by Addison Jane
“You met someone?” I asked in confusion. “Was he an asshole?”
This time the smile was genuine as she looked up and found my eyes. It was a smile of pure happiness, a smile that could never be faked. “No, he was perfect actually. But it ended last week.”
I threw my hands in the air. “Um… why? If he was perfect, shouldn’t you be chasing him? Hunting him down. Marrying him. Getting pregnant accidentally so you can keep him?” I ranted, only half kidding on that last one.
She reached out and shoved my shoulder. “That’s not even funny, young lady.”
“It was, too,” I argued, rolling my eyes.
She held a straight face for at least ten seconds before caving and letting out a hushed giggle. “I’m not doing any of those things. There are just some people who aren’t meant to be together, Emmy.”
“How can you say that when you’re obviously so miserable?”
“I let him go, and now there’s no way to get him back.” Her smile slipped again, and it’s like a shadow had fallen over her, dragging her into a place she’d much rather forget. “It’s best for everyone this way. He knows it, and so do I.”
“Sophie…” I started, reaching out to grab her hand.
Her eyes seemed haunted, like this one decision had altered her entire life, like there was no escape from the pain she was feeling after losing him. The sounds of the trees swaying and the leaves brushing filled the silence between us as I stared at her in awe. My chest ached, seeing this woman who I idolized and looked up to, being in so much pain and feeling so much heartache. I could tell whoever this guy was, he was special, he meant more to her than any other relationship she’d had.
But she’d forced him away, and now, it was like there was no turning back.
She’d made her decision, and somehow she had to deal with it.
Possibly forever.
I allowed the gentle breeze to soothe us, the warm air floating around and whipping at our hair.
“Did you… love him?” I asked softly, drawing a genuine twitch of a smile.
“Yeah,” she answered simply, her eyes moving from mine to the pool where soft waves rolled across the pristine surface, sparkling in the sunlight.
“Then it’s not over,” I told her with complete confidence. “It’s love. Love is never really over.”
I was standing in the kitchen laughing as I watched Ava create some kind of cocktail out of the large array of drinks and alcohol that were lined up across the counter. There were also a couple of kegs spread around along with food trays and snacks. I may not throw parties often, but when I do, it’s done right. We’d even organized, and prepaid, a handful of taxis to shuttle people from town since I lived right on the edge and away from the college where most people would be coming from.
There were no excuses for anyone to drink and drive.
People were slowly filling my house, and I tried not to be nervous about it, knowing that I hardly knew most of them.
Sophie like the amazing person she was, was playing the perfect host. She’d had a lot more practice at this than I had.
The girls and I attended parties here and there, but I was always so scared of my father finding out what I was doing that I often bailed early. It was the fear of him ripping away my dancing that scared me the most. He paid for everything, and I was constantly told that if I didn’t do this, then I would be letting my family down.
It did my head in. I was angry at myself for being so complacent, so easily walked over. It was like I knew it was happening, but I was so scared of losing the one thing that was most important to me, that any time I even thought of opposing my father, I froze.
I was weak when it came to him.
The people who were meant to empower me, and lift me up toward my goals and dreams, were the ones who had crushed every thought of even pursuing them.
“Who are you murdering in your head?” Sophie laughed as she wrapped her arm around my shoulders, drawing me from my daydream—or nightmare, I should say.
I chuckled. “I have a few people in mind. I’m just not sure where to start.”
She grinned, her perfectly white teeth and bright red lipstick lighting up the room. “Go for the jugular, Emmy. If they’ve done you wrong, you make sure they know it.”
“You’re ruthless,” Ava called out from across the kitchen, staring at Sophie in complete admiration. “I love it!”
I almost choked as I watched her mindlessly pour alcohol into what I was apparently meant to be drinking. “You’re going to kill me with all that vodka,” I told her loudly, raising my voice over the music that filled the house. People were mingling and laughing, and it brought a smile to my face to see everyone having such a good time.
