Cut & Blow_Book Three

by Ashleigh Giannoccaro

  “Shit.”

  “You got anything to drink?” he asks, standing up.

  “I do.” We go to the kitchen where I warm my dinner and Rat pours a whiskey. “How will we know if it’s true?” I ask.

  “The family won’t say anything until everything is arranged and Rain has a handle on business.”

  I want to text her and ask. I want to know if she’s okay. These unwarranted concerns make me doubt myself, they make me wonder if it really is her playing games or if she’s already won. “But, I’m family and the Russians expect me to be… well, they expect me to be their Rat.”

  “Fuck.”

  “Yeah, fuck is about right.” He empties his glass and pours another. “Let’s talk about something else. Like what is this crap you are watching? Do you not have ESPN?”

  “Ladies getting their hair cut don’t talk about ESPN, sometimes I need to keep up with the latest shit TV.” I get defensive. Rat laughs and walks around looking for the remote to change the channel.

  “Well now you can talk to me and I want to talk about baseball, or the crime channel, not this shit.” He flips until he finds the sports news and flops on my sofa like he lives here.

  I sit on the single seater wingback chair and feign interest in what he’s watching. I scroll through my social media and even check Tumblr to see if she’s posted. There are videos, but I know they are old because I do her hair and it’s changed since then. I feel ill thinking about the fact that I styled her hair so she could go and fuck him on camera.

  Jealousy really does turn you green. My dinner makes it way up my throat and I swallow it back down. When I look up from my phone Rat is asleep on the sofa. He’s strange, yet familiar all at once. Leaving him and his sports highlights I go to shower and get into bed. I have to open up before eight tomorrow. If I don’t get some sleep, I’ll have no friends left at all.

  I wake up at two in the morning to the sound of Rat stumbling around. I had almost forgotten about him and jolt aware with a fright. My heart is pounding and I try to calm myself down, but I’m not going back to sleep in a hurry.

  I lie awake, looking at the ceiling, wondering about Viv. The thought of her gets me hard and I fight the urge to jack off; I have a house guest after all.

  As I’m dozing off again there’s a violent knock at my bedroom door — I’m going to regret inviting him in, I can feel it.

  “Yeah.”

  “Get up, I need you.”

  “Are you fucking kidding?”

  “Not even a little bit man, get up.”

  Ugh. I roll over and go open the bedroom door. “What? Seriously I have work at eight.”

  “You need to call her.”

  “I’m not calling Viv at …” I look around. “What time is it? Three in the morning? She’s not talking to me. I hit it and ran, remember.”

  “The old man died. I need to know stuff and you’re the only person who knows I’m here. I need you to kiss and make up, or whatever.”

  I rub my eyes. I knew there was a reason I never went into the family business. “I’ll text her. I am not calling anyone at three in the morning.”

  Are you okay?

  I’m fine.

  Don’t lie. I know.

  No one knows. Who told you.

  It doesn’t matter. Are you okay?

  You don’t get to care, you don’t get to ask if I’m okay! I’m not okay. I am in a world of fucking trouble and you apparently know what just happened. NO, I’M NOT OK. Who told you?

  No one told me. Do you want me to come to you?

  No. Fuck you. How do you know? I’m serious, Romeo, this isn’t meant to be public knowledge.

  I just know.

  I smell a fucking rat. Do not tell anyone.

  I’m going to pretend you never said that. And, I’m not telling anyone. I’m asking if you are alright.

  I’m fine. Please just fuck off.

  “Listen, she’s not going to tell me shit.” I hand him my phone so he can see her messages. “You need a better plan than me. Maybe you should call Chels.”

  “Are you fucking mad? Don’t you dare tell her I’m here!” he yells at me. “You need to be nice to Viv.”

  “Are you kidding? She pursued me to see if she could get in my pants and prove I’m not gay. Then I fucked her and left. It’s safe to say that we’re past the nice stage.”

  He shoves the phone back at me. “She’s awake. Call her.”

  “No.”

