Rising (Vincent and Eve Book 1)

by Jessica Ruben

  She steps up to me, putting her long, manicured fingers in my hair, pulling one spiral curl down and watching it bounce back into place. “Dark and curly, just like that asshole,” she huffs.

  She looks around the room, eyes moving from corner to corner. “Girls, are you turning this place into a pigsty?” Her voice is high-pitched and loud. “The place looks nasty. Eve, clean the kitchen.” She watches as I open the closet door and pull out some cleaning supplies. The moment my hands touch the bleach, she lets out a sigh of relief.

  She places a hand on her bony hip, facing me. “While me and Janelle wash up for our day, you take care of this.” She gestures around the room with her hands. I look up at her again and nod my head. If I can just make her happy with the cleaning, maybe she’ll love me more and stop leaving all the time.

  “And IF you get it all done in time, then maybe…” her voice trails off and I inhale, hoping. “Then maybe,” she repeats, “you’ll come with us.” I exhale.

  My mom struts into her bedroom, slamming the door behind her. Janelle is still next to me, squeezing my hand three times. It’s our secret signal for a promise. “I’ll help you clean up. We’ll all go out together.”

  “Okay, Janelle,” I whisper, dropping my head.

  “Don’t be sad, baby girl. We’re going to have the best day ever.” I shrug, hoping things will look up.

  She bends down low, placing her lips at my ear to tell me a secret. I stand on my tippy-toes, wanting to make sure I hear every word. Janelle’s lips graze over my ear, her warm breath giving me the chills. “Don’t tell Mom, but if you want, we can return some toys when she leaves and use the money for books.”

  “Really?” I throw my hands over my mouth, trying not to laugh too loudly. “You’re right. This is going to be the best day ever!”

  “Shh! Let’s just get this cleaning done before she comes out.” Janelle picks up the folding chair from the kitchen table and places it in front of the sink so I can climb up to reach the faucet.

  We put the box of Cheerios in the cupboard and then scrub our breakfast bowls side by side. We had our cereal this morning with water, which I really don’t like. We’ve been out of milk for weeks.

  When we finish cleaning up, we walk together into our tiny bedroom. I love how we share. I don’t like to be alone.

  Janelle turns to me, her eyes full of promise. “One day, Eve, I’m gonna get a job and make sure we always have food on the table. And you’re gonna be a doctor or a lawyer with that big brain of yours. Don’t listen to Mama, okay? You keep on reading. We’re gonna get out of this place.” I quietly nod as she kisses me on the head and walks to the bathroom. I change into a pair of leggings without too many holes, hoping my mom won’t be embarrassed by me.

  After a day of nonstop shopping, we finally get back home with bags full of toys and our hair done up in curls and our nails shining with color. Janelle and I drop onto the couch, exhausted.

  “Mama, can we watch a movie tonight?” Janelle asks. I smile wide, hoping my mom says yes. Because Janelle is thirteen, she always knows the best movies to watch.

  My mom ignores the question and looks down, checking her phone and smiling. “Girls, Mama needs to go out for a little bit. Take good care of your toys!” And just like that, she’s gone again.

  ***

  As we got older, we learned that when Mom was happy, the supermarket needed to be our first stop. She’d walk with us up and down the aisles, laughing and playing supermarket sweep. We’d buy up every dry good we could fit into our cart. Fresh food wasn’t smart since it ultimately went bad, but we’d take lots of canned fruits and vegetables.

  Over time, Mom’s highs got higher and her lows lower and longer. Weeks would sometimes pass and we wouldn’t see her at all. Our food would run low. Janelle dropped out of school at sixteen to get a job. She pays most of our rent now, too, and makes sure we have food at all times. Eggs and milk. Pasta. I try to help out in the ways I can by cleaning and cooking meals. But Janelle refuses to let me leave school and get a full-time job, no matter what. I know she only stays in this shithole so I’m not alone.

  Janelle insists that she didn’t need school to be a famous hair stylist, but I know how much she sacrificed for me. One day, I’m going to make sure I make enough money for the two of us to get out of here. I’m not letting anything or anyone stop me. I just have to survive long enough to make it out.