Ava glared at me across the counter. “You’re going to drink this, and you’re going to smile and tell me you like it. So help me God.”
I held my hands up and giggled, knowing I would do just that rather than face her wrath.
“What did I tell you?”
I spun around to see Max’s smiling face weaving through the crowd. As I stepped away from Sophie he enveloped me in a tight hug, and I grinned as he pulled back.
“Yeah, yeah,” I told him, rolling my eyes before narrowing them. “Where are my balloons? You said there’d be balloons.”
He chuckled, leaning in and giving me a kiss on the cheek. “Sorry, I’ll bring them next time.”
I pouted for a second, but couldn’t help but smile when his face sunk. “I can go get—” He soon realized I was joking, and shoved my arm before making his way around to where Ava was still creating her concoction, and finding himself a drink.
It was so easy with my friends. Max, Ava, Leah, and Sophie saw me for who I was and were always there when I needed them, without fault. They gave me time to just be me, and in a world where I was always fighting to be what my father wanted, that was something I desperately needed.
“You want me to make you a drink, Emmy?” he asked, as he frowned at the glass Ava was mixing.
She quickly shot him a glare, and he backed away a step. “I’m making her a drink,” Ava snapped.
“You need me to find you some eye of newt to go in that?” Max asked sarcastically.
Ava seemed to seriously consider it for a moment, and I screwed up my nose in disgust. “Don’t even think about it,” I told her sternly, pointing my finger.
Sophie’s musical laugh filled the room as she grabbed my hand and pulled me from the kitchen. “Quick, let’s go find the keg before she poisons you.”
“Hey!” Ava protested as Sophie dragged me away out the patio doors, the both of us laughing while Ava abused us from inside.
She was quickly drowned out by the music, though, the large speakers we had sitting outside on my massive porch boomed around us. Guys and girls were dancing, laughing, enjoying themselves and it built me up.
We made a quick stop at the keg and poured ourselves drinks.
“I love this!” Sophie grinned excitedly, as we walked past the grinding and thrusting to a group of chairs by the pool. “These are my people.”
I giggled. “I’m glad they’re someone’s people because they aren’t really mine.”
She rolled her eyes. “What are you talking about, Emmy? Look at them dancing. You’re a dancer, too.”
I took a seat, holding my cup firmly in my hands, feeling it fizz inside. “I don’t dance like this. You know that.”
“Maybe you should start,” she said with a shrug. “Let loose, have some fun once in a while, without worrying how Mom and Dad will react.”
I sipped at my beer, the bitter taste matching the emotions that were furiously building inside me. I couldn’t squash them. “That’s easy for you to say when you can do no wrong.”
I regretted the words the instant they left my mouth. It wasn’t Sophie’s fault that my parents saw her as their golden child, the one who could go out and do whatever she wanted as long she kept her nose reasonably clean. Socialites were ex
pected to party, they were expected to be a little crazy, and draw the spotlight to them. It was how they got noticed, and how they acquired jobs. People gravitated toward shows and movies that starred popular celebrities and actors.
She seemed to slump, and I scooted forward on my chair. “I’m sorry, Soph, I didn’t mean that.”
Soph tried to smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “It’s okay, Emmy. I know that’s how you feel, and you’re right. But don’t think I don’t feel as guilty as hell for it.”
I frowned. “What do you mean?”
“I see how much Dad pushes you, and I watch you sink back into yourself.” Her eyes looked up at me, a sadness within them that was rare on a face I always remembered being so beautiful and happy. “I hate it. I want more for you. I want you to follow your dreams and fight for what makes you happy. I know that’s dancing, not this stupid lawyer bullshit that you’re doing.”
I couldn’t speak. I knew that Sophie supported me, but I didn’t know that she felt so much passion about it.
