Dad returns with the open bottle and gestures for us to sit at the dining room table. I take my seat, and Leeyan sits between my father and me.
“Should we taste it?” I suggest.
Dad pours us each a glass. He takes the first sip. “Oh, this is good.” He points at Leeyan. “She has good taste in wine.”
Even if he doesn’t know I chose the wine, having him say he likes it is enough. Leeyan doesn’t seem to think so.
“Actually, Giovanni picked this bottle.” She squeezes my arm.
Dad chokes mid-sip. “Really?” He clears his throat. “Well you must have been a good influence on him. Usually his taste in wine is shit.”
“Okay,” Mom says from the door. “Who is your friend?”
Leeyan stands, and I follow her lead.
“Mom, this is Lee.” I place my hand on the small of Leeyan’s back. It’s a natural movement, one I don’t realize I’ve made until she looks at me. The gesture is one of protection, but who is protecting whom?
“Pink, huh.” Mom doesn’t know what to make of Leeyan’s short colorful hair. “It’s pretty.”
“Pretty in pink,” I joke.
Nobody gets my reference, not even Leeyan.
I sit back down. “I’m starving.”
The spread my mother prepared is enough for ten people, maybe fifteen. We grunt through small talk as we eat. Mom asks a lot of questions about how we know each other, where we met, how long we’ve been dating.
“We’re friends, Ma,” I tell her for the sixth time.
“We’re friends,” she mocks. “But what does that mean these days? Nobody wants to commit. Everyone is friends. Can you marry your friend?”
“If I found the right person, someone I considered a friend…if I loved that person, I would get married.” Leeyan is careful not to drop any pronouns because she isn’t committed to one sex.
“Gio has never brought a girl home.” Mom looks at me with a knowing expression. “That means something. I don’t know what, but it’s something.”
Leeyan stifles a laugh. I choke on a ravioli.
“You never said what you do for a living.” Dad finishes the rest of the wine. “Do you, um, work with our son?”
“No,” Leeyan replies in horror—a little too much horror.
Dad smiles in relief. “Good, that’s good.”
She’s good and I’m bad. Little does he know.
“She just got out of the army,” I blab.
Leeyan kicks me under the table. My parents aren’t that dense. They can put two and two together, especially Mom. She knows Theo’s ex is in the military. I swear I see a light bulb dangle above Mom’s head. She looks at Leeyan as if she’s looking for something. I follow her eyes to a frame on the sideboard. It’s a photo of Lulu.
I need to keep Mom off Leeyan’s scent.
“Are we going to talk about the sold sticker on the sign in front of the house?”
Dad waves his hand in the air. “Don’t worry about it. The buyers are going to change their mind.”
“Even if they do, the house is going to sell at some point. Do you have a plan?”
Leeyan pats my thigh to calm me down, which riles me up in another way. I shove her hand away. She pushes me back.
I look up and find Mom watching us.
I place both of my hands on the table.
“Maggie seems to think you guys are okay with them selling the house.”
“We have faith, Gio. Don’t you worry.” Mom points at me like I’m in trouble. She’s the one on the verge of losing her home because of poor financial planning and I’m being scolded.
“Whatever you need, I’m sure Giovanni will support you.” Leeyan smiles at my mom. She has no clue the can of worms she just popped open.
“Giovanni will support us?” Dad snarls. “With what, his dancing money?”
Leeyan’s mouth falls open. “I meant…”
This time I place my hand on her leg. She shrinks into the chair.
“We don’t need his help. We do fine on our own. He does fine on his own. Nobody bothers anybody. He likes it that way.” Dad shoves his plate away as if the conversation has made him lose his appetite.
Just when I think things can’t get any worse, Leeyan opens her mouth again. “Your son is a very generous, caring, selfless person.”
Oh sweet Jesus, let her choke on a meatball.