  CHAPTER 3

  Janelle and I walk underground and get on the six train, heading uptown. Quickly finding two empty seats next to each other, we drop down before anyone else can grab them. Janelle lets out a loud breath as we cross our legs, sitting in silence. I’m relieved Janelle isn’t trying to talk, because I don’t think I have it in me to speak right now. Just as the subway pulls into Fifty-Seventh Street, she stands up, holding the railing above us with one hand and telling me in a whisper and watery eyes that everything will be okay. She gets off, and I pull my bag closer to my chest, continuing my commute uptown to work.

  I get to Angelo’s Pawn, pulling out my key to open the old gray door. I glance up for a moment, noticing one of the electric-green lights on the signage is no longer on, turning the name of the shop into ANGELO’S PAN. As I push the door open, I make a mental note to remind Angelo to fix it. Getting inside, I immediately notice the frame of a man’s silhouette behind the counter. My voice falls to my feet, my throat constricting. Carlos. He found me! Emptiness closes in with a threat of forcing me to pass out as my heart jumps from my chest.

  Angelo turns around, and my knees threaten to buckle with relief. Shock lines his face while I feel myself begin to hyperventilate. My eyes know the man behind the counter isn’t Carlos, but my body hasn’t gotten the message yet. I know this is my Angelo, but all my body can understand is that a man is in front of me.

  “Come on, doll. Relax.” Angelo puts his thick arm around me and I immediately flinch, drawing back to get away from his touch. Stepping back, he brings me a chair and gently pushes me down to sit, telling me to put my head between my legs. When I finally feel calmer, I look up at him. He’s in a clean button-down shirt and his dark hair is combed over to the side.

  “Holy shit, sweetheart. But you’ve got some explaining to do.” I inhale again and smell his cologne. The smell is sharp, but it’s comforting. It’s Angelo.

  “Yeah, I know. I’m just—” I shake my head, feeling the tremors move through my body. I want to speak, but my throat tightens. I try to hold back my tears, but they refuse to be kept at bay. Part of me wants to let him take care of this issue for me so I never have to think of it again. But life doesn’t work that way. The minute he gets the Borignone family involved, I’ll just be one more girl they have control over. I’d be trading in one psychopath for another.

  “Eve,” he gets up and brings me a small bottle of water from the mini-fridge behind the counter. “Drink something and relax.”

  As the water streams down my throat, I finally calm down. I’m with Angelo. I’m safe here. In this moment, no one can hurt me.

  “Tell me what’s wrong.”

  “No, I…I…can’t.”

  “Eve. I’ve known you long enough. I can’t just sit here while you’re like this. Tell me what’s going on.”

  I look around the shop. It’s small with an old carpeted floor and a large glass counter on the right side. It’s filled with diamond rings and watches. I even see a new drum set and guitar in the corner along with a violin.

  “That stuff is new?” I sniffle, pointing to the instruments. “It wasn’t here last week.”

  “Yeah, doll. Stop deflecting. Now, talk to me.”

  “If I tell you, you need to swear to Christ that you won’t do anything about it other than hear me out.”

  “Ah, you’re bringing Jesus into this?” He raises his dark, bushy eyebrows.

  “You know it,” I reply with as much sass as I can muster.

  “It must be some serious shit.” I nod my head, tears dripping down my fac
e. “All right.” He lifts one hand as if under oath. “I swear.” He nods solemnly. “Now talk.”

  I grip the bottom of the chair, feeling my knuckles burn as I open my mouth. I tell him about Carlos and the Snakes. By the time I’m finished, he’s seething with anger.

  “I’m gonna take care of that fucker!” He stands up, fury seeping through his pores.

  “No! You can’t! I don’t want the mob after him. I can’t get involved in that shit. And I can’t owe anyone any favors. I can’t do that—”

  “Eve. That motherfucker is going to come back for you.” He points to me. “I’ve heard of Carlos. He’s certifiable.”

  “No,” I tell him forcefully. “Janelle has friends. She’s going to ask someone to talk to Carlos—”

  “Christ, Eve. Are you kidding me? The Snakes are trying to gain power on the streets. If he wants you, he isn’t letting you go!”