  “Listen, you can lie to her, to yourself, to the whole world, but I can tell you’ve caught fucking feelings for her. Call her. She’s going to need a shoulder to cry on. It’d better be yours.”

  He stomps off and minutes later I hear the front door bang shut. I hate having a roomie already. Not even one full night in and I hate it. I throw myself back on the bed and pray he doesn’t return.

  When my alarm goes off, I want to kill it with fire. It’s like I am hungover without actually drinking anything the night before.

  Looking less than stellar I walk to work and open up for the day. Thankfully I manage two cups of coffee before anyone else comes in. I’m in the kitchen replaying the bizarre events of last night when Ailee comes in. She looks wrecked. Her eyes are red and puffy and I can tell she’s got no makeup on.

  “Hey,” I say, turning to hand her a cup of coffee.

  “Hey. Umm, I’m going to need you to take over for a while. Chels has the baby and she can’t really be here after hours, you also know more than the others.”

  “Sure. Are you guys okay?” Viv must’ve told her about my text.

  She looks at me, I can see she’s not okay.

  “I don’t know how I feel about it all, it’s a lot. Not just the loss, but the fact that Rain will be in charge. It scares me.” She wraps her hands around the mug of coffee and leans against the counter. “I knew this is what it would be, I always knew. It’s just real now.” She blinks back tears. “We were just talking about starting a family, now I’m afraid to even think about having children.”

  She just confirmed what Rat told me.

  “How are Rain and Viv?”

  “He’s focused, not really dealing with feelings, and Viviana is having a meltdown because Val doesn’t want to come home. We all deal with grief differently.”

  “Val isn’t coming home?” I’m shocked that Rain hasn’t sent someone to fetch her.

  “She has exams and said she just can’t face it.”

  “Viv is going to fall to pieces, isn’t she?”

  Ailee nods, and takes a long sip of her coffee. “Rain has me, she’s got no one.”

  I know that feeling all too well. I buried my mother alone.

  Ailee puts her cup down and shoves her hands in her pockets. “So, you okay here? I can trust you with things?”

  “It’ll be fine, don’t worry about work.”

  “I always worry, Romi, and I swear I will pay you extra for this.”

  She must have read my mind. “It’s fine, Ailee,” I say, but I really wouldn’t mind the extra money.

  “Thank you.” She smiles at me, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. I can’t imagine what she’s feeling. I would be afraid too. The criminal underbelly doesn’t cope well with change — ever.

  Fourteen

  Spiced Amber

  VIVIANA:

  I don’t know how he knows, but I also don’t have time to care. I just lost my father and the past few days have been the hardest of my life. Add to it the hostile calls and messages from Calvin and I really don’t have time for Romeo and his games.

  My face looks like ash when I look in the mirror. The bags under my eyes look like I’m a meth addict on my third day of detox. My hair is a rat’s nest, and my arms are too heavy to lift in an effort to fix it.

  I need to get to the house and help my gran. There will be extended family in and out all day today, and she is tired and emotional. I pull my hair up in a messy top-knot and haul on a dusty-pink dress with gold pumps. I manage some lipgloss
and a pair of dark sunglasses before I leave.

  On the drive over, I allow myself to cry, because I’m trying to be strong around my family but I am falling apart. I park behind Rain’s motorcycle and check myself in the mirror before I get out.

  I can smell the flowers already. The pollen assaults me as I open the front door, and three paces behind me is another delivery man from the florist. I’m going to spend all day sneezing. I dial my sister’s number, hoping she’s changed her mind, and will not only take my call but tell me she’s on her way home. But, it rings off and I get her voicemail, which is full, because I filled it.

  “Ciao Nonna,” I greet my gran as I enter her kitchen.

  She gives me a nod and tosses an apron to me. “Ciao bella, how are you today?”

  “I’m okay Nonna.” My two aunts come in from the back porch. “Ciao Zia,” I greet them, before I’m wrapped in their arms and being suffocated in an unwanted hug.

  It’s like they squeezed the tears out of me and I start to cry again. When they let me go I wipe my eyes on the apron, and then put it on.

