Kristine sprang from her chair, nearly tripping over the strap of her purse. “Let me help.” Taking the box from her hands, she kicked the strap of her purse back under the chair.
“Any word when they are taking her down for the test?”
Kristine carefully laid the box on the chair, removing the power cord and plugging her laptop into a free socket. “Not yet, they’re working hard to get her down there, but Grady isn’t a huge hospital. With what I would guess is a result of the accident, radiology is backed up.”
Rose rummaged through the first bag, one she shoved a few things from her home into, pulling out a fluffy blanket and handing it to Kristine. “You’re gonna need this tonight. Hospitals can be drafty, and you’re a tiny thing.”
Kristine took the offered blanket, cradling it to her chest, the freshly laundered scent a welcomed addition to the bleak room.
Rose reached into the pocket of her jeans. “I saw this on your dresser, figured now was a good time to put it to use.”
Kristine held out her hand, smiling brightly as the cool feel of the beads of her rosary hit the skin of her palm, much like the fuzzy blanket the emotions it brought forth are welcomed.
“I brought you some of my homemade potato soup as I figured you haven’t eaten since last night.”
Kristine’s stomach rumbled at the mention of the legendary soup. She recalled with fondness how every time she was home sick from school, Rose would bring over a bowl of it, the healing powers it held something Kristine would have considered pouring into one of the IV bags at Granny’s beside.
“Thank you, Rose. I wouldn’t know what to do without you.”
“You’re welcome. Now you go down the hall,” pointing in the direction she came from. “There is a microwave the nurse said was okay to use, you go heat up your food and take a break. I’ll watch Birdie until you get back.”
Kristine shifted for the hundredth time in an attempt to get comfortable in the plastic chair. While the blanket served its purpose, and kept her warm, the unforgiving surface did little for her now numb butt cheeks. Rose begrudgingly left a few hours ago, her ability to see at night too worrisome for Kristine as the last thing she needed was two sick people to take care of in the hospital.
Gaining a slightly more comfortable position, she was startled when the alarm on her phone sounded, alerting her to approaching the start time of the fight she and her Granny were supposed to watch. Silencing the alarm, she thought for the briefest of moments to skipping the match, but the advice the nurse gave earlier resonated inside her head, maybe, just maybe if she played the fight, Granny would wake up, and they could figure out what happened to her.
Typing away on her keyboard, Kristine hummed to herself, grateful for the silver lining in all of this of the fast speed of the hospital’s internet. Her excitement grew ten-fold when the site she used to stream the less popular matches came in crystal clear.
“There he is Granny,” Kristine whispered. “Your new favorite, Kane Cavallo.”
Kristine’s eyes remained on her Granny’s face, her heart in her throat and fingers crossed her eyes would flutter open. But as the door opened and several people pushing a bed on wheels entered the door, Kristine’s hope sank.
She watched as they moved cords and IV poles, sliding her Granny from one bed to the other with ease. One of the nurses came to stand beside her, wrapping a comforting arm around her shoulder. “They’ll take care of her, I promise.”
Nodding her head, Kristine followed the team with her eyes out the door and around the corner, waiting until she could no longer see them before letting the breath she held free.
With nothing left to do but wait, Kristine turned back to her seat in the corner, dropping her tired body into the torturous plastic. Tossing her head back in surrender, she stared at the ceiling catching sight of the odd contraption hanging there, reminding her of the top shelf internet available to her. Reaching behind her, she spun her computer around, clicking out of the now black screen of the boxing match, and opening a new browser. Her fingers flew across the keyboard with muscle memory, filling the empty box in the center of the screen with the combination of words and symbols designed to keep her safe.
