SLICK

by Peavey Marshall

"Take that back, asshole!"

  Castor's booming voice echoed in the bar. Caly and Vince rapidly jumped from their seats, rushing to the direction of the commotion.

  Callista cursed at the scene.

  Castor Luciano was held back by Marcus' towering form. His green eyes blazed with fury, glowering at the man sprawled on the floor.

  Caly gasped after seeing Franco wipe at his busted lip. She crouched next to him. "Are you okay?"

  "You serious?" Cas yelled, shaking PJ calming hand off his shoulder. "You're on his side?"

  Callista jerked her head sharply at him. She gritted her teeth. "Shut up." Her eyes locked on PJ's dark ones. "PJ, please."

  Castor scoffed. He straightened the collar of his maroon shirt, jaw clenched in indignation. "No need. I can see myself out."

  He trudged to the exit without another word. PJ and Vince trailing after their boss.

  Caly gulped her anxieties and helped Franco up. "Let's get you to the back."

  Mallorie was shaking her head as they passed her but showed Callista the back room anyway. Caly pushed the door open and set Franco on the lone sofa. It was a narrow room with four lockers that was meant for short breaks.

  "You okay?" She on the small table in front of him, crossing her slender legs.

  Franco's blond mane was in a disarray. She lifted a hand and combed her fingers through it causing the man to smirk. "You like my hair?”

  Callista smirked and lifted his chin with her fingertips to inspect the wound. He had a slight discoloration at the edge of his lips but nothing threatening. "You'll live.”

  Franco nodded, licking his lips with a small wince. His icy gaze met hers as his large hand gripped hers. "I'm glad you're on my side."

  Caly hardened her silver stare on him. "I'm not on your side.”

  The man retrieved his hand like he had been burned. "What?"

  "People think Castor has a bad temper but he actually has a good handle on it," she began. "He wouldn't do anything that would get me angry."

  "Is that so?" The hideous sneer on Franco's lips didn't suit his pretty face. "Maybe you're wrong."

  "What did you tell him?" Callista continued regardless of Franco's words. The last time she had been dubious of her best friend, she was proven wrong big time. "Franco?"

  "It was the truth."

  "Your truth?" Callista sighed. She didn't want to tell Franco the truth of Elena's death but she couldn't have him in a pool of anger either. "The man who started the shootout was hired by your father's bodyguard.”

  Franco's face muscles tightened. His next words came out in a snarl. "You're wrong."

  "If we find the hitman—"

  "Stop it!" Franco shot up from the sofa. The veins on his neck protruded, face flushed from rage. "If you are right, it means my father is lying," he breathed out as dread glazed his blue eyes. "And I can't handle that!"

  Franco left the vicinity with rolls of fury dripping from him. Caly sighed, feeling tired without even doing anything. The thought of facing Castor made another weary sigh leave her lips.

  Mallorie opened the break room. "Oh, girl. Is the drama finally over?”

  She rolled her eyes in response as Mallorie stepped inside with a bouquet. "Your delivery is here."

  Callista gasped in bewilderment. The bouquet was wrapped in a sparkly black cloth, the flowers in a white and purple ensemble. "It's gorgeous.”

  "Go. He's in the backyard. I'll take care of the other idiots," Mal mumbled. "Or maybe I'll let Vincent take care of it."

  Caly chuckled, grabbed the bouquet, and went to the back of the bar. She was met with junk. Black tires, metal drums, and a huge cargo container. But Mallorie certainly recognized the appeal of drinking under the night sky.

  The area was decorated with soft white bulbs hanging from steel bars and a flickering bonfire on the center.

  She found Castor on the top of the container. "Hey!"

  Cas looked down. She could barely see him except for the fading cloudy smoke. "What?"

  "How did you go up?"

  "I climbed."

  Caly eyed the seven feet metal container. "Are you sure?"

  "I'm kidding," he chortled. "There's a ladder on the back."

  Castor's laugh gave Caly some hope that he wasn't too furious about what had transpired earlier. She stepped off her heels and climbed the ladder on barefoot. She panted a bit before sitting to her best friend's right side, placing the bouquet and her shoes next to her. Their feet dangling side by side against the cold surface.

  "You okay?" he asked without a glance. He was busy making smoke rings from his cigarette.

  "That's neat," she commented as they watched the rings dwindled from the blowing wind. "I wanna try."