  “What can I help with?’ I ask, and three older woman start giving me orders. I’m glad for it. If I’m busy there’s no time to think about everything, no time to feel the agony of this loss.

  Being busy is better than being sad. The small talk is better than the silence, anything is better than the hollow empty truth. Both our parents are gone.

  It’s dark when I leave. My brother hugs me on the sidewalk next to my car and his strong arms hold my tattered soul together for a moment.

  “We’ll be okay.”

  I don’t know how to tell him that I’m already lost. All I have done since mom died is take care of dad, and now I literally have nothing to do. No friends, no sister, no one waiting for me to make their lunch or call them at the end of the day. I’m alone.

  “I know,” is all I manage to say in response. I’m exhausted, my teary eyes just want to close and yet I know I won’t sleep a wink.

  “Let me follow you home, you’re tired. You shouldn’t even be driving.”

  “I’m fine, really, Rain.” I shake my head and open my car door. “Go home to your wife. It’s late.” Ailee left hours ago. Somehow, I think they may be avoiding one another’s feelings. Emotions are not exactly Rain’s strong suit. “I will see you at the funeral home in the morning.”

  He closes my door for me. “Lock it. And text me when you get home.” He taps on the window until I lock my door.

  His overprotective bullshit is only going to get worse now.

  Putting my car in gear I drive off, leaving my big brother on the sidewalk, staring at the sky. I wonder if he’s praying, or talking to dad.

  I watch him in my mirrors as I drive away. He looks just like my dad did fifteen years ago before he went gray. Rain’s temples are already turning white, and with the added stresses now he will probably turn gray early too. I smile at the thought of him going gray.

  I just enjoy the silence of the drive home; no radio, or idle chatter, just quiet. By the time I park my car in the basement of my building I’m in floods of tears. They won’t stop coming even when I tell myself to stop.

  Thankfully the elevator is empty and no one can witness me sobbing. Watching myself ugly-cry in the wall to wall mirrors only makes it worse. I fish my keys out of my bag one floor before mine and wait for the ding of the elevator stopping.

  My shoes are hurting my feet and my bra is killing me. I cannot wait to get inside and take them both off. I’m texting Rain as I walk down the hall to my door, and when I look up, leaning against the wall with his arms folded across his chest and his dark hair hanging in his eyes, is Romeo. His white t-shirt clings to his body and his ripped jeans hug his legs. I shouldn’t look at him like that, but I can’t help it. Then I remember the last time he was here and my whole body tenses.

  “Hi,” he says as I get closer, nervously running his hand through his hair.

  “Hi.” I can’t look at him. I’m a train wreck and I don’t want him to see me this way.

  “I wanted to check that you’re okay,” he says, standing a few steps away. “Ailee said Val isn’t coming home. I was worried. I thought maybe you’d want some company. I can just go.” He’s jittery, talking too fast and shuffling his feet.

  “I’m not okay, but you can come in.” I unlock the door and turn on the light.

  Romi shuts the door behind us. When I turn around and he sees my blotchy red face in the light, he comes closer and puts his arms around me. Hugging me to his chest, one hand holds my head against him. His heartbeat is racing. I can hear it thudding where my ear is pressed against his chest. He doesn’t need to say anything, just this is enough right now.

  “I’m so sorry,” he says, and for the first time today the words seem genuine.

  I step back to look up at him and his dark eyes are filled with concern. “Thank you.” I don’t know what I’m supposed to say. All day I’ve struggled to find the right response to all the “I’m sorry’s”, yet nothing seems like the right thing to say. “Come in,” I say, because we’re standing in the entrance and it’s awkward.

  He follows me into the living room where I dump my bag on the table and kick off my shoes.

  “Can I make you a coffee while you go have a shower, or a bath?” he asks.

  I know I’m a mess and he can obviously see it too. “That would be good, thanks. Can you find what you need, or must I—”

  “Go shower. I’ll find the cups and can work a coffee machine, Viv.” He smiles at me.

