Page 62 of Mafia King
“I thought he liked me,” she whispers, as if that’s the most important aspect of this entire mess.
“I bet he does.” I thumb a tear from her cheek. “Does your family know where you are?”
She shakes her head, looking through the glass doors to the backyard with her mouth tight in an expression of impending trouble.
“You don’t have to call them,” I say. “I can tell them you’re here.”
“Don’t. They’ll ask you questions, then come here to get me and… I can’t right now.”
“Then Santino will tell them.”
Her face lights up. “Can he? They won’t come if he says it.”
“Absolutely.” The word isn’t out of my mouth before I’m already texting him.
—Can you tell Angelo/Marco/Paola that Gia’s at the house with me and she’s fine—
—Why is she there?—
He won’t let me ask questions, but when I make the slightest request, he gets suspicious. I could tell him she just showed up and I had nothing to do with it, but he’s going to call Armando anyway. Let the man earn his salary.
“Done.” I put down my phone.
“Thank you.” She takes an oval cookie crusted with almond shavings.
“If you give me the keys”—I hold out my hand—“I’ll have Armando pull your car out of the driveway.”
She shakes her head and dismisses the idea with a flick of her wrist. “I always park on Foothill. There’s a secret spot.” She dunks the cookie in the coffee, bites, sips, smiles. “It’s good.” Her eyes dart around the immaculate kitchen. “I can’t believe you have a whole person just to cook and make coffee.”
“Celia and I work together.”
“Only for you and Santino.”
Of course, having such a person is a ridiculous indulgence. Since I’m not at school, I could do what she’s paid to do. Celia would have nowhere to go, but explaining the situation would just be defensive and betray Celia’s confidence.
“Yes.” I drink my coffee. “Just for the two of us. I guess more, if we had a party or something.” I shrug. “I don’t know who I’d invite. All my friends… they wouldn’t get it, and I don’t think the family actually likes me.”
“What?” Gia gently rubs her eyes with the pads of two fingers. They’re dry now, but still swollen. “But you’re so…you.”
I’m two people actually. One is a student at the nursing college across the river, and the other was small and silent until Santino dragged her out of the darkness.
“Oh, God, I’m rubbing my eyes. They’re going to get even more puffy.”
“I have a cucumber I can slice up.” I try to sound casual. No pressure. But I’m desperate for her to stay. “That’ll help with the swelling.”
I quickly chop a cucumber into cool, wet coins and place them on a plate.
“You’re so thoughtful, Violetta.”
“No, I’m so selfish. I’m so sorry I wrecked your flowers and your date.”
“You were upset I didn’t know. And now I do.”
She’s half right, but I don’t correct the other half.
Gia and I walk upstairs and down the hall, arm in arm. She pauses outside of my old room and touches the doorjamb. “Do you remember your first nights here?”
“I do.”