“My son only cares about things—cars, clothes, and fancy shoes.” Dad pushes away from the table to stand.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Castillo, but you’re wrong. Giovanni puts the needs of others in front of his own every day. The people he meets never forget his kindness, how he made them feel. Only a special human can make a broken, lonely person feel hopeful again.”
My father isn’t the only person at the table with his mouth hanging open. I’m right there with him.
“I know my son is a good man,” Mom adds. “Maybe too good sometimes.” Her eyes narrow in contempt.
She figured it out.
“We should go.” I stand. “Mom, thank you for dinner.” I lean down to kiss her cheek.
“What about cake?”
“Forget it…”
“I’d love some cake.” Leeyan just won’t stop.
Mom pushes away from the table.
“I’ll put it in a to-go.”
She leaves to pack up half a cake for me.
It’s just Dad and me in the dining room when Leeyan excuses herself to use the bathroom.
“I like her,” he finally says. “Bring her back.”
“We’ll see.”
Chapter Eleven
I always drink half a bottle of whiskey after dinner with my parents. Tonight is no exception. I pull the new bottle of Jameson from the bag and grab two glasses from the cabinet.
“You want?” I hold the bottle up.
“I need.” Even she’s stressed after dinner with my parents. “Let me change first.”
I sit on the sofa and check my phone. I have two missed calls from Jim and six texts from Theo. No-showing is a dick thing to do at the club, and missing tonight will set me back with the Jim. I’ll be lucky if he lets me keep my spot in the rotation.
“Sorry, my dad is kind of a dick.”
Leeyan joins me on the couch, having changed into the gray sweats and an army t-shirt. Her hair is clipped on the left side to keep it off her face. I like this stripped-down version of her.
She pours herself a glass and sits beside me.
“What’s his deal?”
“First off, I quit baseball.”
She makes an ouch face. “That’s my fault, right?”
Yes. “No.”
“The trickle-down effect. Theo left school because I was pregnant and I begged him to come home. You left a month later.”
“I never wanted to be there in the first place. I only went to college because Theo needed me.”
“We both made life-altering choices to please Theo.” She shakes her head. “Except he didn’t knock you up and force you to bail on your dreams.”
“That’s harsh.”
“That’s the truth. I didn’t want to have a kid not at eighteen or even twenty-eight. I know there are women in the world who’d kill to have a baby. The difference between me and them−it’s their choice.”
“Technically, you had choices.”
She looks at me like I’m clueless. “Louisa was Catholic. I let her down by getting pregnant at eighteen by a boy I barely knew. Having an abortion would’ve destroyed her.”
Leeyan is visually emotional at the mention of Louisa. She passed away a year and a half ago of cancer. They didn’t find it until it was too late, she only lived a few months after her diagnosis.
“I didn’t come home for the funeral because I knew if I got on an airplane and flew back here, I’d never want to leave.”
I tell her the service was nice. Dennis, Louisa’s son, spared no expense.
“He inherited everything, so he has a lot to spare.�
�
Her bitter tone tells me all I need to know about her feelings for Dennis.
“Theo thinks Dennis is in love with you.”
“Dennis is a spoiled brat. He only loves himself and money.” She holds her glass to mine. “Sounds like someone else I know.”
“I’m offended.”
“No, you’re not.” She lays her head on the back of the couch and looks up at me. Her lips are pink, smooth.
I wonder what it feels like to kiss them.
“Hello?” She waves her hand in front of my face.
“What?”
“Were you just staring at my mouth?”
She bites her lip.
“No.” Yes.
“I think you were.”
“I don’t look at you like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like a woman.” She looks offended. “I mean, you know, like someone I’d fuck.”
Fuck is harsh. I should have said sleep with or hook up with or find attractive. Everything sounds wrong.
Leeyan places her glass on the coffee table and sits cross-legged, facing me like she’s about to get serious.
“So, I’m not fuckable?”
My palms sweat. “I don’t know.”
“You just said…”
“I said you aren’t someone I’d fuck. I’m sure there are lots of dudes and chicks who would fuck you, just…you know, none that live here.”
