig of my wine. We knew each other…
A memory. Me, a young girl, staying with my Aunt Leora in Sicily. I’m 10 years old, and there’s this boy. He’s a few years older than me. Maybe about 12. He’s riding his bike next to mine. He rides much better than me, but I’m trying hard to keep up. He’s cute, very cute, with shaggy brown hair that shaded his light-colored eyes. He’s deeply tanned and skinny. Tall and skinny. He was adorable, and I had an enormous crush on him.
We ended up riding our bikes to the beach and made sand castles. We picked up seashells and played in the water, me on my boogie board, him on a surf board. He taught me how to surf that summer, even though I was afraid of sharks. He laughed when I told him about my fear of sharks, and, one day, he scared the crap out of me by coming up behind me with a shark fin on his head. I hit him, hard, but that just made him laugh more.
I think that I spent the entire summer there with Aunt Leora. I found out later, much later, that the reason why I spent the whole summer with her was because my father and my mother were divorcing. Isabella was around three, Nico about 12, Stefano about 11. Only Izzy and I went to spend the summer with Aunt Leora. Nico and Stefano stayed behind in New York to help out my dad with his business. I spent that whole summer with that boy hanging out, having bonfires on the beach, exploring the mountains, and playing in the ocean.
God, that was so long ago….I could barely remember that boy’s name now, even though we hung out that summer. I could only remember the feeling of being with him, the feeling of looking at somebody and feeling my heart do flip flops for the very first time.
I forgot about that boy after I got back into New York, though, because I came home to find out that my mother and father were divorced. Not getting divorced, but actually divorced. My mother had moved out of the house and was already living across town. I wasn’t allowed to see her for years. It turned out that my father, of all people, got sole custody of all of us kids. Why he wanted custody of us, I didn’t know. He pawned us off on Nona, the maid, who essentially raised us.
I wondered if he remembered me.
Was that boy Lucca? If so, how come he didn’t remember me? He didn’t seem to, anyhow, unless he just wasn’t telling me. The only reason why I started to remember that summer was because I was drinking with Adelaide, thinking about old times and the first time we met, which was right after I got back from staying with my Aunt Leora.
“Bianca?” Adelaide said, looking at me. “What happened to you? Where did you go?”
I shook my head. “Oh, nowhere. Nothing’s wrong. I was just thinking about the summer before you and I met, and a boy I knew over in Sicily. That boy made me feel like this Lucca guy does now.”
She nodded her head. “Yeah, I kinda remember you talking about that boy. I don’t remember his name, though.”
I sighed. “I feel sick. I’m hungover already, even though I’m still drunk, so I feel like I’m about to puke.”
I got up and went over the toilet bowl and hung my head over the rim. I opened my mouth, and the chunks blew out immediately. “Oh…” I said. “Not good, not good.”
I came back out and saw Adelaide still sitting on the couch, petting Daisy, who still seemed content. “Come on,” she said, standing up. “Daisy here needs to be walked and fed.”
I sat down on the couch. “Do you mind doing it? I don’t feel so good.”
She smiled. “Of course not. I’ll be right back.”
After she left, I stared at the ceiling, thinking of Lucca. He wasn’t that boy, was he?
I tried harder to remember details, and something came to me, like a bolt out of the blue. I didn’t tell him my name was Bianca. At that time, I just went by my first initial, B. That’s what my brothers called me when I was little, and that’s what I told the boy my name was. I never went by my full name until I became more of an adult and wanted to stop being called B by everyone. That’s the name that the boy knew me by.
Lucca didn’t recognize me, but that might because he never knew my real name. That is, if he was the same guy as the young boy from that summer.
After some more thought, I did remember that his name was Lucca.
Lucca was my first crush.
No wonder I felt like I had known him all my life.
Eleven
Lucca
It was time to meet my future wife. I was in the car with Bianca and Isabella’s brother Nico, driving up to TriBeCa, which is where Isabella apparently had a giant loft which Benito financed. Isabella didn’t actually work, Nico had explained to me. She was trying to “find herself,” so she was doing “different things.” These “different things” consisted of opening up an Etsy shop and attempting to sell arts and crafts over the Internet. I guess that she also painted some, which was apparently inspired by Nico, who was a fairly well-known artist in the Village. Nico had warned me in the car that she hadn’t yet found her niche, and, at the moment, she seemed like she was spinning her wheels. Nico didn’t put it in those words, but I gathered that was what Isabella was doing.
