Dynasty

by Jen Davis et al.

  Dad speaks quickly in Italian and again, I think the dialect is really different because I can’t understand much of it. Finally, he says, “Let us thank God for gathering us here tonight. And now, let us eat.”

  Chapter 37

  Caterina

  Once we pray and start eating, it’s like all the seriousness has faded away. Laughter and chatter fill the whole house, like it’s meant to. People pass food to one another and across the table. The kids at the other table squeal and giggle and play food games.

  It looks like a Christmas dinner.

  It feels like a Christmas dinner.

  Everyone seems happy.

  Dad speaks quietly to the men near him at the table. Mom gives him a reprimanding look and turns back to her conversation. “So I tell him that for my birthday I want a lap dance…”

  The women burst out laughing.

  Dad grins at her.

  He lets the serious talk go.

  For now.

  Fran, like me, simply observes everyone.

  I rip a piece from my steak, and inhaling the wonderful smell, shove it into my mouth. It takes everything in me not to moan. The meat is juicy and cooked to perfection. The salt and spices melt perfectly in my mouth.

  Suddenly she turns toward me and says out of the blue, “Has anything been happening at school, Kitty?”

  I stop eating my steak and turn my head toward her curiously. “Why do you ask?”

  She licks her lips and takes a sip of her water. “Just wondering.”

  I speak slowly and quietly so no one can hear. “Actually yes…there is a boy…”

  I expect more surprise on her face. Everyone in the whole god darn world knows I’m not allowed to see boys outside of school, let alone date.

  Instead, she raises a mere eyebrow and says, “A boy, huh?”

  I take a deep breath. “Uh, huh. And he is…well, he’s trouble. And he’s mean. And weird.”

  “What does he want from you?”

  “My…” I choke on the food I had shoved in. I take a gulp of water and cough out, “I don’t really know.” Liar. “But he knows things about me…about our family, Fran.”

  Her brown eyes turn to her plate. “Really?’

  “Yes.”

  “Are you going to tell your parents about him?”

  “No…at least not for the time being.”

  Fran smiles slightly. “Good.”

  I turn toward her, my eyebrows pulling in. “Why?”

  “Huh?”

  I regard her warily. “Why is it good that I don’t tell my parents?”

  She stumbles on her words, “I-I just mean,” she turns toward me and smiles. Since she’s tall, she looks down at me. She pats my hand. “Don’t you worry about it.”

  I take my hand away quickly. She is acting weird.

  But before I can ask her anything more, Dad makes a declaration to the room. “Please be silent.”

  Silence.

  Everyone puts down their cutlery.

  “We are gathered tonight to discuss the matter of the wife of Vittorio Cione, Raven Corthrin, as a family. You all know who the decision will be made by, but I wanted to give you all a chance to talk about the woman, whom to many of you was a sister and a friend.”

  “Siamo tutti famiglia.”

  We are family, after all.

  Uncle Ken speaks, his voice carrying, also quiet, “She has made the decision to leave and take their son with her.”

  One of the men from the end of the table raises two fingers and Dad nods to him to speak. “With all due respect, why is Caterina at the table? Of course I mean no disrespect, Capo, but I thought she did not know…”

  My eyes flash to his. The storminess of them matches my father’s because he leans back, if not scared, a little wary.

  But before I can speak, Mom puts a hand over mine, silencing me. Dad nods to the man, who’s probably some distant uncle. Who now I really don’t like.

  “My daughter does not know.”

  Doesn’t know what?

  “But I wanted to give her a chance to say a word about her aunt. Then she will leave.”

  My mouth drops open. “Why? Why is everyone getting to stay but me?” I demand.

  There is silence at the table.

  Dad calmly looks down at me, like he did when I used to throw tantrums. “Caterina, you can either speak on behalf of your aunt and leave, or you can simply leave. It is up to you.” His voice is soft, but I know how he is firm about it.