“To be clear: you would not fuck me?”
My face is red hot, my dick semi-hard.
“Absolutely not.” I take a shot of whiskey.
Leeyan holds my gaze then picks up her glass.
“Okay, you want to watch a movie?”
If that was a test, I fucking aced it.
I only have one television, and it’s hanging on the wall in my bedroom.
“I have a rule about drinking in bed.”
“You have a lot of rules, Giovanni.”
My name sounds good coming from her lips.
“Let me guess, you want to break them?”
She smiles with half her mouth at my somewhat flirtatious remark.
“I just spent three years in the army, so yeah, I guess you can say I’m ready to break a few rules.”
***
An hour later Leeyan is dancing on the main floor of DV8. It’s an old club in the city with a shitty sound system and crappy bartenders, but I know the DJ because he used to spin at Trance.
“She’s fine.” Tone admires Leeyan from the DJ booth. “How long you been hittin that?”
“She’s strictly friend zone.”
“What a waste.” He takes a swig from his beer as he checks his laptop. Tone doesn’t know Theo, so I feel like it’s safe to be a little honest.
“She’s my boy’s ex. Serious baby-mama drama happening there.”
Tone makes that face dudes make when you’re playing with fire.
“Oh hell no! That isn’t friend zone, bro. That’s the danger zone.”
I know.
I’m hit with a heavy dose of nostalgia as I watch Leeyan on the dancefloor. Her is hair stuck to her forehead, and the strap of her black tank top is sliding down her right shoulder. I imagine an alternate universe where she is mine. A world where she never met Theo, didn’t join the army, and never had Lulu. As soon as I think it I know it’s wrong. Theo and Leeyan may not be meant for each other but Lulu was destined to be born. If that means two wrong people end up together for a brief moment in time, then so be it.
Leeyan looks up at me with a smile and her fingers form the universal sign for drink.
“I’m gonna hit the bar.”
“That ain’t all you’re hittin tonight.” Tone shakes his head at me.
I shake his hand and pat his back before running downstairs before someone intercepts Leeyan. When I get there she already has a drink, courtesy of the bartender, and the girl from the dance floor is hanging on her side with another dude waiting to introduce himself. Leeyan is like a magnetic force, people are drawn to her. I’m one of them.
“Want to get out of here?” There’s way too much competition.
She pounds her drink and takes my hand.
“Let’s go home!”
I like the way that sounds.
My apartment has always been a place of solitude, somewhere to store my clothes and sleep. As much money as I’ve invested in making it look like a place to live, it’s never felt like home until now.
I suggest we walk a few blocks to cool off before booking an Uber. Really, I want to be outside with Leeyan. We spend most of our time cooped up inside. Afraid someone will see us.
“I miss this—walking for the sake of walking. Everything I’ve done for the last three years has been for a purpose. There’s no wasted time. Every second counts.”
“No days off,” I chime in, quoting an inspirational meme I saw online.
“Exactly.” She unravels the hoodie from her waist and slips it on. “I forgot how much fun it was to dance.” She spins and loses her balance slightly.
I grab her forearm to guide her around a wet spot on the sidewalk, and she runs her hand down my arm until our palms are pressed together. Holding hands with Leeyan gives me a knot in my stomach, like I’m in eighth grade and secretly hanging out with my best friend’s girl. It’s becoming increasingly difficult to remember who she is, why she’s here.
“Remember that shirt you used to wear all the time? The one with those fat rainbow bears.” She wore it the night she met Theo.
“Care Bears!” she recalls. Her reply echoes down Fourth Street. “I loved that shirt.”
“Lulu sleeps in it. Theo tied it up so it wouldn’t fall off her.”
She smiles with tears in her eyes.
“It might not seem like it on the outside, but I miss her so much it hurts. I’m scared she’s going to hate me. I’d rather keep pretending she thinks of me with a smile on her face than actually see her smile.” She leans into my side, shivers softly. “That makes me the queen of assholes.”
