Mobster's Angel (Mobster Series)

by Rachiele, Amy

  I feel Vito lean forward and gently tug my hair. I turn to him. He holds a lock between his fingers and waves it slightly. An unexpected shiver runs through me. I know that he is referring to the color.

  “I needed a change,” I tell him. He drops my hair and sits back.

  “Is your study group meeting today?” Vito asks, surprising me.

  “Yeah. Right after Composition. Why?” I ask.

  “Ronnie and I need a little extra study time. Right Ron?”

  “Oh yeah, we need loads. You have two new members,” Ronnie says proudly.

  “Huh?” I ask.

  “We’re coming too.”

  I turn in my seat to Vito. His face is unreadable. “You’re coming to the study group?” I ask in disbelief, originally thinking they were joking.

  “Yup.”

  Okay…

  As it draws closer to class time, more students filter in and fill up the seats. Kirk arrives and stops cold when he sees Ronnie beside me and Vito behind me. I attempt to relieve the obvious anxiety on his face by waving him over to the chair on the other side of me.

  “Kirk, right here,” I say.

  He slips into the seat warily. Faintly, I think I hear Vito growl from behind me. I turn around and his face is radiating annoyance.

  “Problem?” I ask.

  He shakes his head no.

  Ronnie pipes right up. “Hey, dude from Erin’s study group.”

  Kirk eyes Ronnie suspiciously.

  “Ronnie, Vito, this is Kirk.” I introduce everyone.

  Kirk acknowledges them without opening his mouth. Vito glares. Ronnie does a little wave. We sit for a moment quietly, awkwardly.

  Ronnie snatches my notebook off my desk and flips through it.

  “Hey!” I say.

  “Wow, this is really neat. Do you use a ruler to get these letters so straight?” Ronnie jokes.

  “Ha, you caught me,” I return and snatch it back from him.

  *****

  Even as we reach the library, Kirk is still stunned that Ronnie and Vito are joining us for our study group. I feel nervous. Ronnie and Vito in a study group? This is going to be awkward. The kids in this program are intense and serious about their educations. Ronnie and Vito, not so much.

  Amused, I watch Vito as he checks out the size of the library. To be fair, it is huge, and the ceiling bows out in round sections that are really neat to look at.

  “I didn’t know there were fuckin’ this many books in the world, let alone on campus,” Ronnie jokes under his breath to Vito.

  I lead us over to our usual study table. Kevin is there playing a game on his phone. He rumbles out a “What’s up?” and ignores us.

  “Erin?” a sharp little voice says from behind me. “Can I use your notes from science? I don’t think mine are good enough. I’d like to cross-reference what you have to what I have. I don’t want any surprises on the mid-term.” Kate goes on and on in her own world. “I wish they’d let us use those mini-recorders. I hate missing anything.” She stops and stares at the table. Namely, at Vito and Ronnie. “Um,” she adds.

  “Kate. This is Vito and Ronnie. They’re in Composition class with Kirk and me.”

  “Hi,” she says, switching from whiney to bubbly. I pull out my science notebook from my bag.

  “Here you go.”

  “I’ll work on this right now so I can give it back to you before you leave.”

  “That’s fine,” I say.

  Two more girls in the group show up. Everyone, except Kevin who is constantly on his phone playing games, gets out his or her Comp paper. The essay assignment is identifying the ways that Americans are wasteful. I open my notebook to a fresh sheet of paper.

  We start a brainstorming session. Kate participates even while checking her notes against mine.

  “Plastic bottles,” she says. “People need to buy refillable ones.”

  “Paper towels,” Lisa offers. “Everyone who uses them is killing trees.”

  “Throwing away unfinished food,” Ronnie tosses in to the group. I turn and smile surprised at his participation. I scratch everyone’s ideas down in my notebook. Our lineup of ideas isn’t all that bad. At least Ronnie and Vito are trying which is good.

  *****

  “Erin! Connor’s on the phone!” my mother calls to me from downstairs. I watch as three missed calls light up on my cell phone as I sit on my bed doing my Composition homework. All Connor.

  “I’m busy doing homework!” I yell back. Just when I think it’s over, I hear her outside my door.