“I’ve felt regret, Emmy,” she said so softly that I barely made out the words over the music that thumped in the background. I sat forward, needing to hear her. “I know how it feels to pass something up, simply because you don’t think people will approve, or because you know what kind of shitstorm it could bring. I don’t want that for you.”
I shook my head. “A shitstorm is exactly right. Could you imagine what Dad would rain down on me if I told him I wanted to dance instead?”
Her eyes sparkled, and she sat up straight. “Storms don’t last forever, Emmy.”
“Maybe you should take your own advice,” I threw back with a smile. I knew that when she was talking about a shitstorm that she was meaning, whatever it was she had going on with this guy. I could tell. My sister was strong, unfazed by almost anything. She held her head with pride and never let anyone bring her down.
But this was hurting her.
She threw her head back and laughed. “Like I said, little sister, that ship has sailed out of the harbor.”
“Best you start swimming then.”
Before she could answer, Ava called out to us as she, Leah and Max hurried over to where we sat. “Sophie! Tell me it’s true.”
They all fell into chairs around us, creating a small circle of the people I loved the most in my life.
“It’s not true,” Sophie replied quickly with a short, sharp laugh. Ava’s face sank. “Don’t believe any of that crap they put in magazines and on E!”
Leah and Max chuckled, but Ava looked like someone had just kicked her puppy. “But… but… they said you’d dated Nate from Recoil.”
I rolled my eyes, Ava had an unhealthy obsession with the boys from the rock band Recoil. They were all sexy as hell, and they damn well knew it, but honestly, who could blame them. They were the whole package, and they knew their craft well. As an artist, I could admire that. I think Ava’s heart was broken when she found out that they were all finally off the market though, her dreams were crushed.
“Oh,” Sophie hid her smirk with her beer, muttering behind it. “That one’s true.”
“Yes!” Ava crowed, leaping to her feet and throwing her fist in the air. “Three degrees of separation. You dated Nate, you’re Emerson’s sister, I’m Emerson’s best friend. I practically know Nate.”
Max held up a finger. “I’m pretty sure that’s not—”
“Quiet in the cheap seats,” Ava scolded, pressing her hand into his face as she looked at Sophie in complete awe. “So… are those other rumors true?”
Sophie raised a brow, and I shook my head, almost embarrassed but also very amused.
“What rumors would those be?” Sophie asked carefully.
“You know…” she drawled, flicking her eyes down and then back up. When everyone continued to stare at her in confusion, she did it again more pointedly.
Eventually getting frustrated, she threw her hands in the air. “Is his dick huge?”
“Ava!” I screamed, howling with laughter.
Sophie spat her drink out, coating Ava’s shoes and coughing frantically as she tried to take air into her lungs.
“Ava! You just killed Sophie Rossi,” Leah said in absolute horror.
“Oh my fuck,” Sophie wheezed. “Warn me next time… you’re gonna ask… how big someones, um… cock is.”
Max stared on in uncomfortable horror, while Leah rushed over and started to slap Sophie on the back.
Ava’s face didn’t change though, she was completely serious, staring at Sophie like this answer would change her life forever. “So?”
“I need another drink,” Sophie said quickly, standing and heading for the house, but Ava was on her heels.
“Please! I’m part of the Nate-tion, my people need to know the truth,” she pleaded as she followed her inside, leaving us still laughing.
The rest of the party went off without a hitch, people came, they drank, they let loose, then they went home safely.
It was so good to have Sophie around, to pull me out of my shell and remind me of who I really was. I knew though, despite her encouragement, that come Monday when she left, everything would return to normal. I heard what she was saying, I listened to the words, but when it came down to it I wasn’t ready to take the risk yet.
Dancing kept me alive.
I couldn’t risk losing it because I knew that if I did, I would die.
My phone ringing dragged me from my sleep, and I quickly leaped from the bed and grabbed it from the side table. “Yeah,” I answered groggily, scrubbing at my face as I fought to pay attention.
