Daddy shakes his head at me. “I was talking to Larry downstairs and he said that Moretti kid’s no good. He got taken away to jail the other day. For a knife fight. You know that, Nancy?”
I blurt out, “That was his brother.”
“Same difference,” Daddy snorts. “The father’s a gangster, the brother’s being hauled off by the police… they’re a bunch of Guido hoodlums.”
“Bill,” Mom murmurs. She looks embarrassed. “Nick is a nice kid. I’ve seen him around town and he’s very polite. He always walks Jessie home.”
Now I understand why Nick was so upset about people talking about his brother. To them, if his brother is a loser criminal, so is he. Even though nothing could be further from the truth. Nick gets all A’s in school, and he’ll never go to jail.
“Nick’s never in trouble,” I tell my father. “He’s one of the best students in our grade.”
I can tell I’m wasting my breath. Daddy has already made up his mind about Nick not being a good kid. There’s nothing I could possibly say to convince him otherwise.
“I don’t want to see you around this Moretti kid anymore, Jessica,” Daddy growls, the red color on his neck creeping up into his face.
I bite my lip. “Daddy, please…”
“It’s for your own good,” he says. “What are people going to think about you if they see you hanging around with a hooligan?”
“I don’t care what they think,” I say.
My father stares at me, the red having officially invaded his cheeks. Like I said, I never talk back to him. When he yells at me about French, I just tell him over and over, Yes, Daddy. I promise I’ll try harder. Usually, I’m happy to agree to anything he wants just to avoid upsetting him. This is the first time he’s gotten worked up over something I care about.
“I don’t want to see you with him again,” Daddy hisses at me, all six foot two inches of him hovering over me. I look away from him and he grabs my wrist. His thick fingers bite into my skin. “Do you understand me, Jessica?”
My wrist burns with pain. In fifteen years, my father has never hit me. He’s never laid a finger on me. I can’t say the same for my mother, although I’ve never seen it happen. I’ve seen the way she flinches when he raises his voice. I’ve heard crashes in the living room when Daddy came home late from the bar, followed by the sounds of Mom’s soft sobs. Then the purple bruise around her eye the next day, which means she won’t leave the house till it fades enough that she can cover it with makeup. It doesn’t happen often—maybe a couple of times a year—but it scares me to know he’s capable of that.
And there’s nothing to stop him from doing it to me.
I can’t find the breath in my throat, so I just stare into my father’s hard blue eyes while his fingers tighten around my wrist. “Do you understand me, Jessica?” he repeats. “Answer me, goddamn it!”
My eyes fill with tears, but I’m not sure if it’s from the pain or from what he’s asking me to do. “Yes,” I manage.
He studies my face for a minute before releasing my wrist. Every single one of his fingers is outlined in red on my forearm. I look over at my mother, who is looking away, her own eyes filled with tears.
Chapter 8
Nick
I never been in as good a mood as I am after I kissed Jessie. I can’t stop thinking about it all the way home. And I remember what I thought the first time I saw her that day in Mrs. Leary’s classroom:
I’m going to marry this girl.
It seems crazy to me, but at the same time, I still want it to happen. It’s two years later, and I don’t want it any less than I did when I first saw her. I want it more, if that’s possible.
When I get home, I see Pop sitting at our dining table with Jack Kahn. Jack has been our family’s lawyer for the last five years, and he’s gotten to be part of the family. Ma is always inviting him for dinner and trying to fix him up with “a nice girl.” That’s another piece of advice Pop gave me:
A good lawyer is worth all the money in the world.
We trust Jack. When Tony’s in the joint, he’s the one we call. But more than that, he’s the main lawyer Pop uses for his business dealings. Getting Tony out of a jam is easy—the other stuff’s not as easy.
Based on the fact that Tony was sprung from his cell this morning, I’m guessing Jack is here to discuss business. I see the stack of papers in front of them, and that confirms it. Pop’s business is in properties. He owns lots of them all over the city. He makes lots of money from rent or selling them at a profit.