  “Erin? Connor would like to speak with you.”

  I roll my eyes and crack the door to get the phone. I paste a phony smile on my face as I take it from her.

  Why doesn’t he just give up, already?

  “Hello.” I say.

  I doodle as he talks. I couldn’t care less about what he has to say. I never answer his calls or texts. As soon as my mom is down the hall, I hit the end button. Ass! I toss the phone onto my side table. I have even less tolerance for him lately after all the happened with Brice. Men suck!

  A minute or so later, the house phone rings again. Ugh! My mother’s feet pad down the hallway with purpose. She appears in my doorway again, scolding me with her eyes, covering the receiver on the phone.

  “Did you hang up on Connor?”

  “No.” I say with a straight face. “Bad connection.”

  Mom flicks the phone towards me and purses her lips in anger. Damn multiple-receiver cordless phones!

  “Take. It.” She is not happy with me.

  “Hello.”

  “Hey, Erin.” Connor says and it sounds weird-- his voice, my name.

  “Yeah.”

  “Umm... Wha... How are you?” he stammers.

  “Fine.”

  “Good. Umm. I was wondering if we could meet. I. Umm. Want to talk to you.”

  “Why?”

  “Uh. About us.”

  “You must be confused, there is no us.” My voice carries neither kindness nor sympathy for this jerk. Or as Antonio would say, chooch.

  “Oh. Umm. I want to see you.”

  “No.” I say coldly and click the phone off again.

  My mother materializes and asks, “Are you going to see him?”

  “No.”

  “Erin. That isn’t very nice.”

  “Are you serious? What he did wasn’t very nice! I don’t want to see him.”

  Mom sucks in her breath.

  “We had big plans for the two of you!” she reproaches.

  “What?” I ask, dumbfounded.

  “We hoped you and Connor might make a life together someday.”

  I’m stunned. The guy is an ass. He cheated on me. I can’t believe that this is why she’s forcing him on me. I am so done, I can’t even respond.

  “Look, I came home to go to school like you wanted, what else do you want from me? To marry Connor? Never.” I don’t allow myself to get agitated. I state the facts firmly. “I don’t want anything to do with Connor. I have homework to finish.” Mom walks away. She’s not pleased. I huff in frustration. She’s more worried about her master plan than the fact that Connor is a cheating asshole.

  Chapter 8

  Vito

  “Vito! Vito! Shit, man!” I crack a bleary eye and see the tall amber bottle of Jim Beam on the coffee table. I’m slumped over on the couch in our apartment.

  “Shut the fuck up... Ronnie,” I slur through a thick tongue.

  “Dude, you are trashed... and what the fuck happened to your hand? It’s fuckin’ swollen three sizes!”

  I punched a wall and shattered my knuckles, that’s what happened. Tonio is going to be pissed. It’s the only thing I can do with my body to let off the aching feeling that pulses through me constantly. I wish there was a medicine to make this go away - I would take it. I don't know what to do with myself. When she was away, it was a little easier. But now…

  I hear Ronnie rummage through the freezer to get an ice tray. I
ce cubes clink on the counter. My eyes are sealed shut from intoxication... and depression, I think. A sudden coldness near my hand rouses me a little.

  “Dude, hold this on your hand.”

  The ice stings as it touches my knuckles. My hand jumps, and I shove Ronnie away. The movement is almost more painful than the ice. I welcome the pain: it’s something else to think about instead whatever it is I’ve been going through. My stomach is empty except for whatever “Jim” has left behind.

  “What is wrong with you? You’re acting oobatz!” Ronnie barks at me.

  “Leave me alone,” barely makes it out of my mouth.

  “Dude! We’ve got to get to class!”

  “Fuckin’ go already then,” I garble.

  I’m in no shape to go, and I dread seeing Erin. With my luck, I’d puke all over the classroom. I hear the door slam. Ronnie left. Good.

  I’m not sure how and when I fell back to sleep, but a gurgling in my stomach soon wakes me up. Oh shit! I sit up and take off for the bathroom. I just make it to the toilet. A night’s worth of drinking hard liquor and part of my lunch from yesterday makes an appearance.