  I scoff, crossing my arms and glaring at him. I hiss, “But what does it matter what I say? You said…” My forehead crinkles. “Who’s going to decide what again?”

  His face is hard to figure out. Even I, having known my dad my whole life, can’t decipher how he’s feeling when he chooses to go blank.

  But his eyes…now that’s something I know like the back of my hand. They’re exactly like mine.

  It dawns on me suddenly that there is something off about the structure of tonight.

  I turn to the man who had spoken, across the table from me. “Why did you just call my dad Capo?”

  Silence.

  I turn to Mom, next to me, slowly. “Why aren’t you being part of the decision?”

  Silence.

  I turn to Uncle Smoke, and growl at him, “And how can you just sit there and let other people talk about and discuss and decide on the future of the woman you love?”

  There’s a visible tick in his jaw. Mom flashes her eyes at me and I can see her anger at my rudeness.

  Uncle Smoke’s face twists and his eyes look at mine. He doesn’t seem angry at me though. Simply tired and…lost. Like he doesn’t know what to do.

  He’s about forty but he’s always looked much younger. Now he looks his age.

  He doesn’t speak but simply blinks and turns away to look at something I cannot see.

  Dad sighs and shakes his head at me, disappointed. “Go to your room, Caterina.”

  Oh, my God, I can’t believe he’s doing this.

  My eyes wide, “Why? Dad, why?”

  He doesn’t respond. Instead, he nods to someone behind me and a bodyguard—I think it’s Doug—gently takes me by the arm and lifts me from the chair.

  “Let’s go, Miss.”

  The bodyguards rarely touch me because they are supposed to protect me, not force me to do something.

  I growl at him, “What are you doing?”

  I look at Mom, “Mom, stop him! Please, Mom.” But she simply averts her gaze and sighs, a strange look on her face.

  It seems like my whole world is shattering.

  I know I’m closed off from the world, but is it true that I know absolutely nothing about my family too?

  That thought pulls the rug from underneath me.

  I stop all my fighting and let Doug lead me away. I watch the table as I leave, and all the familiar faces, my family, looking at me with…pity. I want to scream at them that I don’t want their pity. I just want to be in on whatever they are hiding from me. I want to be truly part of my family. Not an outsider like I have always been. But now it’s apparent that they will hide everything from me. I look at my father finally, tears brimming my eyes.

  You will not cry in front of them.

  I feel so betrayed.

  Silently I whisper into the room, “I hate you. If you do anything to my aunt, I will never forgive you.” I look at them all, my gaze razor sharp. “Any of you. I will never forgive any of you.”

  ***

  When I get dropped off in my room, it feels like I’m being secured in a prison.

  The door slams shut. Click. Locked.

  The first thing I do is try to go to my closet since it has the passageway.

  Locked.

  I pace the room.

  My bedroom is big, and I walk around it twelve times before I realize it’s not helping.

  I lean against the wall, looking at my bookcase across me, and take a deep breath in. “One…two…three…four…five…”
>
  I reach one hundred and find myself even more terrified than before.

  My heart thumps against my chest and I try to choke down some oxygen. But I find myself unable.

  I am feeling suffocated.

  I drop against the wall. I frantically crawl to a corner. “Breathe…Cat…brea—” I start panting. I can’t breathe, I can’t breathe, oh my god, I—

  I put my head between my knees like the therapist told me years ago. I stopped seeing her because we thought the panic attacks were over. Finished. They had stopped 3 years ago. I was able to swim and do every normal activity.

  And now it’s come back.

  I feel around the floor but realize that my vision is going dark.

  No, no, no, no. Please no. I lay my head on the floor, my cheek pressed against the rug. I’m trying to make a sound. Anything to get anyone to help me.

  Try to scream but no one will hear you.

  Try to cry but know no one will care.

  You can’t leave the room.

  You are locked in here, with no one.