“We’re all assholes.”
“Not you, not really.” She nudges me. “Look at everything you’ve done for me, and you hate me.”
I don’t correct her; I can’t without divulging my feelings. “I have assholeness in me.”
She stops walking. “Name one thing you’ve done that would make me stop and say, ‘He’s an asshole.’”
“I’m moving to another country, so I won’t be here to see them tossed out on the street, eating out of garbage cans.”
"You're really going to move to Brazil?"
This is the first time I've mentioned my move. I know she snoops, but we've never actually talked about it.
"Yes, it's a dream job."
"You're going to live your dream..."
"And my parents are going to be homeless."
"You still have time to do the right thing.”
“Like what? I’m moving in a matter of months." I feel her stiffen at the thought of me leaving.
Leeyan is strong on the outside, but inside she's vulnerable and scared. Right now, I'm the reason she hasn't fallen apart. She needs me, even if she'll never admit it.
“Okay, well, maybe you can sublet your apartment to them.”
I try to imagine my mother shopping at Whole Foods downtown. She still goes to the same neighborhood produce market and grocery store from my childhood. It sells more organic and gluten-free food now, but it’s familiar.
“My parents hate change.”
“Change for the sake of change isn’t the same as change to survive. When those instincts kick in, they’ll appreciate your offer.”
I don’t even know if I can sublet my place. I’m only in that building because Antonia pulled some strings. Also, there’s no way my parents can afford the rent unless I find a way to help them—am I willing to do that?
My phone rings, and at this hour, it’s most likely a job, one I should take but won’t because I’m too involved with my houseguest.
“Who is it?” Leeyan tries to sneak a look as I pull my phone out.
“It’s Antonia.”
“Are you going to answer it?”
“No.” I deny the call and shove my phone deep into my pocket.
Leeyan shrinks in my arms. “I’m totally fucking up your life.” She hiccups. “If I wasn’t here…if I had balls.”
“You just need more time.”
“Maybe too much time has passed. Lulu doesn’t know me. I don’t know her. I don’t even know how she eats her oatmeal. Does she like raisins or blueberries? Does Theo let her add extra brown sugar? Does she prefer Cream of Wheat?”
I laugh even though she's not trying to be funny.
“That’s the kind of thing I thought about when I was in Germany. Trivial things like can she read, is she potty-trained. Even though the answers were a phone call away, I felt like I didn’t deserve to know, like I lost the right to care because I left.”
We stop walking and I take her by the shoulders. “You have every right to miss Lulu. She is your daughter no matter where you are.”
Her eyes are blurry. “The rules aren’t the same for women. I saw it firsthand. Women on base were constantly questioned about the kids they left behind, how their husband feels about having a wife in the military. Never once did I witness a man getting grilled for leaving his family.”
She’s right. If the tables were turned, nobody would see Theo as a selfish prick for wanting to serve and protect. Even I’m guilty of this behavior. Nobody was as harsh to Leeyan as me.
“I’m sorry. I had no right judge you, to say all those nasty things the day you left.”
“It’s okay, you were protecting Theo. Honestly, I knew he’d be fine without me because he had you. We didn’t see eye-to-eye on a lot of things but when it came to Theo, we were always on the same page. I never set out to hurt him. I was just trying to save myself.”
I kiss her on the forehead. There’s nothing friendly about the way my lips linger against her salty skin.
She leans in closer. “I’m scared, Gio.”
“Scared of what?”
“Of this. I should want to see my daughter more than I want to be here with you.”
Her words cause a stir, and not just in my pants.
“You’ve done so much for me. I wish I could…”
She stops midsentence and closes her eyes. I wait a few seconds, hoping she’ll finish. Instead, she rests her head against my chest. We stand on the empty street, holding each other in the dark. People hurry past, determined not to ruin our moment. It’s common courtesy among nightcrawlers.
Side Game (Men of Trance Book 2) Page 11
