by Grace Risata
“Things are holding steady for the moment. Your little escapade with Antonio is causing more problems than the mutiny in the ranks.”
“Do tell,” I insisted, instantly scowling in anger. I made eye contact with Sam and waived him toward the restaurant door to catch Chrissie before she came in our direction.
“Seamus is dirty, Fritz is running around in a panic like a little bitch, Shorty stepped up to help me run the show, and Hawk is being closely monitored. Angela insists he’s clean, but I have my suspicions. Bennie wants him out.”
“Anybody else giving you a hard time?”
“Nope. Some of the guys seem relieved that I’m currently taking on an executive role in the company, but I don’t like it one fucking bit. I’m not cut out for a leadership position. Shorty is the one making all the decisions behind the scenes. I’m just the figurehead. I won’t ask where you are because of obvious reasons. Are you in good company?”
“The best,” I replied with a shit-eating grin.
“When are you returning from your little vacation?”
“That remains to be seen. I haven’t decided yet. What’s up with Antonio?”
“His cousins are the ones responsible for your fender bender on Sunday. They know you got away and they’re coming down hard looking for information on your whereabouts. I haven’t had the opportunity of speaking with them directly, but I can tell you a couple guys showed up at your house sniffing around. When it became abundantly clear you blew town, they got pissed and dumped a truckload of garbage in front of every single business you own.”
“They don’t know everything I have a hand in. No one does.” Every girl has her secrets, some of us more than others.
“Fair enough. They dumped a pile of dead fish, rotting garbage bags, and horse manure in front of your club, the restaurant, and two Laundromats. A pair of Italian goons paid a visit to the gym and insisted that a message get passed along. They want a cut of your profits. If their demands aren’t met and protection money isn’t paid, things are going to get messy.”
“How messy?”
“Full on gang violence with blood in the streets. There’s tension within our own ranks, trouble with the Italians, and lots of shit being shoved down my throat right now. We need you here.”
“Does anyone else know what’s going on?” If my father found out…scratch that…when my father finds out, it will be ugly.
“Yes. He called and was understandably annoyed when you were unavailable to speak with him. Shorty gave a very vague explanation.”
“How did that go?” I glanced to the side and saw Chrissie and Sam huddled over a menu. My bodyguard kept glancing over at me, most likely dying to know what was being said.
“The man was livid, more at the nerve of the Italians than anything else. He was not pleased about the road rage incident, either. No one fucks with his family. I think he regrets leaving, but it was really the only option. When are you coming back? Shorty is worried sick. He hates your companion and doesn’t trust you alone with the guy. I know you can handle yourself, so I’m not as concernced. How many more days are you staying on vacation?”
“This is no vacation, dude. Trust me on that. Things are more soap opera dramatic than you could ever imagine. For real. Remember that summer when we got a little addicted to ‘Days of Our Lives?’ That was nothing compared to this.”
“You need back-up? Say the word and we’ll come get you. You know that.”
“I’m all warm and tingly now,” I teased. Honestly, I did appreciate his concern. “Don’t worry about me for one fucking second. I’m holding my own and then some. I’ll tell you all the gory details when I get back. Today is Wednesday…give me a couple days…”
“How many?” he demanded.
“Oh, someone is growing a pair of balls, is he? I can’t just click my heels together and teleport home. I’m really far away.”
“Florida? You at the beach?”
“Pfft. I wish. I gotta go, okay? Tell everyone I’m fine. I’ll bring you back good stories, I promise. Let them know I helped cut up a tree today and I ate a fucking bologna sandwich!”
“What the fuck? Are you high right now? It doesn’t sound like you’re fine at all!”
“Love you!”
I hung up the phone with a little laugh. I wish I could see his face right now. Before I even had the time to picture it in my head, Sam marched over and shoved a menu in my direction.
“What do you want? She’s going inside to order. Hurry up.”
In no mood to be rushed, I perused the menu and then motioned for Chrissie to join our huddle.
“Everything sounds delicious. What are you two ordering?”
“Sam is getting a slab of ribs, some BBQ chicken wings, and a small order of coleslaw. I want a brisket sandwich with a small potato salad on the side, if that’s not too much money.”
“I’ll take an order of fries, some onion rings, a slab of ribs, and a large side of pasta salad. Throw in one slice of apple pie and two pieces of double chocolate cake. Can you remember all that or should I write it down?”
She stared at me open-mouthed while I dug two hundred dollar bills out of my backpack.
“Tip them twenty bucks,” Sam suggested, nodding his head in her direction. “It’s okay, go ahead.”
Chrissie merely stood and gaped as though she’d never seen a hundred dollar bill in her life. I was forced to put it into her hand and literally shove the girl toward the restaurant entrance.
Once she was safely inside, I got my bodyguard caught up with the events unfolding back home. Naturally I left out the part about Shorty not trusting him, me eating bologna, and my father knowing anything at all. Those were not necessary details and I didn’t want to add any worry to his already full plate.
“I don’t like this,” he declared. “I don’t like any of it. We shouldn’t be here twiddling our thumbs while much more important matters are going down back home.”
