by Amy Rachiele
Breakfast is very quiet. I don’t want to upset her and she only picks at her food. I notice her eyelids getting heavy. Our walk back to my room is even more awkward and silent. I don’t know what to say or how to act. I haven’t felt this self-conscious since middle school. I unlock my dorm room and throw my keys in a bowl on the dresser. Alessandra walks unsteadily on her ridiculously high heels. By my bed, she kicks them off and drops down on to the mattress with the weight of the world on her shoulders.
I go into the bathroom and close the door. For only a minute, I feel my privacy slip away. My normal routine is uprooted by this gorgeous woman lying on my bed. In any other situation, this would be a good thing. But whatever is going on inside her, and the fact she was dropped off here by the Mafia, rings like an alarm bell and smells like trouble.
I wash up and brush my teeth just for something to do. I crack open the bathroom door and gaze out at my bed. Relief fills me because it looks like she’s asleep. I sit at my desk and pull out my syllabus for English and decide to reread the chapter the study group was working on today. I start to feel tired too and this makes me realize my new bed is the floor. Should I get a blow-up mattress? Maybe I should go to the store.
The bed creaks with Alessandra’s restlessness. Her breathing becomes faster as she sleeps. I turn from my desk to check on her when she pops straight up shrieking—a piercing screech that resonates throughout the small room, zinging around in the tiny space. I rush to her and sit on the bedside.
“Alessandra! Wake up!” I shake her. Her eyes are open but glossy and far away. “Wake up!” She stops and looks at me, confused. Her eyes fill with tears, red with her arteries at the surface, distress and hopelessness in her face. I level mine with hers. “You’re here with me. You’re okay.” A deep sob caves in her chest and she doubles over—crushed from the inside out. She is curled up on my bed, clearly destroyed. I rub circles on her back with my hand. I don’t know what to do for her, so I just repeat over and over, “You’re okay.”
She settles after a few minutes, and I stand over her, on edge that she’ll pop up again screaming, when a very gentle knock sounds on my door.
I immediately go to it, opening it, trying to avoid waking Alessandra.
It’s Celia. Shit! I check my watch. Shit! How could I forget?
“Hi,” I say, squeezing my body through the small gap I make and shutting it behind me.
“Hi, Troy. I was wondering if I could come in.” She emphasizes the word in. I glance down at my watch again. It’s time for our biweekly romp, but I already have a girl in my bed. Normally, I would enjoy these types of problems. I would love to sneak away and relieve some tension with Celia in her room, but I’m not supposed to leave Alessandra. I have blown her off twice thanks to Vito.
“Ugh, a friend unexpectedly showed up. Another time?”
Celia’s face falls a bit in disappointment but she gets over it.
“Sure. I understand.”
“Thanks.” I pull her to me and place a swift kiss to her lips. I reopen the door and slip back into my room. Alessandra is sleeping peacefully. I sit back down at my desk to study some more.
Alessandra
It takes me a few minutes to grasp where I am when my eyes snap open. A musky cologne wafts to my nose from the pillow I am on. I like it; it’s masculine and fresh. I rub my hands over my face, feeling my mascara smudge from my eyelashes onto my skin in little clumps. I gaze around lazily at my surroundings. It’s dark in the room; a light is on by the desk. I hear the toilet flush and a minute or two later the door opens and Troy emerges.
“Sorry.”
He looks at me. “You’re awake.”
He didn’t hear my mumbled sorry so I say it again.
“Sorry.”
He’s perplexed.
“Sorry for what?”
“For screwing up your day.”
“It’s no problem.”
Troy walks to the bed and stands at the foot. He appears uncomfortable in his own space.
“And thanks for telling me I’m okay. Instead of asking me if I am.” Troy is totally confused and I don’t have the energy to explain it. So I change the subject. “What have you been doing all day?” I ask through a yawn.
