A slew of Italian words imbues the room.
Once again, Angelo speaks up. “We were having a friendly game of poker with some great entertainment from one of my girls, and you pull a gun on my brother? I won’t tolerate that.”
“Pay up, Frankie, or you’re a dead man!” an unknown male says.
Footsteps echo through the room, followed by a loud slam of the front door.
“Come on, girls.” Clyde offers his hand to us.
Though Alice accepts his help, I rely on the edge of the bar to support me.
Alice slips her hand into mine, lacing our fingers together. “Come on. We’re leaving,” she says.
“Eva,” Angelo calls out.
“Just ignore him,” Alice whispers, continuing to tug me along.
“Eva, wait.” The gentle caress of his fingertips on my wrist sends warmth dancing along my forearm.
Just ignore him and walk out the door, I silently plead to myself.
But the relentless bond tying me to Angelo holds me still. That same bond causes my hand to release Alice’s. She furrows her brow.
I mouth I’m sorry to her before turning my blank stare on Angelo.
With his hands hidden in his trouser pockets, he tilts his head to one side, wearing his mischievous grin. Ordinarily, this would send me into a whirlwind of girlish flutters. Not this time, however. The influx of fury flooding my body repels his charm.
“Hey. I’m sorry you had to see that,” he says nonchalantly.
My jaw tightens as my breathing heightens. How can he act so casual? He just had a gun pointed at him, for goodness’ sake!
“Can I go now?” I ask through gritted teeth.
His eyes narrow as he closes the gap between us, bringing his face close to mine. Even his fragrance has no effect on me.
He lowers his voice to a whisper. “You can’t leave. I promised great entertainment today.”
I scoff as I lean away. “You’re joking, right?”
He stands tall once again and raises his eyebrows briefly. “I love that dress on you.”
Keeping my emotions detached, I retrieve his credit card from my purse and return it to him. As soon as he accepts it, I turn to leave.
He grabs my wrist, halting my retreat. The warmth of his body radiates onto the length of my back, his lips caress my ear. Once again, he deepens his voice. “I told you, you can’t leave,” he growls into my ear.
I twist my head to stare into his once-beautiful eyes. Who is this man standing behind me? The warmth and charm that he used to have has vanished, leaving something ominous in its place.
My eyes narrow as I channel all the hate I can muster into him.
Once again, his lips caress my ear. “You already witnessed a fiery response from a lost game. Don Bellini is expecting entertainment and I can’t guarantee his reaction to further disappointment, so get up there and sing. Please.”
In that moment, hearing him plead with me to deliver what he promised, I realize that maybe he’s as frightened as I am. As I come to the understanding that I have no choice but to do as he says, an onslaught of icy fingers curls around my body, paralyzing me, forcing my eyelids to squeeze shut until his footsteps retreat.
Two hands clutch hold of mine.
“What’s going on?” Alice asks.
I hang my head in defeat. “He wants me to sing.”
Her mouth hangs agape and she blinks several times. “Wait, he—”
“Yes, Don Bellini expects me to sing for him. Let me do this so we can go home,” I sigh.
She glances over my shoulder, assessing the situation. “Fine, but we’re never coming back here again.”
I turn away to walk to the stage, but she pulls me back and into an embrace.
“Eva, I’m right here,” she reminds me before scurrying back to her seat.
I clench my fists into tight balls and once again head towards the stage. With each step, my breath shudders and my heartbeat intensifies. I have to plead with my feet not to stumble. By the time I reach the stage, my body trembles with no hope of regulating it. My teeth chatter and I must gain control, or they will hear my fear through the microphone.
“I’m right here, Eva.” Clyde’s soothing voice startles me.
I twist my body to find him standing behind me. Though he wears a forlorn expression, it doesn’t suppress the warmth within his honey-brown eyes.
I know he means well, but what can he do? He can’t rescue me if someone pulls a gun on me. I’d be dead before he even realizes I’ve been shot.
I force one corner of my mouth to curve before I climb the stairs to the stage.
The unlit spotlight allows me to observe six pairs of eyes watching me, waiting for their entertainment. What little pride I had in my singing ability disappears. Maybe Don Bellini will execute me for my lack of talent.
I abandon their gaze and scan the room until I find Alice. Though she wears a melancholy stare, she channels her strength to me. With a slight nod of her head, I open my mouth and allow the melody to flow.
It wasn’t my greatest performance. I succumbed to my nerves and quivers, but somehow, I fulfilled Don Bellini’s demand. I held so tightly to the microphone my knuckles turned white. Halfway through my first song, the men resumed their game and pleasant banter as if the fight never transpired. From that moment, I wanted to leave if they had no intention of listening to me sing. But invisible hands held me in place until the music faded.
“Thank you,” I whisper into the microphone.
No applause or acknowledgement of my presence, though I can’t say I care. The invisible hands release me, allowing me to breathe a little easier now the nightmare is over.
As I approach the stairs, Clyde offers his hand and I accept it.
“You did well,” he says as he leads me down the stairs.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
I hear her heels clapping against the hardwood floor before I see her. Alice, my savior. As soon as she’s within my sight, she holds her arms open, ready to embrace me. We cling to one another and I bury my face in her hair.
