by K. L. Myers
“Angelo.” My name floats through the air, capturing my attention. Lillian stands before me; her hand reaches out to mine. “Come with me. Father has agreed to meet with me, and I need you for support.”
This is it. I knew she wouldn’t wait till tomorrow to ask for permission to attend Stanford; she already received her acceptance letter and has been anxiously waiting to ask her dad to allow her to go. The day her letter came in, Lillian pulled me aside. I knew something was up because I only see the light in her eyes shine so brilliantly when she talks about being away from all the drama of her family.
“I’m in, Angelo, Stanford accepted me. We can go far away from all this madness and be together in California. No uptight Ivy League school. I hear the professors there are casual and laid back; some of them even show up to teach classes in shorts and T-shirts. God has answered my prayers, Angelo.”
I’m surprised she’s waited this long to spill the news. Her hand tugs on mine just as it did when she was thirteen and pulled me toward the lion exhibit at the Bronx Zoo. My chest tightens for a moment as I remember how much of her life I have been involved in. In hindsight, I probably shouldn’t have let myself get so close to her. I was to protect her, not fall in love with her. But falling in love is what I’ve done. Little by little she weaseled her way under my skin and into my heart, and someday I know she’ll also break it.
When we walk into Mr. Vicci’s office, I am surprised to see Isabella sitting next to her husband. “Come and sit,” she speaks to her daughter, patting the seat next to her. I close the door and take my place standing beside it, back rigid and expecting the worst.
“Lillian,” Mr. Vicci says, “what is so important that you couldn’t wait till after the party?”
“Father,” Lillian says as she holds out a piece of paper. I don’t recall her having that in her hands when she came to get me, but there it is. “I got accepted to Stanford.” She smiles. “I’m going, Father.” She didn’t ask permission; no, she told her father, and I can see the anger build in his face as he reads her acceptance letter.
“Who gave you permission to apply to college? That is not what your future holds, Lillian. You know this,” Mr. Vicci barks, and the sound of his anger reverberates off the walls.
“No one, Father, but I’m going. I want more for myself than to be Vincent’s wife.” Lillian pauses for a moment but continues before her father gets an opportunity to speak. “I know what has been planned for me, but I want to choose my own destiny, Father. I’m better than being someone’s wife.” Lillian looks at her mom, her eyes begging for help. “Years ago, I get it, being a wife and tying two families together was how it was done, but not this time, not now, and not with me.”
Mr. Vicci begins to speak, but Isabella speaks up, interrupting him. “There is nothing wrong with being the wife of a man you love, Lillian.”
Lillian opens her mouth to argue but is cut off by her mother. “I know you do not love Vincent. You two have been nothing more than friends, but the families have always hoped that it would change. Though I fear it has not, am I right?”
Lillian shakes her head, acknowledging her mother. “It hasn’t, Mother. I think of Vincent as a brother, not a husband. I want to be a doctor. It’s all I’ve thought about growing up, but I was afraid to tell you both. I know I can be good at it. Please don’t deny me this opportunity.”
Isabella takes the paper from her husband's hand, which surprisingly, he gives willingly. Mr. Vicci sits quietly, watching the two women he loves most in life discuss the future of the Vicci family. Every time he starts to speak, Isabella squeezes his knee, and he holds his tongue. This is the first time I’ve ever seen him not command the room, let alone bow to his wife.
“Lillian, why Stanford? It is so far from home. Did you not get accepted into Harvard or Johns Hopkins? Those schools are far better suited for becoming a doctor and so much closer to home.”
“I didn’t apply to them, Mother.” Lillian’s voice is almost a whisper.
“What! Why not!” Mr. Vicci speaks for the first time in several minutes. “If you were going to disobey us and plan a future as a doctor, why not select a better school and one closer to home?”
“Mother, Father,”—Lillian looks at both of them— “I’m proud to be a Vicci, but I want to go to a school where no one will know who I am. Boston and Baltimore hold no appeal to me, but Stanford… it’s in California, where it doesn’t snow, and the weather is beautiful year-round, and best of all, Vicci isn’t a household name there. Please, Father, I want to go to school like a normal person. I don’t want people looking at me and being afraid to be my friend because of who my family is.”