“Hey, Nico!” Jack waves enthusiastically at me. He’s maybe in his mid-thirties and in good enough shape to play basketball with me sometimes. He makes some decent shots for an old guy.
“Hey, Jack,” I say. I approach the table. “What are you talking about here?”
“Business.” Pop waves his hand at me. “Boring stuff. Go do your homework.”
Boring? No way is this boring. I want to know everything there is to know about Pop’s properties.
“I want to know how we do business,” I say.
Pop looks me over. Over the last year, I’ve gotten as tall as he is, but when he stands up, it still feels like he towers over me. He’s one of those guys who you gotta shut up and listen to when he talks. Most of the time, he’s just Pop, but when he gets that dark look in his eyes, people do what he says. I want to be like that someday.
“You’re too young,” he finally decides.
Despite the high I’m on since kissing Jessie, it makes me feel lousy when he says that. I don’t want to be too young. Also, I don’t want him thinking about how I’m younger than Tony. No way Tony should take over the family business. Tony would run it into the ground. Pop’s got to know that. “Pop…”
“This summer,” he says. “You come work with me. I’ll show you some things. Okay, Nico?”
This summer I’m going to work for my father. I smile so big that Jack and Pop laugh, but I can’t help it. This is what I’ve always wanted. Pop and me—working together, running the business as a team. Me being his equal. Someday.
I leave the room because I want to do everything Pop says, make sure he trusts me. But I don’t leave entirely. I wait in the hall, my Jansport backbag on the floor, listening to what they say. I do all the things Pop tells me to do, but I don’t do everything he tells me to do. If you know what I mean.
“Nico’s getting really big,” I hear Jack saying. “He’s almost not a kid anymore, Angelo.”
“Don’t I know it,” Pop snorts.
“He’s a good kid though.” Jack lowers his voice and I have to strain to hear him. “He’s got a good head on his shoulders. But, you know, Tony’s older…”
“Antonio can’t make a good decision to save his life,” Pop says. “I don’t care if he’s older. Nico’s the one I want to start learning the business. Let Tony run around with his loser friends. Nico will be responsible. He’s the one.”
I’m the one. I’m the one. My brother’s antics have been hard enough to deal with, but one good thing has come out of it. I’m the one Pop trusts.
This could be the best day of my life.
_____
Jessie is quiet today. After we kissed yesterday, she was singing to herself the whole way home. That’s something Jessie does when she’s happy—she sings. I don’t even know half the songs she’s singing, except for that one about the total eclipse. It doesn’t matter—I love the sound of her voice. I could listen to her sing all day, I don’t care what.
We hold hands on the way home, but I don’t kiss her. I want to, but somehow the moment don’t seem right. I’m chickening out again. It’s hard with Jessie because I like her so damn much.
“Everything okay with you?” I ask her when we’re maybe three blocks from her building.
Jessie manages a thin smile and brushes a strand of golden hair away from her face. As she does it, her sleeve slips down and I notice she’s got bruises all over her wrist. I never seen bruises on Jessie b
efore.
“Where’d that come from?” I ask, pointing at her wrist.
Jessie looks down at her arm and tugs her sleeve down so I can’t see no more. “Nothing. I just bumped it.”
“It don’t look like you bumped it.”
She gives me a look. “What are you—a detective?”
I get this bad feeling in the pit of my stomach. It’s the same bad feeling I get when the cops pound on our door in the middle of the night. I try to figure out who must’ve given Jessie those bruises. It makes me angrier than I ever been, but since she’s not talking, I push it out of my head.
“Come here, Jessie.” I tug on her arm—the good one that isn’t covered with bruises. I pull her close to me, leaning in for a kiss. But just as my lips touch hers, she pulls away.
“Not here,” she says anxiously. She’s looking left and right, behind her shoulders. “Someone could see.”
I frown at her. “Who’re you worried about seeing?”
Jessie grabs at her arm, the one with the bruises. I see her looking to the right, off into the distance. I follow her gaze and that’s when I see him. Coming right at us.