  “I have to do this my way. I’ll never forgive you if you tell Antonio. And how do we even know he took what happened seriously? I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Maybe…maybe Carlos forgot about me already.”

  He blinks at me, giving a no-nonsense stare. He knows I’m not going to budge.

  “Just remember, Antonio can probably have someone burned alive in the middle of Times Square without the cops saying a word. I want you to know that getting the family involved is always an option. It’s the best option. Hell, they’ll make sure he disappears—”

  “Well, it can’t be an option for me.” I shake my head. “No way.”

  He stands up, pacing the room. Finally, he stops and turns to me. “It’s time to teach you to shoot. You don’t want to get the family involved, fine. But I’m not letting you walk around unarmed.”

  I stare at him shocked. “A…gun?” My nerves start up, but I swallow them down. “Angelo, I can’t have a gun. Is it even legal?”

  He rolls his eyes and starts to laugh. “Ah, my little Eve. I should nickname you Double E for Eve Esquire. You better be my lawyer someday, if—God forbid—I ever need one.” He laughs at me as I blow my nose with a tissue from the counter.

  I’ve got to give it to him; Angelo is making a lot of sense right now. I really do need some protection. This way, I won’t have to lean on anyone else. “I guess it’s self-defense, right?”

  “You got it.” He winks. “Self-defense.”

  I nod my head. “Okay. Teach me.” My voice is full of false bravado. I can do this.

  We walk together out of the shop, the door automatically locking with a click behind us. Ten minutes later, we enter an old rundown building. Getting down into the basement level, he opens a fireproof door to another set of steps. Angelo flicks on the lights and my eyes widen in surprise. It’s a completely new and modern space, totally at odds with the rest of the building. I’ve heard about these underground bunker spaces, but never could have imagined this! He walks me over to a glass cabinet with rows of rifles and guns. Choosing a small handgun from the first row, he pulls it out and brings it with us to a table in the back of the room.

  “Where the hell are we, Angelo?” I look around nervously.

  “Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answers to, doll.” He gently places a hand on my shoulder. “Just stay with me and focus.” He sits down, gesturing with his hand for me to sit beside him.

  “Now Eve, this is a nine-millimeter pistol.” He lifts up the gun. “Some people call it a Glock.” I suck in a sharp inhale of air, scared. “Don’t be afraid.” He puts the gun down and touches my hand; I swallow the excess saliva building in my mouth. Opening a drawer, he pulls out some bullets. Picking up the gun, he demonstrates.

  “You see this button here?” He points. “You press it to eject the magazine. Make sure to insert the ammunition one at a time into the top with the round side toward you until the magazine is full. Then put the magazine back in and up until you hear this click. Now it’s locked.” I nod my head.

  “Before you shoot, you got to make sure the safety is disengaged. Then take your palm like this, and pull the slide to the back and then release it. Now your gun is ready.” I watch him carefully, trying to memorize the steps.

  He has me go through the motions upward of twenty times until I finally start to feel comfortable holding and loading.

  “Good job.” He praises me, as I smile happily. “Now, it’s time for the fun part.” He winks, handing me a set of earplugs and headphones. “Wearing both will protect your ears better.” He walks me to the other end of the shop where I see a target made of paper. It’s a black circle on a white background.

  I put in the earplugs and slide on my headphones, pulling my hair back into a tight ponytail. The rest of my afternoon is spent learning how to shoot the gun. Once I get the hang of it, I don’t want to stop.

  “Can we come back?” I scream, forgetting my ears are totally plugged up. I see, but can’t hear him laughing. Finally, I pull everything out of my ears and repeat myself, in a normal voice. He responds with more laughter, shaking his head.

  “Yeah, we can, sweetheart. Anytime.” He winks and throws a large arm around my shoulders. My heart fills.

  We walk back upstairs and finally leave the building. “It’s always the little ones like you who manage to be the best shots.” His grin has pride written all over it.

  We walk back into the pawnshop together, my purse much heavier. I must admit, I feel a hell of a lot safer now. Stronger, even. My life is my own to protect. If any of those thugs try to get me—

  “Eve?” Angelo says, shaking me out of my thoughts.

  “Yeah?” I turn to him expectantly.

  “College, all right? You’re too good for this shit. I want more for you. Better.”