  It draws the first unforced smile out of me today. “Thanks.” I leave him alone in my kitchen.

  It’s like heaven when I get my bra off and step under the warm water of the shower. Steam fills up the whole room and I take my time to shampoo and condition my knotted hair. I even shave my legs — not because there’s a hot guy in my house, but because I just want to feel clean.

  Smelling like Nonna’s kitchen wore off hours ago. I wash away my day with magnolia scented body-wash that smells pretty and girly.

  After what is probably an hour I get out, wrap myself in a towel and go to my room. I pull on a tank top and a pair of soft shorts; it’s too hot for anything else. As I’m about to comb out my hair Romeo knocks at my door, and when I spin around he’s standing there with a cup of steaming hot coffee. He comes into my room and hands me the cup, then takes my hairbrush.

  “Sit.” He says, motioning for the chair by the dresser. When I do he runs his hands through my hair. “Can I?” he asks, holding the brush up.

  I’m so tired that I just nod my head. My mother used to comb my hair out before bed every night and this tender gesture brings back those memories.

  Romeo watches me in the mirror while he slowly works through my knots and tangles, so gently and carefully. Once my matted locks are silky smooth and straight, he braids it perfectly.

  Placing my empty cup on the dresser, I spin around to face him now. My heart flutters. I will it to stop. I’m supposed to be grieving my father’s death, not falling in love. This is just misplaced grief, that’s what it is.

  He bends down and kisses my forehead. “Get into bed and get some sleep, Viv.”

  Before I know what I’ve said, I ask him. “Lie with me, please.” He doesn’t say anything, he just turns out the light and toes off his shoes.

  I open up the covers and crawl onto the crisp, clean sheets. The smell of laundry softener and the cool fabric welcome me in. Romeo climbs onto the other side of the bed, on top of the covers, fully clothed. He obviously reads my confused facial expression.

  “I didn’t come here for that, Viv. I came here to be your friend. Get some sleep, you don’t want to wake up to bad decisions in the morning.”

  He lies dead straight on his back, arms folded across his chest, and closes his eyes. I have never wanted to punch a man more than I do right now.

  Fifteen

  Dark Grey Blue

  ROMEO:

  I was ready to
leave, to give up and just go home. It was a stupid idea anyway. But when I saw her red eyes I just wanted to make her feel better. To take it all away. Something Ailee said triggered me and I couldn’t leave it be, I couldn’t let her be alone.

  Now I’m staring at her ceiling while she sulks beside me. I’m not touching her like that tonight. I don’t know what she thought, but it’s not happening. She’s falling to pieces and sex isn’t the answer. She already has an unhealthy and jaded view of sex. I’m not going to add to that. I won’t.

  Playing stupid games isn’t what I want, and definitely isn’t what she needs right now. Viv needs a friend, not another fuck-buddy who doesn’t care. She tosses and turns, huffing and sighing. I just smile and shut my eyes.

  Sometime during the night, I take off my pants because sleeping in skinny jeans is not practical. It’s too hot, but also they cut off the circulation to all sorts of body parts.

  When I get back into bed she curls herself into me, her head on my chest, her arm draped over me. Looking at her clean face, I can see just how hard she’s been crying. The moonlight coming in through the window highlights her cheekbones and dances over her bare shoulders. I trace the line it makes with my finger. The silk of her skin is softer than it looks in the videos.

  Watching her sleep, I get a jealous tick just thinking about how he has been with her, how everyone who watches those videos has seen her like that. Admitting it even to myself is difficult. I want her. I want this. Viv should fall asleep on me every night.

  No one else should be allowed to witness her vulnerable and soft moments. This girl has crawled under my skin and I don’t know what to do with that. I could wrap her in my arms and absorb the hurt that is ripping her apart.

  I would never let her go. I’d do anything for her, and she doesn’t even know that. I didn’t know that until right now, watching her chest rise and fall against me. Nothing has felt this right in ages, and if all I ever get is this moment in the moonlight I will go crazy for wanting more of these moments.