Mr. Schultz. Jessie’s dad.
I seen Mr. Schultz around the neighborhood a couple times. He’s a big German guy—tall with lots of muscles. He looks like he’d handle himself good in a fight, and I overheard a story about him getting kicked out of a bar. Pop said it to my mom when they thought I was asleep. But since I never set foot in Jessie’s house, I never officially got introduced to the guy.
I figure that’s about to change.
“Jessica.” Mr. Schultz’s usually ruddy cheeks are bright red and it’s not from the cold. “What did we talk about yesterday? You promised to stay away from this… this gangster.”
My hands ball into fists. I’m no gangster. This has got to be Tony’s fault.
“Daddy…” Jessie murmurs.
She’s rubbing her wrist again. He did this to her. He’s the one who gave her the bruises. I want to kill him.
Mr. Schultz turns to look at me. He’s bigger than me—a lot bigger. He’s got maybe four inches on me and at least fifty pounds. I may have learned to fight from Tony, but not good enough to take on a guy that much bigger than me. He’s not afraid of me like the other kids in town are.
“Listen, you little shit,” he says to me. “I want you and your mobster family to stay the hell away from my daughter. You got me?”
I take a breath, trying to calm myself down. I’m not going to take a swing at this guy, even though I want to. That’s the kind of dumb thing Tony would do. Even Tony isn’t a good enough fighter to take on this guy.
“It’s Jessie’s decision,” I say.
Mr. Schultz raises his light brown eyebrows at me, like he’s surprised by my nerve. He glances over at Jessie, who is cowering on the sidewalk, her eyes darting between us. “Jessica, go home. I want to talk to him alone.”
Jessie looks at me. Her blue eyes are huge. “I… I want to stay.”
I shake my head at her. “It’s okay, Jessie. Just go.”
She looks between us, not sure what to do. She bites her lip before she turns on her heel and walks slowly in the direction of her building. I watch her gold hair blowing in the wind. I don’t know if I can give her up. He might have to kill me first.
When Jessie’s out of earshot, Mr. Schultz turns his attention back to me. He slings an arm around my shoulders and leans in so close that I can smell a trace of whiskey on his breath and also something else. Something stale. I know I’m gonna remember his breath forever.
“Listen, Moretti,” he says in a low voice. “I’m not stupid. I know all about you and your family. Jessie may not believe it, but you and I—we know the truth.”
“I never did anything wrong, Mr. Schultz,” I say.
And that’s the truth.
Mr. Schultz snorts. He looks at me with his watery, bloodshot blue eyes. “I know I can’t keep you from getting to Jessie. I know that teenage girls always want the guy their parents hate. I get it.”
I just look at him, not sure where he’s going with this.
“But what you have to understand, young man,” he says, “is that Jessica lives with me. She lives under my goddamn roof. I feed her, I clothe her, and I keep her safe. She might like the way you look, but the fact of the matter is that while she’s living with me, I can make her life good or I can make her miserable.” He raises his eyebrows at me. “You get me, Moretti?”
My heart is pounding in my chest. I feel sick. The worst part is he’s right. While Jessie is living under his roof, he can do just about anything he wants to her. He can make her life miserable.
I think about the bruises on her arm.
Shit.
“Stay away from my daughter,” he says. “Don’t touch her again and we won’t have a problem.”
I love Jessie. But at this moment, I realize that if I really love her, the best thing I can do for her right now is stay away. At least until we’re eighteen and this asshole is out of our lives forever.
I’ve waited a year. I can keep waiting.
Chapter 9: Spring, 1996
Jessie
“So what do you say, Jess? You free Saturday night?”
Evan Thompson has cornered me outside my eighth period English class. I’m leaning against the lockers, a combination lock digging into the small of my back. Evan is standing in front of me, blocking any chance of escape. But I’m not sure if I want to escape. Evan is cute—objectively cute. He’s got reddish brown hair with bleached tips that’s cut just like Kurt Cobain’s, and he’s rocking a flannel shirt over his Green Day T-shirt and ripped jeans. Chrissy has made complimentary comments about his buttocks on multiple occasions.