“Studying,” he says as he moves to sit down at his desk. His computer casts a blue glow mixed with the white light from his desk lamp. “I ordered a pizza. It will be here soon.”
“I don’t have to stay here, you know. I could go to a hotel.”
“It’s not a problem. Mi casa, su casa.”
His voice gives away an unreadable half-hearted sentiment. I feel even worse for putting him out. I sit up and reach for my luggage, dragging it over to me.
“No, I can find a place to hole up until this mess is over.”
“No, you need to stay right here.”
“Don’t worry about Vito. I can handle him.”
“It’s not about Vito. If you’re in trouble, I want to help.”
Emotions in a completely raw state filter through me, making blurring pools in my eyes. I appreciate it more than he could ever know or I could even verbalize. This nightmare is a labyrinth I can’t find my way out of and the Minotaur is some fuckin’ crazy person.
“Troy!” A stiff knock on the door. “Dude, are you in there?” I recognize the voice, Troy’s friend Jake. I’ve met him before. Troy opens the door.
Jake’s a good-looking guy. He’s muscular in a slimming way, not bulky. His face brightens when he see me.
“Hey, Alessandra! What are you doing here?”
Troy answers for me. “She is visiting for a while.”
Jake’s brows furrow before he has a revelation. He has a goofy smirk on his face when he elbows Troy in the ribs. “Nice,” he whispers.
“No, she’s just visiting.” Troy isn’t convincing.
“How come you didn’t tell me you had something going on with her? After all this time, wow, you’re good.”
“No, seriously.” Troy defends himself and me. “Alessandra needed to get away for a while.
“Oh.” Jake drags the word out. “Family stuff?” He makes sure to use exaggerated air quotes.
“Sort of,” Troy responds, but he truly doesn’t know why I’m here.
“Well, take her tonight.”
“Huh.”
“It’s another kegger at the frat house.”
“On a Sunday night?” I comment.
“She’s not up for it.”
That shit pisses me off. How does Troy know how I feel or what I want to do?
“Can you stop speaking for me? I’m fine.”
Troy blinks at me, in shock at my outburst. “What time?”
“It’s going on all night. So whenever you’re ready.”
Troy shoots an annoyed look at Jake for encouraging me to go to the party.
“I’d like to shower first. Can you come back in an hour?” I ask.
“Sure. I’ll be back.”
Troy shuts the door and turns to me. I rifle through my bag looking for something decent to wear.
“Um. Don’t you think we should talk?”
“About what?” I inquire as I yank a black shirt out of my luggage.
“About why you’re here. About what’s happened. Do you need some time?”
“I’m fine.” I pile my clothes on my arm and go into the bathroom. “Don’t worry about me,” I add and shut the door.
I spend the entire hour in the bathroom taming my unruly brown hair and applying my makeup to try to conceal the bags under my eyes and the haunting despair in them. Troy and Jake are talking in hushed voices. I’m as ready as I’ll ever be so I come out of the bathroom. Troy tries to hide it but I can tell he’s impressed with the way I look. I walk over to the bed and slip my heels on.
“Wow!” Jake comments.
“It’s a shirt and jeans,” I deadpan.
“It must be the way you fill it out then. Watch out, the guys at the frat house have no filter and loose hands.”
“I think I can handle it.” I shrug my shoulders, not caring, because I am so numb that I really don’t feel like doing anything. A party, eating, or even sleeping right now would be an effort.
Troy pulls the car up to the curb and parks a few buildings away from the commotion. The front lawn is alive with cheering and teeming with people.
“What’s going on?” I ask, interested to know what these shirtless guys are running around for.
“The Gauntlet. It’s a drinking game,” Troy shares, shutting off the car.
“Looks like I’m late,” Jake mutters, popping out of the backseat. “See you inside.” He jogs up to the crowd. It’s rowdy, and different partiers slap Jake on the back or shake his hand. Jake must be pretty popular.
“Are you ready?” Troy asks.