It felt like forever since she’d last logged in, her eyes feasting on the cute memes and advertisements for new movies, and clothing. Scanning the page, she landed on a post from her friend Nina which triggers her memory of the awaiting message she ignored earlier today. Unable to look away, Kristine scans the skyline behind her friend, and while she isn’t certain which Burrough, she was one-hundred percent sure it’s the skyline of New York City. Kristine had never been outside the state of Kansas, the hospital she sat in was as far away from her home as she’d ever ventured. Kristine longed to travel, seeing the cultures outside this close-minded little town. However, reality shook its index finger every chance it got, reminding her there may be a big world out there, but her place was in Kansas taking care of her granny. With a sigh, Kristine moved her mouse to the waiting message, clicking the button.
Did you see my post???? I can’t tell you how pissed off I am right now. Stormy left, no note, no kiss my fucking ass, just walked the fuck out of the office.
Kristine moved her attention back to the post, taking in the angry face of the blonde she’d made friends with almost a year ago in a Facebook forum geared toward accounting. A fast friendship was formed when Kristine defended some knucklehead who commented on blondes in his office being too stupid to work with numbers.
The post, a selfie taken at what Kristine knew to be Nina’s desk judging by the leopard themed accessories surrounding her. Everything from her pencil holder to her stapler was covered in the coordinating theme. As she looked closer at the photo, Kristine noticed several sections of Nina’s hair that sported the animal print. Nina’s signature duck lips sparkled from the copious amounts of gloss she spoke of being addicted to. Historically, Kristine wasn’t one to wear much makeup, not for lack of desire, more due to limited funding. Nina sent her a box full of products she said she didn’t like a few months ago, most of it still in the cellophane wrapping with price tags which made Kristine’s eyes bulge.
The description at the top was as brass as the woman who wrote it, full of four-letter words Kristine didn’t care for. Still, Kristine felt bad for her friend’s predicament, having a desk piled high with files as a result of someone else’s ignorance was never fun. She scanned the hundreds of responses to the post, several names Kristine recognized as girls who worked in the same office as Nina, all with similar conclusions of calling this exco-worker a cock-sucking bitch.
I feel your pain, Nina. Hang in there and don’t kill anybody. Kristine typed, before returning to the message. So sorry I didn’t respond earlier, my granny is in the hospital with what looks to be a stroke. Hopefully, your day got better, and I will talk to you tomorrow.
Lowering the lid of her computer, Kristine closed her eyes intending to say a silent prayer, but as the words faded and the silence of the room lulled her, the next thing she knew was the firm hand on her shoulder shaking her awake.
“I’m sorry to wake you, Ms. Smith.” Dr. Griffin apologized, his tired blue eyes conveying an urgency Kristine didn’t particularly care for.
“It’s fine,” she croaked, her mouth dry and eyes feeling as if they were covered in sand. “How is my Granny? Did the test go okay?”
The moment Dr. Griffin dropped his gaze to his coffee-stained shirt cuff, Kristine knew the news wasn’t good. Searching around her, Kristine found her rosary, clenching it in her right hand the way Sister Maria taught her.
“During the EEG, your grandmother had what we believe to be a second stroke. We were able to stabilize her, however, the additional strain on her body has left her unable to breathe on her own and we needed to place her on a ventilator.”
Numb.
Just like the skin of her butt, Kristine felt numb.
“As I told you earlier, I’ve never encountered a stroke as se
vere as the first, and with the second episode, I’m sorry to say, the test revealed no brain activity.”
Kristine may not know much about medicine, but she knew from a science class she took last year, the brain was pretty important for survival.
“Right now she’s upstairs in ICU, where she will remain until you’re ready to make any decisions.”
“Decisions?”
“Yes, Ms. Smith. Your grandmother can remain on the ventilator for as long as her body corporates, long enough for you to get a second opinion if you wish or find a long-term facility to care for her. I can have the hospital's social worker locate one which will accept her insurance. Or, if your grandmother had a living will, give you time to say goodbye.”
Dr. Griffin hated delivering this severe of news. He, like many of his colleagues preferred the triumphant stories, ones where the family hugged him tight and vowed their eternal devotion. He could see by the devastation on the beautiful woman’s face, this was a much deeper loss to her.