“I’m sorry I dragged us into this. I should have listened to you and never accepted this job,” I sniffle.
“No,” she soothes me. “Don’t be sorry. Think about the great dresses he bought us.” A slight giggle emerges but doesn’t last long.
Clyde remains close by protecting us. For a while, he remains silent, until he clears his throat and shuffles his feet. I can’t understand why until I raise my head to discover Angelo standing behind Alice.
With his hands hidden in his pockets, he focuses on the ground, kicking his feet at the invisible dirt. All the anger I felt earlier dissolves, liberated by my betraying heart. He looks at me through his lashes as the mischievous grin materializes on his lips, inviting the hummingbird.
“Alice,” I whisper.
She doesn’t require further information. She senses Angelo’s presence and releases me.
I anticipate his embrace, yet it never comes.
“You did well up there, angel,” he says.
Angel? Since when did I become his angel?
“Can I go home now?” I growl.
“I’ll have Frankie give you ladies a ride home,” he tells me.
“No. We’ll get a taxi,” I reply, clasping Alice’s hand and pulling her away.
The clacking of our heels echoes around the silent room as we head for the door. I’m sure we’ve gained everyone’s attention now, though I certainly don’t care, and I doubt she does either.
The brilliant sunlight kisses our cheeks, the gentle breeze caresses our skin as we burst through the doors, free at last.
“We should walk to the end of the street before calling a cab,” Alice says.
Once we reach the corner, neither of us slows our feet. Instead, we increase our speed, desperate to return to our sanctuary.
“I can carry both of us,” Alice begins. “Don’t worry about money, you don’t have to go back there.”
; I refuse to answer her.
In my mind, I accept her offer, but my wretched heart won’t release me from Angelo. Yes, I could lie to Alice. I could tell her I’ll continue working for him because we need the money. But I know she’ll see right through the charade, knowing full well I’m staying only for him.
“Why did he call you his angel?” she asks me.
“I have no idea. That’s the first time he’s said it,” I tell her.
“He likes you, you know,” she says, like she’s announcing that the sky is blue, or the grass is green.
A single butterfly flutters around my stomach, allowing me a glimmer of hope that I quickly suppress as memories of today’s events flood my mind.
“I doubt it,” I deflect. “Why would he put me in danger if he likes me?”
“He’s in the mob. Doesn’t matter if they love you or not. They still end up putting you in danger, even unintentionally.”
I glance sideways at her. She’s focused on her feet.
“How do you know so much?” I ask her.
She shrugs. “Just things I’ve heard.”
A week has passed since the poker game at the club, and I have made no contact with Angelo. I’m scheduled to sing tonight, but after a long debate with myself, I decide to stay home. If Alice’s assumptions are correct, he will notice my absence and call me.
For the better part of the afternoon, I’ve stayed seated on the stool next to the breakfast bar. Alice rushes around the room, getting ready for work.
“Are you sure you’ll be okay on your own tonight?” she asks, leaning her hip against the breakfast bar as she fumbles with her earring.
“Yes, I’ll be fine,” I insist.
“I can call in sick.”
“No, you need the money. I’ll be okay. Here, let me help.” I hop off the stool, retrieve the jewelry from her and secure it to her ear.
“Thanks. I’m not sure what happened there. Could have sworn the hole had closed.” She collects the second earring from the breakfast bar and scrapes it across her earlobe. “What if he calls you?”
“So what if he does?” I ask, returning to my seat.
“I’ll call you on my break.” She leans her elbows on the bar and nestles her chin in her hands. “Maybe I shouldn’t go in tonight.”
“Alice, I mean it! I’ll be fine!”
She holds her palms up. “Okay, okay, I’ll drop it. But text me if he calls.”
“I will,” I promise.
“I better finish getting ready.” After pushing herself away from the bar, she leaves for her bedroom. She returns soon after with her hair secured in a bun and her beige trench coat covering her work attire. “Have you seen my phone?”
This morning, after Alice finished a merciless conversation with her mother, she’d slammed her phone down on the breakfast bar and hasn’t touched it since. How many times has she passed it already?
She follows the direction my finger is pointing, and relief purges the distress from her pores.
“Oh, thank you,” she says, gathering her phone. “What about my shoes?”
I point towards the door, where she always leaves her shoes when she gets home.
She walks over and leans her back against it to steady herself while lifting one leg to her chest. She wobbles as she puts on one shoe, then the other.
“I’m not sure what time I’ll be home tonight,” she tells me. “But I have my phone. Call if you need me.”
I tilt my head skyward and scrunch my eyes closed. I know she means well, but I’ve had enough of her mother hen act.
“I love you, babe,” she says, coming to give me a hug.
I grin as I glance sideways at her. “I love you too, Mom.”
She chuckles as she releases me. “Fine, I’m going.”
By eight o’clock, butterflies take up residence in my stomach. I remain on my side on the sofa with my knees curled into my chest, secured by my arms. A game show monopolizes the television, but I can’t concentrate on anything other than my thoughts that play on a continuous loop.
Will he notice I’m not there? Will he call? What should I say if he does?