  “I know.” I nod. “I’m meeting Ms. Levine tomorrow night at her apartment. She’s gonna help me fill out my applications. Deadline is next month, and I gotta get a move on.”

  “That’s my girl.”

  CHAPTER 4

  It’s eight o’clock on Friday night, and my mom just left for work. I’m hanging out on the couch freshly showered, my wet hair wrapped up in a towel, turban-style.

  Other than going to school and back during the week, and Angelo’s on the weekends—I’ve basically been stuck inside my apartment, panicked that Carlos will find me. It’s been two weeks since the incident.

  Janelle asked someone to speak to him, and apparently, he said he’d leave me alone for a while. But what does a while even mean? I gulp, trying to push all thoughts of Carlos from my head. On a positive note, I’ve been reading up a storm. Janelle always tells me I can’t live in a fictional world. Well, I’d beg to differ. I’ve moved from one book to the next so quickly that characters have been getting jumbled up in my head. But, I’d rather that than the alternative of thinking about my own situation.

  “Should we order Dominos? They’ve got some kick-ass coupons going on right now,” Janelle shouts from the kitchen. I look over to see her head stuck inside the refrigerator, probably pushing leftovers around. I’ve been cooking us food all week, and I know we have some good things in there. But a hot slice of pizza sounds amazing right now.

  “Yeah. Let’s do it. Can you make sure to get one of those ranch dipping cups on the side with the cheesy bread?”

  She closes the fridge, smiles right at me. “Hell, yes we can!” I laugh as we hear Juan from the apartment below scream at his mom about not wanting to take out the trash.

  “For the love of all that is holy, that boy needs to grow up already and take out the garbage! The shoot is down the hall for God’s sake!” Janelle’s exasperation at Juan’s antics cracks me up. Our building has a tendency to mirror a bad soap opera; we all can’t help but weigh in on everyone’s business. The walls being paper-thin doesn’t help the situation, either. Unfortunately, I kissed Juan last year at an apartment party a few blocks over. He tried calling me a million times afterward, but I ignored him. When we bumped into each other in the stairwell a few weeks later, he glared at me like I killed
his dog. Suffice it to say, we are no longer on friendly terms.

  “Does he still hate you?” She chuckles.

  “Ugh, yes. I just made out with him and I swear you’d think I took his virginity or something with the clinginess!” I throw my arms up in the air, exasperated.

  “Speaking of virginity—” she starts with a smirk.

  “—Oh, shut it, Janelle. Yes, we all know I’m an eighteen-year-old virgin, blah blah blah.” I roll my eyes.

  “If you’d just stop wearing those baggy clothes and hiding yourself—”

  “I’m not interested in that right now,” I say, effectively cutting her off. “I wear these clothes to cover myself. I need to make sure I don’t give any mixed signals to anyone.”

  She huffs in annoyance as she pulls out her hair and makeup tools. “I’m not going to pretend I like your look these days, because I don’t. I’m doing your hair and makeup tonight. It’s time to remind you that you’re one hundred percent beautiful woman. I wish you’d find yourself a man,” she sighs.

  “I’m going to ignore you and just go with… yay, makeup!”

  Janelle is brilliant in making people beautiful, but still, she has the worst taste in men. I watch as she rummages through her makeup box, gathering what she needs for me. I may not be a girly girl, but it feels good getting dolled up every once in a while, even if I won’t be leaving the apartment.

  She combs my hair and separates it into sections to blow-dry. I’m completely engrossed in a novel while she does some magic with a round hairbrush, turning my hair into what she calls beach waves. Who knows where she comes up with this hair terminology, but in the past few months, she’s done my hair as the leading lady, which is straight and sleek, and the rising star, which are 1950s style ringlets. When my hair is done, she uses two butterfly clips to pull the front of my hair away from my face.

  “Put that book down and look straight ahead.” I do as she asks. Using her fingers, she smears cream all over my face. Tonight, she’s testing out a makeup look called the siren. When she’s finished, she hands me a little handheld mirror. I see black shadows with a hint of sparkle smoking around my large hazel eyes. My cheekbones look incredibly high, shaded with golden bronzer. Wow. Even I have to admit I look good right now.