  When I’m done retching my guts out, I lay against the tile wall next to the porcelain princess. My hand throbs and aches. I close my eyes and moan, angry with myself for being so weak.

  “Vito!” I hear someone call my name. “Vito!”

  I don’t move, thinking it’s in my head.

  “Vito! Oh my God! Are you okay?”

  I open my eyes slightly. A fuzzy shape is in front of me. A person with dark hair... and eyes like an angel. A small person. Erin? It can’t be. No, this is a weird alcohol induced hallucination. My heart races, and I fear that I’m having a heart attack from all of the alcohol.

  The toilet flushes and the shower turns on. My arm is being tugged.

  “Can you stand?” I do as I’m told and lean against the tiled wall. The toilet seat and cover crash down and socked feet stand on it. My t-shirt is ripped up, over, and off my head. “I’m going to put you in the shower.”

  The button of my jeans loosens and the zipper goes down. This has to be a fuckin’ dream - Erin is taking off my pants. I feel small cool hands on my skin. Fingertips brush along my stomach and hips. I involuntarily shiver. I blindly reach my own hands out and wrap them around her back. Even my swollen hand enjoys the contact. She feels real.

  “That’s good. Lean on me,” she says softly.

  “What’re you doing?” I slur heatedly. I can’t help it. She’s turning me on.

  “Step out.” Erin orders, and I lift my legs one at a time out of my jeans. “The shower will help.” I’m standing in front of her in only my boxer-briefs. The tip of my tattoo is visible above the band of my underwear. I feel her brush her finger against it.

  “What’s that?”

  I ignore her and can’t help but concentrate on what is next to my tattoo, growing right now. Being half-conscious and drunk doesn’t help in this situation. If this were any other girl, I’d grab her hand and put it flush against my erection to let her know I’m starting to feel better.

  I behave myself as my sense returns slowly, and I allow her to put me under the hot spray of water. I balance as best as I can on drunken legs. It’s an effort to open my eyes, so I don’t even try. I let the water rush over my shoulders.

  “I’m going to wash you,” Erin informs me.

  Holy Shit! She’s trying to kill me!

  A light, delicate touch of fingers and suds moves along my chest, neck, face, and arms. It’s blissful; the soothing feeling almost sends me back into sleep. She gets to my hands and tsks.

  “Ugh, what am I going to do with you? This is completely inflamed,” she comments under her breath.

  Next, she washes my hair. No one has washed my hair since I was seven. She reaches up and I let her. She nudges me to tip my head back to rinse it. I can tell without even seeing her that she’s all business. The moment passes too quickly, and the shower turns off.

  “Hold on to the wall. Let me get a towel.” I hear her rustle around in the closet. A soft towel covers my head and she uses it to massage the dampness out of my hair. Then, she trails it all over my body drying the droplets of water. The wet towel encircles my waist.

  “Hold this.”

  She puts my hand over the towel ends to secure them and slips her hands underneath. Erin yanks my wet underwear down my legs. I step out of them and she tosses them aside with the rest of my clothes. I sway a little from grogginess and the high she’s giving me.

  “Come lay down.” I follow Erin down the hallway. She leads me by the hand like I’m a child. What I’ve got under this towel says I’m not a child, but I tamper down those thoughts.

  “I’m assuming this is your room.” Erin pulls the covers back on the bed and urges me to lay down. She tucks me in and turns to leave the room. I reach out and hold her arm, not allowing her leave.

  “Why are you here?” I ask.

  “You weren’t in class. Ronnie said you were sick. I had him drive me here.” She pauses and glances down and away from me. “I came to check on you.”

  “Thanks,” I say and let go of her arm.

  “You’d do it for me,” she says pointedly.

  She’s right, I would.

  Erin

  I leave Vito to get some sleep while I head off to clean up the bathroom. In the kitchen, I grab a roll of paper towels and some spray-cleaner from under the sink.. I wash the tub, the toilet, and the floor on my hands and knees.

  In the kitchen, I check out the refrigerator. I open the door and stare in. It’s very clean. Two guys live here? Plastic containers are stacked neatly on a shelf. Lasagna, meatballs, rabe. Nothing looks like appropriate hangover food. What do people eat when they have a hangover?