Another forty-five minutes pass by and my phone remains silent.
Alice was wrong about him. He doesn’t like me. I’m nothing to him.
I abandon the game show and stretch my legs out as I lay on my back and stare up at the ceiling. The swirls in the paint form images and faces. Before long, they start to resemble Angelo.
With a heavy sigh, I gather my phone and tap on the screen again.
Nine o’clock.
I throw my phone to the other end of the sofa and wipe away the rogue tear on my cheek.
All my life I’ve strived to be strong and not to allow anyone to govern my thoughts, my actions, or my feelings. So how is it possible for Angelo to dominate every part of my life, including my silent phone?
A newspaper lies neglected at the breakfast bar. Alice said he makes frequent appearances in the paper. Maybe I can relinquish a little of this torment if I pursue my own investigations.
Warm anticipation saturates my body from the prospect of unearthing his secrets. My feet race towards the bar and I perch on a stool. With trembling hands, I slide the newspaper closer and scan each page. Further into the paper with no signs of him, the burning fury seeps back into my body. After scanning the final page with no results, I push the paper away and bury my face into the crook of my arm.
My phone rings. I lift my head to glance over my shoulder, hoping to identify the caller from this distance. The phone illuminates, but the caller remains a mystery.
The enchantment of the phone snaking its way along the sofa as it vibrates enraptures me for a moment. It could be Alice. But I’m not interested in talking to her right now. I have no news to tell her, anyway.
After a while, the phone silences. Voicemail must have collected the call.
I slide off the stool and meander over to the sofa to retrieve my phone.
One missed call; no voicemail.
The phone vibrates and sings in my hand, startling me. Angelo’s name flashes on the screen, causing the hummingbird to beat her wings, while butterflies return to infiltrate my stomach. My body quivers with anticipation as I answer the call.
“Eva? Eva, are you there?” he questions with concern in his voice. That’s new. Refreshing even.
“Yes, I’m here,” I say, keeping my voice calm and uncaring.
“You didn’t show up today.”
I chew on my lip.
“I figured it was about the poker game brawl. There’s no need to be afraid. They wouldn’t hurt you.”
How would he know? Can he read minds? They were about to shoot his brother, and he ordered me to sing to appease the Don.
“Eva?”
“What?” I snap.
“I’d like you to come in tonight. Not to sing. Just to spend time with me.”
“I can’t.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m busy,” I lie.
“Doing what?” he questions.
I remain silent.
“Yeah, I thought so. I’ll see you soon.”
The phone falls silent. My energy dissolves and I collapse on the sofa, having no intention of going anywhere tonight. The butterflies have dispersed; seething anger expelled them.
The images on the television infuriate me.
“Stupid happy couple kissing,” I spit, snatching up the remote and changing the channel.
I flick aimlessly through the channels. It seems the television senses my anguish and mocks me for it. On every channel, happy couples, families, and children laugh and smile.
Where’s the blood and gore? Why isn’t someone being chopped up into little pieces? All I want is for someone to share my misery.
With my hopes dashed, I silence the television and its vexing images.
If I hadn’t stayed in my pajamas all day, I would shuffle to my bedroom to change into them now. The soft fabric soot
hes my frustration as I caress my lips with the sleeve.
Knock, knock, knock.
I sit up and stare at the door, willing myself to develop x-ray vision to identify the uninvited guest. My heart pounds in my chest as visions of demons from my past invade my mind.
They’ve found me!
The sound of my singing phone disrupts the silence.
“No, no, no. Shush, you stupid thing,” I whisper, frantically searching the sofa for it.
I drill my hands between the cushions until my fingertips detect the vibrating phone. By the time my fingers curl around the cool metal, it silences. I draw it from the sofa and clutch it to my chest with both hands and ease myself off the sofa.
With trembling limbs, I tiptoe towards the door, sealing my lips to quiet my shuddered breaths. As I reach the door, my phone chimes, alerting me to the delivered voicemail.
I slap one hand over my mouth, while the other squeezes the life from my phone. For now, I can only hope the mystery visitor is unaware of my presence.
“Eva, open the door,” Angelo’s muffled voice bleeds through.
My tense muscles relax as I release a grateful sigh. When will I finally learn that I’m safe now? That I’ve left those monsters behind?
After depositing my phone on the breakfast bar, I open the door.
My breath catches in my throat and my knees buckle at the sight of him.
He wears his usual attire: a black suit with a matching vest and an ocean-blue tie matching the color of his eyes. He keeps his hands hidden within his pockets. He tilts his head at an angle and gazes at me through his lashes. The mischievous grin materializes.
I can’t allow him to witness my smitten state. Before I speak, I adjust my posture, standing firmly on my feet, and cross my arms. I suck in my cheeks, clamping them between my teeth to resist smiling and exhibit an air of callousness. “Why are you here? Who let you in?” I ask him.
“Nice outfit,” he smirks.
Warmth stains my cheeks as I remember my outfit.
Great. Now I resemble a glowing beacon, and there’s no way to hide it. And to top it off, I look like I’m ready for a slumber party.
“Who is that? Snoopy?” he continues.
Twisted City: (Twisted City Book 1) Page 9