“Why not let everyone know who your family is, Lillian? The Vicci name carries power. You would be—” Isabella, once again, squeezes her husband’s knee, causing him to stop mid-sentence.
“Lillian, your father and I would not be comfortable with you all the way over there by yourself. I’m sorry, piccola, but I must support your father on this. If you want to go to college, we will support you, but only if you are close to home.”
“But, Mother,” Lillian begs, “I can take Angelo with me. I wouldn’t be alone, not really. He’s been my protector for six years. He could come with me and keep me safe. Father won’t have to worry about me if Angelo is with me.”
Mr. and Mrs. Vicci look at one another before Mr. Vicci speaks. “Were you in on this, Angelo?”
“No, sir, I was not. I knew she received her acceptance letter, but it wasn’t my place to tell you, sir; it was hers.” I know I should have told Mr. Vicci, but somewhere over the years, my loyalty to Lillian became stronger than my loyalty to her father. I knew it was a risk not telling him, and my job and life could come to an end quickly, but it was a risk I was willing to take.
“Angelo, come sit,” Isabella calls to me. Cautiously, I make my way to the sitting area and take my place in a chair to the left of Mr. Vicci. Unsure of what is going to transpire next, I know whatever it is, I will take my punishment however they see fit.
Isabella is the first to speak. “Angelo, if we agree to this, would you be willing to go with our daughter and keep her safe? You’re giving up years of life away from your family. It is not fair to ask this of you if you have no interest. We will understand if you say no.”
Before I can answer, Mr. Vicci speaks once more, only this time, it’s cold and demanding. This is the Francesco Vicci I have come to know, not the compassionate man who sits quietly while his wife and daughter have a conversation. “Angelo, there will be no discussion, no option, do you understand? If I agree to this, you will accompany Lillian, be responsible for my daughter one hundred percent since you kept this from me, and by doing so, you’ve given me no choice to head off this outcome. You will be alone, not like here, where you have the complete power of the family to back you up. You will be alone with her, and if anything happens to her, your family will mourn your loss as I mourn mine. Your father may be one of my most valuable capos, but that will not stop me from ending your life and potentially his. Do you understand this?”
I know he is trying to scare me, hoping that I will say no to the request, but I have a soft spot when it comes to Lillian. I want her to be happy, and truthfully, I don’t want to see her married off to Vincent, so I gladly agree. “Yes, sir. I fully understand that it will be my life if anything happens to Lillian, but I promise you I will guard her no differently than I have in the past. My life for hers, sir.”
“Lillian,” Mr. Vicci speaks, “I don’t approve of the way you have gone about this, but I’m proud of you for taking a stand for yourself. I have raised a tough daughter and an independent thinker.” He chuckles for a brief moment, then speaks once more, “I fear had I married you off to Vincent, you would be wearing the pants, not him.”
Lillian smiles at her father. “So, does that mean I can go, Father?” Excitement fills her voice as she asks the question.
“Yes, Lillian, you may go, but if Angelo tell
s me things do not appear safe for you, you will return immediately, no questions asked. Do you understand?”
Lillian springs from her chair, throwing herself into her father's lap. “Thank you, Father, thank you. I’m going to be the best doctor ever, and you’re going to be proud of me.”
Mr. Vicci pulls his daughter close to him. “I am already proud of you, bambina. Do not ever think otherwise. I will call and make arrangements for a home for you. It will make Angelo’s job of protecting you much easier if you don’t live on campus.”
Lillian sits back in her chair, her shoulders dropping slightly. “Father, I can’t do that. All freshmen are required to stay in the dorms their first year.”
"No, non è accettabile. Non lo permetterò.” Mr. Vicci’s voice echoes throughout the room.
“Father, please be reasonable. You cannot tell them what is allowed and not allowed. Just let me experience college like every other student,” Lillian pleads with her father.