My heart expanded three sizes at his use of ‘home’ when referring to New York. I don’t think he said it on purpose, which made it all the more special.
“Relax. If I just race back to town, it’s going to look like I’m worried and need to make sure things are being handled. That’s not the case. Let the Barsotti assholes sweat it out a little. They’re in no position to take on a group of crazy Irish fuckers who can’t sort out their own shit. They won’t be able to tell who’s really in charge and who’s just pretending to know their ass from a hole in the ground. With me gone, it’s complete anarchy. The Italians want no part of that. People wait for me, not the other way around. It’s a power play. Someday you’ll learn how things work.”
“They’ll keep making little shows of authority,” he warned. “Just like dumping the garbage. You want that to escalate into something worse?”
I shrugged my shoulders while waiting impatiently for the food.
“We’ll deal with the Barsotti clan when we get home. That’s not a major issue right now. More importantly, we need to weed out the traitors in our own camp. Supposedly Seamus is dirty, but I don’t have more details. Shorty stepped up to be Ian’s second in command, and my brother is eternally grateful. I swear, everyone else could be dead and Ian would still complain about having to be in charge of himself. I have no clue why he’s so averse to making decisions.”
“Shorty tried to take over? I’m not surprised, Leandra. I’ve never liked that guy.”
“He’s not too keen on you either. Why the bad blood?” I had my suspicions, but nothing concrete enough to verbalize out loud. Besides, it might have just been wishful thinking.
“I don’t like the way he looks at you,” he admitted, refusing to elaborate further.
“That’s very vague. Could you be more specific? He looks at me like he wants to steal my Rolex and pawn it? Like he wants my spot as top dog in charge of the business empire? Like he’s envious of my gorgeous high heels and wants to wear them himself? Like he doesn’t appreciate when I put
a wineglass on the table with no coaster underneath?”
I knew damn well what he meant, but I wanted to hear him say it. The question remained…would he speak his feelings out loud?
“He looks at you like you’re a steak dinner and he hasn’t eaten in a week. With a desperate hunger.”
Hmm. We’re getting a little bit warmer, yet still beating around the bush. Time to take things up a notch. I bit my lower lip, bridged the short distance between us, and gazed up at Sam.
“Everyone looks at me like that. I’m a means to an end. They want my money, my power, my life. Shorty is no different than anyone else.”
“He wants your body,” he declared with a throaty edge to his voice. “Not to cherish and protect and worship, but to use as a plaything and then cast aside. I would die before I let that happen.”
I blocked out the world and found myself hypnotized by his words, but not so far gone that I didn’t notice him staring at me hungrily in the same way he just accused Shorty of doing.
Fuck yes.
It’s about damn time.
Who would have thought Kansas could be an aphrodisiac?
“I feel—” I began, about to confess my desire for him, only to be interrupted by Chrissie fumbling her way out of the restaurant while carrying a tray full of drinks.
“The food will be ready in about ten minutes, but they sent out this other stuff early,” she explained, juggling beverages and a pile of napkins and plastic utensils.
Sam rushed over to assist, and the moment was lost forever. Well, not forever, but for the foreseeable future.
“Great, thanks,” he said, loudly clearing his throat and taking half the pile before she dropped it all. “Why don’t you two get everything set up on one of the nearby picnic tables and I’ll go inside to wait for the food?”
He literally passed off the supplies to me, raced into the restaurant like his ass was on fire, and left me alone with his sister.
“What’s up with him?” she asked in confusion. “He seemed kind of…I don’t know…flustered. I don’t remember Sam as being so irrational all the time.”
“Marriage will do that to a person,” I explained, sitting down and cracking open the bottled water with a sigh of relief. No more Kansas tap water for this girl. Hydration never tasted so good.
“No, marriage makes you whole once you find your missing other half,” Chrissie commented with a wistful look on her face.
“Honey, who teaches you this crap? Are you reading too many cheesy romance novels or watching unrealistic movies? No, no, no. You have it all wrong. You need to find yourself first, and then the man will come next. Figure out what you want to do in life, where your passion comes from, and then things will all fall into place. You aren’t half a person with the other half missing.”
Has this kid’s mother taught her nothing about self-esteem and confidence and all that other shit? Sam’s parents are doing more harm than good in my opinion.
“I can’t help it…I’m a sucker for a good love story. I’ve already planned my dream wedding down to every last detail. The vows will take place in our church, I’ll wear a stunning floor length white dress with a proper veil, and my groom will be dashing in his black tuxedo. Orchids will be my flower of choice, the bridesmaids will wear purple, and we’ll feast on chicken and beef tips until it’s time to go back to our hotel for the honeymoon night. That part probably won’t be ideal, but everything can’t be perfect all the time.”
“Um…why not?” Was she referring to their general lack of money and the fact that a Caribbean vacation was not in her future?
“Well, you know. Don’t make me say it out loud. I mean you are my brother’s wife. We shouldn’t be talking about this stuff. It’s just that…I’ve heard…the first time isn’t the most romantic for a girl and it hurts.”
For fuck’s sake. Are you kidding me right now?