“I need you to come down to the ring,” Gio’s voice growled through the phone.
I frowned. “Why?”
Gio rarely asked for any kind of help or assistance, he was very much independent and got the job done no matter fucking what.
“Because I can’t get hold of Dad and I have a guy here who’s been asking too many fucking questions, and I don’t have the damn patience,” he rambled angrily. Gio didn’t like to be questioned. We may have grown up with each other, but a brotherly relationship was something we didn’t have. But then, Gio didn’t have relationships full stop. “If you leave it to me, I’ll fucking kill him before we get any answers.”
“Don’t fucking kill him,” I sighed, shaking my head, knowing he’d do just that if I didn’t hurry. “I’ll be there in thirty minutes.”
The trip downtown took less than twenty minutes. I liked to keep everything close by in case of times like these when we were needed urgently.
Giovanni was Anthony’s eldest son now after his first born Kenneth was killed. Kenneth wasn’t discussed within the household. It would never be admitted outside of the family, but he had a serious mental issue and many years ago went rogue. When Anthony found out exactly what trouble he’d involved himself in, his death hadn’t come as a surprise, but more like a blessing.
Gio stepped up and took his place as the eldest child. His crew mostly ran the underground scene for the family. Fighting rings and paid hits. You’d be surprised how many people came to the family, looking to take someone out. Greedy husbands and wives, people looking to climb the ladder in their business, children wanting inheritance money, or just out of pure vengeance.
That was Gio’s job.
He was the family’s hitman.
And he was good at it.
A vibrant child that had turned into a numb man. The blood on his hands had seeped into his skin, and I wasn’t sure there was any way to wash it off.
Gio’s voice hadn’t sounded too strained, but I was used to that kind of lack of emotion from him. Since he started taking hits, it was like he turned into a robot almost. Sometimes, I even wondered whether he was still able to hold and understand human emotions, he’d allowed himself to become so anesthetized.
What did make me hurry was that he had called me to come and help. Something which he definitely wouldn’t need when it came to brute strength. We’re pretty evenly m
atched, but Gio was also a fighter, a well-trained, very lethal fighter. If this guy was really asking questions, we needed to find out why before Gio got his hands on him.
The fight club that he ran was beneath a popular DePalma owned night club in Brooklyn. It was small and private and open to invite only. I walked past the line waiting at the front door, men and women, young and old, anxiously waiting to be let inside the raving club despite it still being very early.
Andre and Samuele trailed behind me as I stepped up to the bouncer. His eyes looked up at me in annoyance but quickly changed to one of respect and fear.
“Mister Moretti, Gio is waiting for you downstairs,” he told me with a sharp nod, stepping to the side to allow me to pass through.
“Thank you,” I responded as I walked by, the bass of the music thumping through my body as I stepped inside the club.
Several more security members opened doors and allowed us to pass through, each dipping their head respectfully. The final one led us downstairs into the basement, and as I reached the final step, the noise of flesh against flesh and men roaring and cheering hit me like a sledgehammer. The air was muggy and thick inside the concrete room. It held around fifty people, plus two men inside a floor to ceiling cage. Blood dripped from their faces. One was barely able to keep himself on his feet, while the other had an arm that hung limply at his side, flopping around as though it was made of rubber. They snarled and sneered at each other, making jerky movements that they hoped would throw their opponent off their game.
Men of all different types taunted them, calling out anything they could, desperately wanting their fighter to win—the stakes in the room higher than any other fight you would see.
This wasn’t your typical fight, this was a death match.
Winner take all.
You could practically taste the blood thirst in the room, it seeped into your pores, the atmosphere breeding rabid money hungry vultures that would give up their own family members just to come here and watch a man bleed, watch his life slip slowly from this world and into that of another.
It was something so powerful watching a man’s last breath, and these men, they craved it. It was like a high, an addiction, the smell of blood almost like an aphrodisiac, leaving them lusting for more.