  I grab my phone off the counter and pull up Google. I type in the search bar hangover foods.

  Coconut water comes up.

  “Coconut water? Where the hell am I gonna get that?” I say aloud, amazed by the information.

  “What do you need that for?” a deep voice rattles across the room. I jump.

  “Holy crap! You scared me,” I say. “Why aren’t you in bed?”

  Vito walks slowly towards the couch. His bare chest glistens with a hint of sweat and his navy blue pajama pants that he must have put on to come out here outline his perfect… behind. I admire him again.

  Taking off his clothes in the bathroom was distracting. He is… well… beautiful: dark wavy hair, olive skin, and thick contoured muscles everywhere. With his height and build, if the Mob hadn’t worked out for him, he could have been a model.

  “Too hot,” he says, scrubbing his face with his hands.

  “Do you want some water?” I ask.

  “Yeah.”

  I grab a glass from the cupboard and use the water dispenser on the refrigerator. I fill it up and add a few ice cubes from the freezer.

  I walk to the couch and stand over him, handing him the glass. Our fingers cross on the pass, and I feel a jolt of electricity. It makes my heart thump and the area beneath my stomach tighten.

  “It’s not coconut water, but hopefully it will help.”

  A small rumble of a chuckle sounds from deep within his chest. “You know I wouldn’t drink that shit anyway.”

  I laugh too.

  “True. I’d have to use my superhuman strength, pin you down, and force it down your throat.”

  Vito laughs harder. “I’d love to see you try it.”

  “Hey! Joey taught me some great moves,” I say, pretending to be offended.

  In a split second, I’m off my feet and tossed onto the couch. Even with a hangover and having retched his guts out, Vito is strong and fast. I let out a girly squeal, surprised.

  If there were three of me, I still wouldn’t equal one Vito. I’m trapped beneath him, flat on my back on the couch. He smiles down at me, inches from my face.

  “Show me those moves,” he orders, playfully.

  I’m stunned a
nd immobile. “I don’t feel like it.”

  He scrunches up his face into a perplexed expression.

  “You don’t feel like it?” he repeats, mocking me.

  “No, I don’t.” I attempt to be convincing.

  He moves his hand. I know what he is going to do.

  “Don’t!” I tell him.

  He doesn’t listen. He trails his fingers over my belly and digs in, tickling me.

  “No! Don’t!” I say in a fit of laughter. I writhe and squirm, trying to get away. He tickles me relentlessly. I push at his shoulders, shove at his hands, and swish my back against the couch in trying to wiggle away. He’s just way too strong, and I’m laughing way too hard.

  A click from the front door halts us both. I look at the door upside down and Ronnie comes through. He stops, staring at us for a second. He blinks and closes the door. Vito lets me up.

  “Hey, how was class?” I ask, adjusting my shirt that rode up during my struggle.

  “Okay.”

  “Did you get the homework for us?”

  “Yeah. I wrote it down for you.” He pulls a ripped sheet of notebook paper from his composition book. He hands it to me. Ronnie is quiet for Ronnie. His face is stoic, and he’s not the bumbling funny guy he usually is. “Uh, Kirk said to call him.”

  Vito’s face turns from mirth to lethal in less than a second. I read the homework assignment and my phone beeps.

  It’s Antonio.

  I’m picking you up. B there in 5

  “Yeah, uh, I spoke to him a few minutes ago. He’s coming to pick you up,” Ronnie tells me, looking at the text over my shoulder.

  “Oh, okay,” I say, surprised.

  Chapter 9

  Vito

  A bang on the door let’s us all know Tonio is here. I get up off the couch to open it. When I see his face, his wrath is clear. He gives me a look that says it all. He’s fuckin’ pissed. He storms in, but changes his demeanor when he sees Erin.

  She gets up and hugs him.

  “You didn’t have to come here. Ronnie or Vito could have taken me home,” she says sweetly. It’s obvious that they have grown closer with the engagement and the wedding coming up. Tonio loves her like she was his own sister, not Megan’s.