Knowing this is probably not my place to speak up, I do anyway and hope that Mr. Vicci won’t think I’m being disrespectful. “Mr. Vicci, sir, I’m sure there is a way for Lillian to be as normal as possible. I’ll promise with my life that she will be safe during her freshman year. Then we can move to private housing as soon as it is over.”
“Angelo,”—Mr. Vicci’s eyes glare into mine—“you have already agreed to give your life for Lillian’s, so there is no incentive for me to agree to allow her to live in this student housing. Are you so sure of your abilities that you are willing to stake the lives of your family? Your mother, father, and sister?” A sinister darkness shrouds his features as he asks me the question.
Any other man would cower to the head of the family, but not me. Maybe I am too confident in my abilities. Maybe I am blinded by my love for Lillian and wanting to make her happy. “Yes, sir, I am willing to stake my family’s lives for your daughter’s. I will never allow harm to come to her.”
“Ah, my boy, arrogance has a way of catching up to one and making a liar of them. I admire your confidence, but I am not willing to risk my daughter to your arrogance.”
“Mr. Vicci, it is not arrogance. I do not believe that I am that much better at protecting Lillian than anyone who would come after her. But, sir, I am committed and confident that I have what it takes to keep her safe. I will not let her out of my sight any more than is required. I will safeguard her from the moment she wakes to the moment she sleeps.”
Mr. Vicci stands, reaching for his daughter, pulling her into his arms. “Il mio tesoro, tu guidi una chiatta dura. Non farmi rimpiangere di aver detto di sì a questo.” The compassion in his voice as he praises Lillian for driving a hard bargain and hoping he won’t regret his decision is evident.
“Oh, Father, thank you. You won’t regret this, I promise.” Lillian bounces on her toes as she wraps her arms around her father. I watch as she mouths the words “Thank you” to me.
Chapter 2
LILLIAN
I never expected my father to agree to send me off to college in California. I was so afraid that Father wouldn’t care that I had dreams and ambition. Women aren’t independent in our family. They know their place, which is quietly in the background. Don’t get me wrong, my mom is the strongest woman I know when it comes to defending the family. That’s when her voice rings loud and clear, but most of the time she remains silent and knows her place.
For as long as our lineage goes back, families were created by building empires. Daughters married sons, binding together two families to create the next even bigger empire. But that all stops with me. I’m not going to marry Vincent Esposito, no matter what my dad says. I’d take my life before I end up married to a man I don’t love just so the Vicci name grows stronger.
If I were to marry anyone, it would be Angelo. He is my obsession, my bodyguard, and my protector. I know my family would never let that happen, but then again, I never expected my father to let me go off to college either. If Father knew I had asked Angelo to be my first, I would be locked in my room for the rest of my life, and Angelo would be at the bottom of the Hudson.
As I hold my father in my arms, I can still hear Angelo’s response to my request. “Lillian, don’t rush into something just because you’re eighteen. Take your time and find the right man for you. I’m not that man, sweetheart.” What Angelo doesn’t know is that California will make him the right man if I have my way. Like my father, I play hardball when necessary, and I never lose. With Angelo by my side and without the family around, I am going to make him mine.
It’s a humid Saturday afternoon when Angelo loads up the Range Rover with our luggage. Father made all the arrangements for us to have a place on campus as required, but in the graduate section where students with significant others can house together.
I’m surprised when Father says he won’t be accompanying me to California. “I’ll let you get settled in, and I’ll be out next month,” he tells me, then kisses me on the forehead, and pushes me onto the private jet that will whisk me away. I don’t think I shut up for more than five minutes from the moment the plane takes off from JFK’s private jet terminal. It’s the first time I’ve ever been on a plane, the first time I’ve ever left New York, actually. It seems like I’m going to be experiencing a lot of first times with Angelo.
Somewhere over Arizona, Angelo has enough. “Lillian, please give me a few minutes of peace and quiet. I don’t think I’ve heard you speak this much in the six years I’ve been by your side.” Angelo laughs.