I nod and open my door. He escorts me to the grassy area with a backdrop of the frat house. We melt into a group of guys and girls. It’s overwhelming and the music is blaring. There are so many people close together. People I don’t know. Everything is new to me.
Someone yells, “Go!” Through the bodies of bystanders, I see two guys racing and stopping short by a line of girls with beers.
“What are they doing?”
“They have to chug five beers.” Troy points. “Wrestle those guys over there, and if they win they have to fight the last man standing for the last run for the little Irish flag over there.”
I strain over the heads in front of me to see.
“Interesting,” I comment, really trying to get a good look.
“Whoa! Where have you been hiding this piece of ass, O’Connell?”
Behind us, a guy is stumbling and his eyes are glazed from intoxication.
I spin, shooting daggers at him, and spew, “Wherever you can’t find me, dick!”
“Oh, dude, she’s sassy and beautiful...”
“Kurt, why don’t you grab yourself a drink in the house?”
“Why don’t you go up there and hand out drinks when it’s my turn?” He takes a deliberate step toward me and drags his eyes up and down my figure. The little hairs on the back of my neck rise but I don’t let that deter me from letting this jerk have it.
“Do I look like a fuckin’ waitress to you, asshole?” I sneer. “The only way you’re getting a drink from me is when I throw it in your face.”
Troy gently slips his fingers under my forearm, nudging me to walk away.
“Chooch,” I mumble, sick of this guy’s shit already and I don’t even know him.
“Why don’t we go watch Jake?” Troy suggests, trying really hard to keep the peace.
But Kurt’s next sentence makes Troy’s fingers and body go rigid. I don’t know him too well so I’m not really sure how to read him.
“Wow! Troy, you have a serious bitch on your hands,” Kurt slurs.
Troy’s fist snaps out and clocks Kurt right in the jaw. No one notices the drunken guy thump to the ground, which is ridiculous because there are so many people around us. Everyone is too busy watching and hollering at the players in the Gauntlet. My mouth opens in shock. I grab Troy’s arm and pull him along toward where Jake is arm wrestling, leaving Kurt sprawled out in the grass unconscious.
“Nice,” I applaud as we mix into the crowd. “Smooth follow-through, your opponent went down fluidly. Have you been taking lessons from Vito?”
“Funny,” he deadpans. “Chooch? Vito and Antonio have called me that, what does it mean?”
“Jackass.”
A genuine smile spreads across my face. Troy pulls me close so that we are practically chest to chest. My heart races in surprise. He stares into my eyes, and then raises his hand to my waist and tickles.
“You better not call me a chooch,” he threatens.
“Never.” I laugh and try to slip out of his arms, to get him to stop. I am laughing so hard, I am losing my breath. He lets me go and we part. My skin tingles from his touch and I am left wanting it back. Our gazes lock and I notice how deep blue his eyes are. It reminds me of the first time I saw him. The butterflies he awakens in me feel good and feelings that are two years old flood back in a tidal wave.
Chapter 7
Troy
Something passed between San and me back then. It was there; I felt it. I thrust it down, though, because I thought there was more to my relationship with Megan, something deeper than friendship. But it was one-sided. I’m mad at myself for being so blind. I’m happy for Megan. I definitely want her to be happy, but I’ve never let her know how deeply it cut me. I had plans: finish school and marry Megan. I had my whole life laid out and it spiraled out of control as soon as Antonio Delisi, Junior came into it. My brother hurt Erin, her sister, and Megan hurt me. It’s a weird cosmic paradox.
This evening, I am at a party with a mob daughter who is under my protection. Why did Vito pick me? I didn’t mean to get in bed with the mob, they got in bed with me, and it doesn’t look like I’ll be able to get out and do a walk of shame anytime soon. I was sitting on the fringe of the Mafia world unaware. I’m not mad or upset. It is a surreal experience and one I gladly accept if Alessandra is a part of it.