As much as I wish that I was “forced” to marry Bianca, not Isabella, I was stuck with Isabella. At this point, there was no way that I could back out. If I did, who knew what would happen? Benito would be beyond pissed, and he probably would have me shot. Literally. And our deal would be off. I had to admit that it wasn’t a bad deal, at least for now. It would certainly protect me, which is what I needed the most. Until I had a few more years under my belt, and was more seasoned, I was going to need all the reinforcements I could get.
We arrived at the loft, and went in. There, in the middle of the enormous loft, which was sparsely furnished but had lots and lots of things laying around, was a young girl. She resembled Bianca in a way – same dark hair, same big green eyes. She was quite a bit shorter, though, and skinnier. She didn’t have the same voluptuousness that her sister had.
What she did have was a tiara on her head and a feather boa around her neck. Other than that, she was dressed normally – a blue buttoned-down shirt, beige pedal-pusher pants and bare feet. Her toes were painted a bright yellow. She had a paint brush in her left hand, and a canvas in front of her. She barely noticed Nico and me as we walked through the door. At least, she pretended that she didn’t notice us, but I did see her give both of us the side-eye.
I took a deep breath, hoping that I would feel the same way I did when I first set eyes on Bianca – like a bolt of lightning hit me. I felt disappointed that I certainly didn’t get that lightning bolt feeling, but she was pretty enough. Perhaps I could learn to like this girl as much as I liked her sister.
I looked around at all the things that were lying around the loft. In one corner were little dolls that were made of cloth. There seemed to be a hundred of them, all different sizes and hair colors, but the faces all looked the same. On a table were headbands with different kinds of glitter on them. Different colors of glitter, and some of them had little flowers stuck on them with glue. On another table were different kinds of jewelry – beaded bracelets in both solid colors and multi colors, enormous earrings that were made with clusters of little rhinestones and colorful plastic balls, and necklaces with different kinds of pendants.
On the floor were paintings. It seemed like there were hundreds of these paintings. The ones that I could see looked like they were painted by somebody who had some talent, but needed quite a bit more artistic training. They weren’t necessarily paintings that I could pay money for, but, perhaps, somebody would. I didn’t know who, but surely somebody would like them.
“Isabella,” Nico said. “I would like for you to meet Lucca. He’s the man who will be marrying you on Saturday.” Nico kind of nodded his head at her and she raised both of her eyebrows and smiled at me.
“Enchantee,” she said, giving he
r hand. “Lucca.”
I took her hand and shook it. She looked disappointed, as she glared at her father and then at me.
“What, you’re not going to kiss my hand?” she asked, seemingly devastated by the slight. “Nico, what kind of Neanderthal did our father choose for me?”
I rolled my eyes, suddenly realizing that, although I called Bianca “Princess,” Bianca really didn’t earn that name. I only called Bianca that because she’s a Mafia daughter and I was trying to be funny. But this girl…I had a feeling I was going to have my hands full with her.
She turned back to her canvas. “It’s very nice to meet you, Lucca,” she said, looking at her canvas. “I need to finish this piece of work. I have somebody who is dying to buy it tomorrow, so I have to get it done today.”
Nico cleared his throat. “Izzy, you haven’t sold a painting yet. What makes you think that we’re going to believe that you’re about to sell this one?”
Nico made a point. The painting that Izzy was working on was that of a small child. Unfortunately, the small child looked pretty deformed. Her nose was left of center, and her eyes drooped. Perhaps Izzy was going for abstractionism? I didn’t know. I couldn’t tell.
“Are you calling me a liar?” she asked Nico.
“Yes, I am. Now, please, Izzy, this guy is about to be your husband. He’s saving your ass. If it weren’t for Lucca, you would either be cut off by old Benito, or your sweet little butt would be shipped over to Sicily and your baby will be put up for adoption. Now, please stop being so rude and give this guy your attention.”
She glanced at me and raised one of her eyebrows. “He’s cute enough, I guess,” she said, shrugging her shoulders. “But he’s not Robert.” She stuck out her lower lip and rolled her eyes. “Why couldn’t Robert be Italian? Why couldn’t he just have stuck around? Our father would have grown to love him. I know it.”
Lucca: Azzarra Crime Family Book Two Page 8