“I’m just excited, Ang. I’ve never been on my own. I can’t wait to explore.” I know it was the wrong choice of words the second I said them. Angelo’s face grows displeased with me, but before he can say another word, I speak up. “I know, Ang, I know. No exploring. But, Ang, I want to enjoy the sun and the beach. I want to see the sights and have fun doing it. I hear it’s very different there, Ang. Everyone is laid back and not so uptight; they ride bicycles everywhere instead of riding in taxis. The sun is always shining, and the days aren’t gloomy like at home. The beaches there are so different than those around New York. Can we please make time for that soon?” When he doesn’t respond to me, I know that means I need to give him some room. It is always like Angelo to give me the silent treatment when he’s unhappy with something I’ve said or done. He knows that bothers me more than if he yelled at me. My father always yells at me when he’s mad; after a while, I learned to let it go in one ear and out the other and shrug it off like nothing happened. So, if you want me to remember that I’ve done something wrong, giving me the cold shoulder along with the death glare is enough to do it. That I can’t ignore; that won’t go in one ear and out the other. No, it is a look that stays firmly in the forefront of my brain. Nothing hurts more than a disappointed look on someone’s face.
A few hours later, we land at San Francisco International airport, where a town car is waiting for our arrival. A short thirty-five minute drive or so, and Angelo and I arrive on campus outside of Escondido Village. How ironic that the university has undergraduate housing for those students who are in a committed relationship. Though Angelo and I are not by far in a committed relationship yet, it does allow for him to occupy the same housing quarters as me, which made Father very happy.
“Home, sweet home.” Angelo laughs. “You get the bedroom, and I get the living room.” As Angelo goes to unload our luggage from the town car, I rummage through the tiny apartment to see that everything I could possibly need has already been unpacked and set up in place. The bed is made, linens are stocked in the cupboards in the bathroom, and the kitchen is furnished with dishes and has a full fridge.
Angelo walks back through the door with a suitcase in each hand and one under his arm. “Ang, did you know this place already has food in the fridge?”
Angelo has just placed both of my suitcases in my room and is in the process of emptying his into a tiny dresser in the corner. “Yes, piccolo ragazza, your father took care of everything.”
; “Of course, he did,” I say in my sweetest sarcastic voice possible. “Look, Ang, having you sleeping in the living room isn’t ideal if I have friends over. Just move your stuff into my room. No one has to know.”
“Lillian, I’m not sure what thoughts are going through your little mind right now, but this isn’t you and me shacking up as the happy couple; this is so I can protect you.”
“Ang, don’t be so uptight. I’m not a kid anymore, you know. We’re thousands of miles away from any family. I know you have feelings for me, just as I do for you. Why don’t we explore them?”
I hear the word ‘piccolo’ come out of Angelo’s mouth. “Just stop it, Ang. Stop calling me piccolo ragazza. I’m not a little girl anymore, and I don’t want to hear those words come out of your mouth ever again. Do you understand me?”
“Fine. Principessa, I’m ten years older than you. I’m employed by your father, and regardless of whether or not I have feelings for you, I would not act upon them if they were there.”
“I hate you, Ang,” I say, slamming my bedroom door behind me, but not before I hear him call out to me, “No, you don’t. You love me.”
When I wake later, I don’t have to roll over to know Angelo is standing there in my doorway. It’s the same feeling I’d get back home when Mom and I were alone, sitting quietly, reading, and I’d get this feeling that he was there behind me. Sure enough, every time, Angelo appeared out of nowhere as if he were a dream.
“What do you want, Ang?” I don’t give him the courtesy of rolling over to face him.
I hear his footsteps as they cross the room. “I’m sorry, piccolo—” But he catches himself and doesn’t finish the sentiment.
My back is still toward him. “Don’t call me that anymore, Ang. I’m not a little girl.”
I feel my bed move beneath me. “No, you’re not a little girl anymore, so stop behaving like one. You can’t just run off and slam a door because you don’t like the response I give you.”