“What are you thinking about?” Alessandra jerks me from my thoughts.
“Nothing… You know, Vito kicked butt last year doing this.” I motion to the guys sloshing beers down their throats in the Gauntlet, bare-chested and wild.
“Why am I not surprised?”
“In fact, I don’t think he lost. Erin was having an issue, so they left.”
“Vito and Erin are so cute together, it’s actually disgusting to see him swooping her off her feet, dragging her around like a rag doll as she laughs and giggles. It’s pretty nauseating.”
Alessandra shifts her stance as people creep closer, straining to see the action. I can sense her body stiffen as she stands beside me.
“Do you want something to drink?”
She nods. “Yeah, it is getting kind of tight over here.”
I lead Alessandra inside the house. People stop us to say hi, and I introduce Alessandra around. She barely acknowledges anyone packed into the four walls of the house and heads straight for the beer kegs by the kitchen. She grabs a red cup and fills it to the top, carefully holding the cup on an angle for more beer and less foam. Alessandra drinks it down quickly and refills.
“Oh. Sorry.” She stops mid-gulp and asks, “Would you like some?”
“Sure.” I revel at the skill she possesses in filling and drinking with the tap on the top of the keg.
She takes another cup and fills one for me, then finishes off her second beer to refill it for the third time.
“Maybe you should…” I’m cut off by someone yelling.
“O’Connell!” Kurt! He’s awake and really pissed. “What the fuck was that?” He is sounding much more sober. “A sucker punch?”
I’m stunned momentarily as Kurt stalks toward us.
“No!” I counter. “You were looking right at me!” I throw as much contempt into my response as possible. “You need to learn some manners!”
“Bros before hos, O’Connell!”
Searing fury creeps up my chest, and I want to fucking punch him again.
Wide-eyed, I stomp forward, reeling, my nostrils flaring. How dare he call Alessandra a whore!
Fingertips wrap around my arm.
“Don’t. It’s not worth it.” Alessandra’s eyes are glossed over because of the beer she has been consuming too fast. She has filled her cup again by the time Kurt has made it across the room to us. Everyone has stopped their conversations. All eyes are on us.
“You know. I think it is.”
I lunge at Kurt and we fall in a tumble of arms and legs. I haven’t been this angry in a very long time. Hurting him is on the forefront of my mind.
Getting the upper hand, I’m above him. He’s splayed on the ground below me and I let my fist fly, smashing against his nose. Immediately, it bleeds, sending red liquid down into his mouth and all over his neck seeping into his shirt.<
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“Shit!” he screams. “You broke my fuckin’ nose!”
Movement out of the corner of my eye grabs my attention. Standing above the both of us is Alessandra. Her cup is tipping up to her lips for a drink while her eyes glare down at the two of us. Her expression isn’t surprised or horrified; it’s bored, like she’s seen this kind of thing a million times.
The entire party has encircled us at a very safe distance. My focus returns and I calm down. I peer around because I sense a slew of eyes gawking at me. It’s quiet; even the music is turned off.
I’m one of those guys! I have crossed the line. I have turned into an asshole like Kurt. I am the one stirring the shit, making a scene, making the whole party uncomfortable for everyone. I have done the exact thing that I criticize others for.
“Are you done?” Alessandra is annoyed.
“Troy! What the hell!?” Jake takes hold of my forearm and hauls me up. Kurt’s hands are plastered to his nose where the blood is gushing out. A blond girl I don’t know hands him a tissue.
***
The ride back to the dorm is silent. Jake is pissed at me and Alessandra… she doesn’t seem mad or anything but she has a faraway look in her tipsy eyes. We get off the elevator and Jake goes straight to his room. Alessandra and I go to mine. I can’t take the quiet anymore.
“I’m sorry,” I confess.
I toss my keys in the bowl by the door and check my watch. It has barely been two hours since we left. Alessandra is in my mini-fridge taking out a beer.