  I sob, but the cry heaves into me. I don’t make a noise. My stomach flips and my dinner threatens to come up. I know soon I am going to submerge in panic attacks, in the hallucinations and hyperventilations and they aren’t here. They aren’t here. They promised they would always be here. No one else can pull me out except them.

  “Mommy, Daddy…you promised…please…”

  They are not here. I choke out a silent sob. I can’t call out. No one will hear me. No one will care.

  I gasp as water splashes against my face. The toilet flushes. The sound is a roar of thunder in my ear. Fear immerses me even though Daddy taught me how to swim. Do not fight the water, my daddy told me. It is not out to hurt you.

  But what about the boys? I have to fight the boys, right? ’Cause they are out to hurt me.

  Horrible laughter fills the bathroom stall. The giggles from the girls are high pitched and squealing. They have never been this excited. “Come on! Do it!” they chant at the boys holding my head down.

  They push my face closer to the water. My self-preservation takes over and my arms flail. I still refuse to speak. I know they want me to beg. They want me to beg them to stop. I cross my fingers and hope to die.

  I won’t.

  My face touches the top of the water and I inhale all the oxygen I can get before they push me in. I can see the water, so, so close that I can see the droplets held together.

  It is an ocean.

  They’re going to flush me. They’re going to flush me down the toilet. My little heart beats so fast that I feel like throwing up.

  “Look!” I hear a girl squeal, “She’s peeing herself! Ew!”

  A chorus of “ews” echo. My head bounces.

  Finally, they shove my head in.

  I claw to get out of the horrible memory. Because it is only a memory.

  “It’s not happening it’s not happening it’s not happening,” I whisper to myself, trying to get out.

  I search for my phone in my pockets. I feel around everywhere. I shove it out of my back pocket. It clatters on the rug. I frantically press buttons, anything to get me out. But the water fills my nose suddenly and I have to let go of the phone. I scream and thrash but their laughter holds me down.

  I can feel myself curl on the floor. “Please, no. Please, stop. Please…”

  There’s a faint voice in the background. I reach for the thread to help me pull myself out.

  “What is wrong, love?”

  ***

  Valentin

  I strum my guitar mindlessly, trying to get Kitten out of my head. Nate hums a song along, some American shit he likes.

  Without looking away from the TV screen, I ask him nonchalantly, “So, what is up with you and that black chick?”

  His eyes flash at me. “Her name is Mell.”

  I laugh. “And she is black.”

  “So? What the fuck is wrong with that?”

  I put my hand up. “Nothing. Calm your tits, shithead. You know I have no fucking problem with that.” I smirk, “Like I always say, a pussy is a pussy is a pussy.”

  He growls, throwing the game controller at me. “Shut the fuck up before I smash your face, Val.”

  I duck, laughing. “So it is serious then.” Nate rarely gets violent unless it is something big and about the people he cares about. And rarely is he so fucking hot-headed.

  He leaves that to me.

  “She is…” He looks down at his phone as if he is waiting for something. After a moment, he throws it on the counter. “She is…”

  “Hot,” I substitute with a smirk. I want to see how little it would get for him to get riled up about her. “She has a pretty great ass.”

  He was always scolding me about being too angry or too short tempered. Even though we are twins, and I’m five minutes older than him, he acts like he’s the older brother. Which annoys the shit out of me.

  His jaw ticks. “Fuck off.”

  I grin widely. He really is serious about her. Usually, he doesn’t mind talking about chicks’ asses.

  I cock my head, putting my feet up on the table. I lay the guitar next to me on the couch. “So, little brother, for once you’re not just drooling over the first girl with big eyes and a bigger rack.” I raise an eyebrow, and tease him. “Is it something on the inside, like her heart or how sweet she is? Is it her intelligence?”

  He gets red. He puts up his middle finger, turning to the TV.

  I burst out laughing even harder. “Fuck, little brother, you are whipped.”