  Cas shot her a conceited smile. "You know, only pros do this with cigarettes," he stated, blowing one ring towards her.

  She pouted, waving her hands to clear the smoke. "So vaping then?”

  Castor looked away, eyes focused on the stars above. "Did you come here to apologize, Callista?" he asked. "'Cause unless you're on your knees, I won't accept it.”

  Callista felt the spark of challenge. "A queen is never on her knees.”

  Her best friend turned to her with hooded emerald eyes and a salacious grin. "Are you sure?"

  "Happy birthday," she exclaimed instead, pressing a lingering kiss to his cheek. She placed the flowers on his lap. "Here."

  Surprise crossed his handsome features. "You're giving me flowers?"

  "You like it, right?"

  Castor shrugged, putting out the white cylinder on the metal surface. His ring-lined fingers ran over the white roses, to the oak-leaved geraniums and edelweiss. "Friendship, courage, devotion." His emerald eyes raised to her steel ones. "What about white roses?"

  "New beginnings," she answered.

  "Ah." He set the flowers to his left.

  Callista heard her heart's protest. She tucked her raven hair on her ears. "What is it?"

  "I'm confused," he began. Castor brought up his left knee, setting an elbow on it as he faced her with seriousness. "Whenever I do or say something, you let me. But then, you act as if nothing happened. I guess, what I'm saying is, if you aren't attracted to me, even just a little bit... then maybe, my feelings are better off forgotten.”

  "Is that it?" she snarled, feeling her blood ignite when he nodded. "Then, you're a coward! You're afraid I don't feel the same way so you're backing out—"

  "That's not true!" he shouted.

  "Really?" She shot back. "Because that's what it sounds to me!"

  "It's not!"

  "Then, prove it!" she dared.

  Castor clicked his tongue, jaw tensed. "Nice deflection, Callista Ariella." He moved to stand up and Caly's heartbeat went overdrive. She did deflect.

  Unlike Franco, she hasn't been doing anything with Castor. She was standing like a statue, too confident by the solid bond of friendship they had to turn it into something as fickle as love. She thought Castor would be satisfied but she was wrong. She was so wrong.

  And she was on the verge of losing him.

  She clutched his hand. Tight. Too scared to let go. Callista reprimanded her father for being selfish. But she had no right. She was made from the same cloth. She was the same.

  "I'm sorry," she said.

  "What?" Castor's tone was mired with irritation.

  And then, she kissed him.

  Castor's surprise was evident as he remained stoic. But Callista's playful tongue was enough to spur him into action. His callous hands rested on her legs, digging into her thighs as she sucked his bottom lip. The cold metal on his fingers sent shivers down her spine as she continued exploring his hot mouth.

  Her heart thundered as he pulled her on his lap, their chests beating in synchrony. Callista snaked her arms over his neck, relishing in his pleasurable moans when her sharp nails raked down his back.

  Caly broke away, breathing hard as Cas' scorching hands caressed her exposed skin. She played with the fine hairs o
n his nape. "I'm sorry."

  He shook his head, grazing his teeth over his tender lips. "It's fine. I just thought that if you have chosen Franco," he mumbled. "You'd be kind enough to tell me." He lifted a hand, his rough knuckles tracing her jaw. "So I can start moving on from you, your majesty."

  Caly's chest squeezed with agony. She forced it down and kissed him again, tasting a mixture of alcohol and cigarettes. How ironic.

  Because Castor Luciano was quickly becoming her bad habit.

  ***

  CHAPTER 27

  Tori was happily eating various kinds of sushi as Callista eyed her. Her own plate was empty despite the appetizing smell of a Japanese buffet all over the function hall. Caly and Tori had attended their high school reunion.

  Callista had wanted to refuse but she had been the student council president of their time and Principal Lee had been close to begging. She placed a hand on her cheek, silver eyes surveying different groups of students before her gaze stopped on Castor Luciano. He was surrounded by boys and girls alike.

  Even with the Lucianos' terrifying reputation, Castor's charisma had no bounds. He had friends in the basketball and soccer teams. He had been part of the art club and the school's band. Aside from that, he had hung out with kids whose hobbies ranged from skating to racing.

  People could look past his origins. He was so unlike her.

  Callista had lots of acquaintances but few friends. People were nice to her, they would exchange pleasantries with her but she could still see the glint of fear on their eyes. It's almost a blessing her social media followers judge on face and clothes alone. They didn't know what she was truly capable of.