“I know this is a lot to take in, so I’ve pulled a few strings up on the floor to allow you some time with her outside of the normal visiting hours. If you need anything, let one of the nurses know and they will get it for you.”
Kristine shook Dr. Griffin’s offered hand, assuring him she would seek him out if she had any questions. But it was a lie, as the only question she had for the man was how to bring her granny back and he all but said that was impossible.
Gathering her meager belongings, Kristine took one last look around the tiny room. As she closed the door, she thought to herself how incredibly unfair it was when fate doesn’t bother to ask for opinions before taking away things assumed to be around forever. She had no voice when her mother died, and now it seemed the same would apply to her granny.
Reaching out, Kristine pressed the button to call the elevator. She would be there for her granny, just as Birdie had been for her. She would hold her hand and tell her how much she loved her until the absolute end, and then…then she would be alone.
4
Gino revved the engine of his new car as he waited for the gates of his father’s estate to open. He hated this house, the illusion of wealth it gave off to anyone who knew of its location and the secrets it held behind the walls. His father used the grandeur of it in an attempt to impress his mother’s family, sadly it worked and his grandfather’s went into negotiations in an effort to win his mother’s hand. From the stories Gino’d heard, carefully constructed lies fell from forked tongues on both sides and in the end, a bargain was struck, a marital match made in hell.
Exiting from the driver’s side, Gino waved off one of his father’s men whose sole purpose was to park cars and open doors, something which made his father feel important. Or maybe it was to impress the various women he took to his bed, something Gino couldn’t relate to, as he had no need to make an impression on any woman.
Entering the massive doors, allegedly made from ancient wood rumored to be from some castle Gino forgot the name of a long fucking time ago, he turned to his left. He bid several of the men standing sentry good morning, making his way to the end of the great hall, as his father called it, not bothering to knock as he’d been warned to do in the past.
Gino wasn’t surprised to find a blonde riding his father’s dick while he sat in his desk chair. He recognized Mitzi, one of Sully’s girls, despite the copious amounts of hair covering her face. Those obnoxious sized tits of hers bouncing like a pair of fucking basketballs. She’d managed to suck the money out of one of the men to pay a back-alley doctor when other more reputable physicians refused.
Unbuttoning his jacket, Gino took a seat as several expletives and the sound of a hand hitting bare skin filled the room. Mitzi was well-versed in how things worked around the Vitale Family, sliding off his father’s lap and out of the room before the sting on her ass subsided.
Jonathan Vitale pulled the condom from his rapidly deflating dick, tossing it in the direction of the trash can, missing it by a mile. His frustration with his eldest son was at a high point due to his continuous disregard for following orders.
“You weren’t at your sister’s party.” Tucking himself back into his pants, the smirk on Gino’s face raising his blood pressure. “Not that I expect you to do anything I tell you, but your Nona noticed.”
Gino kept his face stoic; he’d spoken with Nona on the plane ride home from Italy. They’d made a friendly wager on how tacky the decorations would be given Antonia’s taste.
“I’ll call her later,” Gino offered indifferently, loving nothing more than having a story to tell his Nona of how red his father’s face became during these meetings. Sophia Vitale, much like the majority of the women who married into the Vitale Family, suffered as a result of the poor decision, enduring years of turning a blind eye to the sins of their husbands.
“You’ll go to see her later.” Jonathan pounded his fist on the wood desk, unable to conceal the anger brewing in his chest. He’d no time to deal with Gino’s defiance. He needed him to do as he was told and ask for Felicia Vittorio’s hand in marriage, the Family needed the union and the financial support it would bring. While they weren’t knocking on poverty’s door, they certainly weren’t rolling in free cash like they did when he was much younger. The maintenance costs on the house he surrounded himself in were astronomical.
Jonathan leaned back in his chair, eyes boring into his son’s. Gino was nothing like his younger brother Sully, his intuition and nose for business was so much greater, even than his own. Which was part of the reason he would take the reins of the Family one day.
“Was your trip successful?”