He’s just not Nick Moretti.
Then again, nobody is.
Two years ago, Nick gave me my first kiss. It was the most amazing thing I’ve ever experienced in my entire life. Then my father took him aside and had a talk with him, and Nick refused to touch me again. He wouldn’t admit exactly what Dad said to him, but I can imagine.
I spent a lot of time listening to “Total Eclipse of the Heart” over the next several weeks, and every time I listened to it, I cried. Maybe it sounds melodramatic, but I finally understood what a total eclipse of the heart was. Every time Bonnie Tyler sang, “I don’t know what to do and I’m always in the dark,” I’d burst into tears.
I didn’t speak my father for three whole months after that.
It took six months for boys to start asking me out after Nick backed off. At first, I was telling them no, but then I saw Nick at Tommy’s Pizza with Allie Ruggiero, and I decided if he was going to move on, so was I. So I’ve been on few dates since then. They’ve all been variable degrees of terrible.
Evan is smiling nervously at me, waiting for an answer. I shift against the locker and the dial on the combination lock stabs me hard. “Okay,” I say.
Evan does a fist pump. It’s cute.
Nick isn’t the only guy in the whole world. Maybe Evan will be my first real boyfriend. You never know. It’s about time—I’m already a junior in high school. Chrissy’s already had like a million boyfriends. While I’m daydreaming about a guy who won’t touch me.
Today I’m not going straight home after school because I’m going to do something I never thought I’d do before. Our high school is putting on a production of West Side Story, and I’m going to be trying out for the role of Maria. I don’t think there’s any chance in hell that I’ll actually get it—they always cast the popular kids in the plays because the casting is mostly done by other students, so it just becomes this big popularity contest. But I tape-recorded myself singing in my bedroom the other night, and it sounded actually… really good. So I’m going to try out. For fun.
Except now that the audition is imminent, it doesn’t seem quite so fun. I can’t stop sweating.
The tryouts are being held in the auditorium, so I make my way over there just in time to see Lucy Monteir
o taking the stage. Lucy is one of those gorgeous girls with thick, silky black hair and almost comically big tits on a skinny body. There’s a rumor that Lucy got a boob job, but I don’t think she did. I think some people are just that lucky. I’ve got big boobs, but the skinny body not so much.
Lucy starts belting out “I Feel Pretty.” I slink down in a seat in the back to watch her. She’s okay. She has a decent voice, but she falls flat on a few of the higher notes. Still, she gets a huge round of applause when she finishes. I practiced the same song last night and felt like I was hitting on the notes, but who knows?
“Jessica Schultz!” calls out a student in the front.
Me? I’m next? Oh God, I didn’t think I’d be going so quickly. I thought I’d have at least another half hour to psych myself up for this. I can’t be freaking next!
“Jessica Schultz?”
“I’m here!” I call out as I scramble out of my seat. I wave my arm around in case they missed me. “I’m here. I just… I’ll get up on the stage.”
Then I nearly trip on my way down to the stage. I catch myself at the last second, but it’s an omen. I’m going to screw up this audition. Bad. I just know it.
I get up onstage, and it’s so bright up here. They must have every light on and pointed at me. It’s also a million degrees on the stage. I feel myself starting to sweat. I haven’t even opened my mouth yet and I’m already a mess.
“You’re trying out for Maria?” The student leading the auditions is a boy I recognize as Derek Kramer. I’ve seen him following Lucy Monteiro around the hallways on more than one occasion. I’d bet a million dollars that even if I sound like Celine Dion, Lucy will end up with the role of Maria.
It takes some of the pressure off, actually.
“That’s right,” I say. “I’m going to sing ‘I Feel Pretty.’”
Even though I’m not pretty. Not compared with Lucy Monteiro.
I take a deep breath. There’s no music in the auditorium, but that’s fine because most of the time when I sing, there’s no music. I don’t need music. It’s just a distraction.
The Girl I Didn't Marry Page 4