  Callista and Castor both came from powerful crime families. And Luciano's heir might act like a raging beast st times but she was certain, she had done more fearsome things than him.

  Ever since she was a child, her father had taught her to take no shit from anyone. To not let anyone question her decisions. To not let anyone take what was hers.

  To take and take and win.

  When her bodyguard had died, Caly realized how true her father's words were. She could take anything she wanted. Even someone's life.

  Maybe that was the problem. She could have anything that she didn't know what she wanted to have anymore.

  Was it freedom? Popularity? Love?

  Or family?

  Until now, she didn't have the answer.

  Castor's eye caught hers. She turned away, feeling her heartbeat doubled. Kissing the man shitted all over plans.

  Callista had given out options about what winning would look like but her mind had already laid out the perfect solution of ending the rivalry between the two families.

  Castor was hers. He had been the first time they met.

  But Franco was not.

  So she decided to choose Franco and have the Castellano family on her palm. She was even excited when she had found out that Francisco Castellano was gunning for his own son. It was more challenging to take something from him.

  But this time, she didn't want to just take, she wanted to give. She wanted to give it to the boy who had saved her. The first person she had depended on.

  And it was a perfect plan before Castor's green eyes started giving her heartaches. Cracks appeared on her solid plot. If she didn't make things clear soon, she would create a problem because of her stupidity.

  "Tori, why don't we go visit Mallorie? I don't think I can stay here," she stated, seeing Tori ate the last piece of sushi.

  She swallowed her food. "Are you sure? I still want to eat tempura."

  "Yes. I'm sure Mal has more food." Callista grabbed her purse and almost dragged Tori away when Castor narrowed his eyes at them. He excused himself from his group and marched towards her.

  Well, shit.

  She couldn't do anything as he stood in front of her. Caly stared at him, meeting the turbulent swirls of his eyes. "What?"

  "I told you to make it clear with me," he drawled. Castor's silent anger made her clench her fists. "But, you're running away. Don't you think I deserve an explanation, Callista?"

  She licked her lips. "I'll tell you just..." Her crimson nails pierced her palm. "Not now."

  "Alright," he said. Castor lifted a hand, caressing her right cheek. Her heart crumpled and the tug at her stomach coiled tighter. "I'll wait for you.”

  Caly nodded as her nails dug deeper into her palm. She shouldn't cry.

  She was doing the right thing.

  ~~~~

  Franco Castellano glared at his white ceiling. Callista's words kept running through his mind. That his father lied to him about Elena. That his father...

  He shot up from his bed, fingers yanking at his blond locks.

  The truth was, he wasn't scared at all. He was terrified.

  Of all people, he knew what his father was capable of. Francisco Castellano was manipulative and full of vengeance. He would use anything at his disposal to get to his goal.

  But could he really use his own son? Was it possible?

  A resounding 'yes' echoed in Franco's mind. He quickly shook the thought away and decided to talk to his father. He couldn't doubt the only person who had shown him love.

  The next day, Franco was determined to face his father. But his plans were thwarted when his secretary called to tell him about the new wine that his father ordered.

  He couldn't say no and went to their warehouse to inspect the cargo. Franco waited until the boxes were stacked neatly. But his curiosity got the better of him as he opened one box. He didn't know what kind of wine his father had produced but it was 20% costlier.

  Franco yanked one bottle and he gritted his teeth at the white powder at the bottom of the bottle. Damn it.

  If that wasn't enough, he could hear shootings outside of the warehouse. The fucking... He returned the bottle to its box.

  "What's happening?" he yelled at one of their guards.

  "It's Luciano's men, sir!" he responded before running outside.

  Franco shut his eyes, thumb pressing at his temples. He barked his orders to his men as he exited the warehouse on the other door. His father was selling drugs and Luciano had already caught onto it.

  He went to his car and stepped on the brakes. His blood pounded on his ears as he took the stairs to his father's office. He pushed the door wide but the words died on his tongue as Benjamin stood guard. The scar on his face deepened as his eyes trained on the newcomer.

  Franco inhaled deeply and walked to the table in calculated steps. "Father, can I talk to you?"

  "You should have asked that before you burst in here, Franco." He set his fountain pen down, blue eyes lifting to his identical ones. "What is it?"

  "You started selling drugs?" he inquired, hiding his clenched fists from the other men's view. "Father, isn't that against the provisions you had with Caesar Genovese. Drugs are for Manhattan's gangs.”