“Okay, that’s it,” I yelled, smacking my palm on the table and probably getting a sliver in the process. “Since nobody has decided to take you under their wing about one single important event in life, I will sign up for the job. God knows I’m knowledgeable about the majority of things to happen in this world, so I guess He’s chosen me to impart that wisdom on to you, dear child.”
“You’re starting to scare me…”
“Good. It’s time for some tough love here, girl. First of all, weddings are a giant money pit. You’re shelling out wads of dough for a dress you’ll never be comfortable wearing, paying for food and drinks for assholes you don’t really like, and signing a contract promising to ‘obey’ some random guy. It’s all bullshit if you ask me. Skip the party and just elope to a nice secluded beach. That’s a far better plan in the long run.”
She sat gaping at me, open mouthed, as though I just turned into a snake and bit her.
“As for the honeymoon night,” I continued, “I take it that you’re a virgin, right?”
Eyes widened even farther and a trademark Chrissie gasp followed.
“I really don’t feel comfortable discussing that at this time,” she courteously replied.
“You don’t have to be so polite. It’s perfectly acceptable to tell me to kindly fuck off and mind my own business. I can respect honesty. What I can’t respect is your lack of knowledge in the sex department. But if you don’t feel comfortable talking about it, that’s fine. You can listen.”
Instead of getting up in shock and walking away, she remained firmly rooted in place. I can only imagine the poor thing was desperate to hear what I had to say, due to the fact no one ever fully counseled her on such a significant milestone.
“The first time a person has sex, it can be a total clusterfuck. Either the guy pressures her and she isn’t really ready, or he’s an inexperienced moron and the whole shebang lasts thirty seconds. That being said, losing your virginity doesn’t have to be a bad experience if you take my advice—”
“Or you could leave her the hell alone and not have this conversation,” Sam demanded, coming up from behind me and dumping bags of food on the table. “My sister does not need to hear anything you have to say, Leandra. She’s innocent and I’d like to keep it that way.”
If looks could kill, my bodyguard would have been a dead man. No one talks to me like that.
“I come and go as I please, Samuel,” I reminded him casually while opening the nearest bag and beginning to sort through take-out containers. “I wear what I want, do what I want, and speak my mind. If you have a problem with any of that, perhaps you should have married someone else.”
He froze, one leg over the picnic bench, and we locked eyes in a stare-down of epic proportions. I raised an eyebrow, silently daring him to make a move. There was a ninety percent chance he would avert his gaze in defeat, which usually happened with everyone else in my life. I had the upper hand. I was the boss. Therefore, I won.
“One of the reasons I chose you as a wife,” he explained through gritted teeth, “was your ability to weigh all the options and make the right decision. Your wisdom and loyalty when dealing with others is what drew me in and held my attention. Other women need constant reassurance and hand-holding, yet you tend to fall on the opposite end of the spectrum. This is a benefit as well as a hindrance. Sometimes you need to follow and not always take the lead.”
I paused at his words, head cocked in surprise. There may have been a few rapid blinks of comprehension as everything sank in. Did he really think of me as some ball-buster who refused to take his advice? No wonder the man didn’t want to fuck me…I figuratively castrated him and served his nuts on a silver platter.
There’s no way in hell I would ever end up with some weak beta male who deferred all the important decisions to me, yet here I was, trying to control everything and throwing a fit when I got put in my place.
“You’re right, Samuel. You’re absolutely right,” I mumbled. “I’m sorry for that.”
I stared down at the pile of ribs on my plate and suddenly found myself unable to take a sing
le bite. Every man wants a woman that props them up, not tears them down. Alpha males want to protect their ladies, not fight for dominance in the relationship. I was going about this all wrong.
A rough and calloused hand reached across the table and delicately caressed my own soft fingers. His thumb brushed barbecue sauce on my knuckles while slowly massaging smooth skin.
“Are we okay?” he asked gently, squeezing my hand.
I nodded wordlessly, head down, feeling like the furthest thing possible from alright. I was in an unknown land, with hostile natives all around me, and I didn’t have one clean pair of underwear to my name.
“Liar.”
My eyes shot up and met his.
“You’re not the only one who can sense bullshit from a mile away. I’ve been around you long enough to know a lie when I see one. The way I figure it, you have two options right now, princess. You can sit and sulk, pouting, which is something I don’t think I’ve ever seen you do before. Or you go back to calling me ‘Sam’ instead of ‘Samuel,’ put on your big girl panties, and eat your fucking food. What will it be?”
That rotten bastard!
“I’m not a fan of ultimatums,” I barked in outrage. “Punishment will be swift and merciless.”
I stuck my finger in one of the containers of extra barbecue sauce and flicked a decent sized gob directly at his face. As it hit the target and slid down his nose, I grinned and proclaimed, “Bull’s-eye, Sam.”
He froze, overcome with shock, unable to move.
“Your maturity level is embarrassing,” he spat, promptly digging his spoon into the mashed potatoes and catapulting them right down my cleavage. “You should be ashamed of yourself, Lee.”
“So that’s how it is, huh?” I asked in amusement. “Samuel and Leandra behave like adults in New York, but Sam and Lee go buck wild in Kansas? Is that the score?”