  He runs a hand through his newly-bleached blond hair. Always a sign that someone has the Nikolaevs in a shit storm.

  “You are going to laugh at me and make a joke out of it.” He shakes his head, and I can see his irritation and annoyance. And like he usually does when he does not want to talk to me, he puts on his headphones and starts blasting music from his iPod. He mutters, “You never take anything other than the plan seriously. You are just like Father.”

  I ball my hands into fists.

  Slowly, I force myself to stretch my fingers.

  That stings. But I deserve it.

  “Wait, wait, come on.” He doesn’t respond I can hear the music from his headphones, drowning me out. “Podozhdite, podozhdite,” I repeat in our mother tongue hoping that will get his attention. Rolling my eyes, I hop up from the couch and grab the headphones from him. He glowers at me and I throw the headphones on the couch. I sit back.

  “Aight, aight. I will stop. Just tell me.”

  But he just crosses his arms and refuses to say anything.

  My little brother has it for a girl who everyone can see isn’t going to give him the time of day. And when he does charm his way to her—which eventually he will—he is going to be the one to get hurt. I can see it from the way he acts around her, like he would fuck up everything to be with her.

  And the best thing to do right now would probably to tell Father before this gets too far. Before Nate hurts himself along with everything we have been working toward.

  But this is my brother. I am not going to fuck with him like that. He would have to leave her once we leave for Russia or get over her before that, but until then…

  “Nate, you know I am just fucking with you. Tell you what?” I punch his arm. “We will throw a party. Your devushka is bound to come.”

  He looks at me from the corner of his eyes. He mutters, “Not after the shit you pulled last time.”

  I groan. “I already apologized for that.”

  All right, I had fucked up a little that night. I wanted to teach that son of a bitch Lannister a lesson and I took it too far. But it has taught me a lot about Kitten so it was not a complete disaster.

  “No, you didn’t.”

  He’s probably right. I rarely apologize out loud.

  “What did she need you for anyway?”

  Nate’s eyes darken. He is silent for a moment. “She needed one of our contacts.”


  I turn sharply to him. “Really? Would have never guessed her to be a wannabe killer.”

  Kitten’s family attributes are rubbing off on that girl.

  Chapter 38

  Valentin

  Nate groans and falls back on the couch. “You have no idea.”

  “So, did you give it to her?”

  My words are tight. I hope to God he wasn’t stupid enough to give out the name of one of our men.

  But pussy can make you dazed. I don’t want to reprimand him since this is his first offense like this, but we will have to get the situation under control if he has.

  He shakes his head. “I am not that stupid. I gave her a fake.”

  I relax into the couch. Thank fucking God. “Good.”

  He looks agitated. “I wish I knew why she asked though. I was too high to ask. And I thought she would let me…” He looks embarrassed. “I thought she would…”

  “Let you smash?” I substitute with a gentle smile.

  He groans. “I fucking hate that I thought that. She’s not like that, Val.”

  Ah, Nate. Always the more naïve of the both of us.

  I shake my head and try to ease his worries. “She knew our reputations. She probably thought it was cool or some shit.”

  Nate doesn’t reply.

  Before I can ask him anything else, my phone rings.

  Kitten’s name pops up on my screen. I’ve put a feral cat as her contact picture. Even now, I smile.

  I put the guitar aside. “Nate, shut the fuck up for a moment.”

  I hear him mutter, “I wasn’t even saying anything.”

  I pick up the phone quickly. “Kitten?”

  There’s no response.

  Suddenly I hear whimpering. “No, no…please.”

  My eyebrows furrow. “Kitten, what’s wrong?” There is a painful groan from her.

  Is someone hurting her?

  I get up quickly. Nick throws me a confused look, “Chto proiskhodit?”

  I wave him off. Suddenly I hear her voice. “Help me, please. Help me.”

  I talk calmly, but I feel fucking sick. “Help you with what, love? Are your parents there? Who is hurting you?”