Mimicking his father’s position, a colorful retort ready to send his father over the edge. “Mom’s great, sends her love.”
“Giovanni,” His father roared, the force of his aggression making the skin of his face turn an odd shade of purple. With Gino’s mission accomplished by the use of his Christian name, something a handful of men have lived to say twice, he righted his position.
Giovanni was his grandfather’s name, a cruel man who demanded Gino, at the age of seven, leave Italy and join his father in the States in order to mold him into the kind of man needed to run the Family. Gino had refused at first, digging his heels in hard when he stepped off the plane and into the backseat of his namesake’s car. His grandfather showed little mercy, choosing to strike him anytime he opened his mouth in protest. Gino endured years of hearing how traitorous his mother was for not getting on the plane when his father was escorted out of the country. Yet, for as much as he proclaimed to hate her, his grandfather spent the money she sent for his care. A secret he learned and kept to himself.
“Yes, arrangements have been made. The first shipment will arrive in ten days and we have a buyer willing to meet our asking price.”
According to Gino’s mother, revenge is a meal best served cold, and he was counting on clouded memories courtesy of women like Mitzi to help him dish out healthy portions.
Jonathan raised his arms, lacing his fingers behind his head. “Your twenty-fifth birthday is at the end of the year.”
“And?” Gino shrugged. “You planning my party already? You can keep the clowns and pony rides, I grew out of them before I moved to America.”
“Always the wise-ass,” Jonathan accused, lowering his arms and leaning over the desk in Gino’s direction. “I had two children by the time I was your age.”
“No,” Gino argued, moving the heels of his shoes to the edge of the wooden desk, crossing his feet at the ankles. “You had a son, an illegitimate bastard, a failed marriage and a few broken bones if mother told the story correctly.”
Gino knew the story by heart, the twisted tale of how his grandfather and great-uncle Carmine made a list of eligible women, wealthy enough and with the kind of connections that would benefit them for generations. Number one on their list was Nicoletta Gallo, a woman so beautiful, Gino’s uncle Saul swore he would drink her piss if it meant he got a shot at
seeing her pussy. Too bad another guy slapped a ring on her first. Which left Chiara, a beautiful woman from the Amato Family, who shared the same interests as the Vitale’s. Chiara's father insisted on having the best man possible. With Gino’s father being the oldest of the two, the Vitale’s created a man who looked incredible on paper, letters from the family priest—forged, of course—doctored bank records to make them richer than they were, and a clean bill of health, the numerous shots of penicillin wiped away. Women were paid handsomely to speak favorably of Jonathan’s character when the Amato’s came to visit. Fake college diplomas hung on the wall in house boasting an Ivy League education Jonathan never received. Gino’s father did his part, sending gifts to Chiara’s mother and sister, telephone calls with whispers of sweet things, all to make him into this handsome Prince Charming who would one day lead the Family into an unimaginable amount of prosperity and wealth. There was of course one tiny clause, Jonathan needed to prove himself to the elders of the Amato Family. The stipulations were kept secret, but most who knew of the contract had their suspicions.
According to his Nona, the wedding between his parents was one of the largest she’d ever attended, complete with a celebration lasting three days. Upon returning from an extended honeymoon, Jonathan told Chiara he needed to return to the States on urgent business, Chiara declined to go with him due to her pregnancy. He stayed in New Jersey for several months, returning to Sicily in time to celebrate Gino’s birth. Jonathan appeared to have satisfied the elder's requirements as a meeting was called between the Family’s. Jonathan walked into the meeting, boasting of baby number two on the way. He expected the same celebration as before, however, the only smiling face in the room was his. Chiara's brother shoved him in a chair, tossing proof of how he’d not only lied about who he was, but of the birth of a second son not six months after Gino. Jonathan was stripped, beaten and placed on a private jet. He was told of the price on his head if he ever returned to Sicily. The Vitale family was forced to pay back the wedding costs, which nearly bankrupted them.
Leave Me Breathless: The Black Rose Collection Page 4
