My chest tightens at those words and the weight they hold.
“You’re all in,” I repeat.
“Yeah, and you should probably warn your mother too. If the woman thinks she hates me now, she’s gonna fucking despise me when I pick you up for dinner on Saturday.”
For some odd reason that makes me smile. It also makes things real because if he’s willing to go to war with my mother, he’s serious. I don’t know the reason behind his change of heart, if it has something to do with whatever went down tonight or what, I just know that I’m not going to let this chance slip by us.
When you want something so bad, you find a way to make it work. Even if what you want comes with a side of organized crime. The only hiccup I foresee is my brother. Rocco’s loyalty to him runs deep and right now he’s not thinking about Joaquin and what he will ultimately think about us being together.
“What about my brother?”
“He’s dealing with his own shit right now. When the time is right, we’ll tell him.”
I bite my lip. I want to believe this is real, that he’s not feeding me lines and stringing me along.
“Any more questions?” he asks.
I decide to let the issue of my brother slide and live for the moment. I replay his words in my head and even though it’s a long shot, I ask, “What changed your world tonight?”
“You mean aside from you?”
“Nice try,” I retort, rolling my eyes. “I guess I’m just wondering why the sudden change of heart.” I pause, reading the blank expression on his face. “You’re not going to answer, are you?”
“No,” he confirms and sits up. Licking his lips, he looks away for a moment. Then he brings his eyes back to mine and says, “There are going to be a lot of times where I won’t be able to answer your questions, Violet, and you need to get used to that. You need to understand that I’ve taken a vow of silence and if I betray that promise the consequences are grave—for me, but more importantly, for you. The less you know, the safer you are.”
Someone else might’ve heard those words and thought about the girl who died in front of her eyes. She would’ve taken it as a warning and fled, but I didn’t even bat an eye.
Behind every great man, is a woman who makes him great.
She knows the good.
The bad.
The ugly.
She reminds him of who he used to be.
Well, beneath the fancy suits Rocco has a heart of tarnished gold and I’m the girl who is signing up to polish it and make it shine again.
Chapter 18
Violet Cabrera
“Heel forward, shoulders down. It’s very simple Violet,” my instructor, Ms. Beechers, chastises.
If it was up to her, she’d have me exiled from the academy. My scholarship would be revoked and instead of training for a one of the most prestigious productions to hit Lincoln Center's stage, I’d be dancing on a corner.
I swear some days I think she’s right, that I don’t belong here. It’s usually after a long day of classes, when I stay late to practice. I slip my ballet shoes off and stare at my bruised and bloody feet with tears in my eyes. The dream of one day holding the honor of prima ballerina feels so out of reach.
“That’s enough,” Ms. Beechers announces.
I square my shoulders and slowly bring my arms down to my sides, ending my routine fluidly and gracefully. However, judging by the look of disdain radiating from Ms. Beecher’s eyes, it safe to say she doesn’t agree. Feeling discouraged, I cross the room and grab my bag.
Today normally would be one of those days where I stay behind to work on all the things Ms. Beecher’s critiqued, but I don’t have it in me.
To be fair I’ve been off my game since Tuesday and it has little do with Ms. Beecher and everything to do with Rocco. Our relationship was off to a rocky start and that was putting it mildly.
He dropped me off a little while after we forced ourselves out of bed and promised to be in touch. I climbed up the fire escape wearing a shit-eating grin, one that was quickly smacked off my face when I crawled through my window and found my mother sitting on the foot of my bed.
Literally, she smacked me across the face. I don’t know how she knew I had spent the night with Rocco, but she did, and she called me every filthy disgusting name imaginable. The tears I held in my eyes were not a result of the slap, but rather a product of the words she spewed at me.
“He’s no good, mija,” she shouted. “How could you sell yourself so short?”
I wanted to believe that she had my best interest in heart, that she was playing the role of a concerned mother, but there was so much hatred in her eyes.
“His father was killed, and he will be too,” she continued to rant. Her English turned to Spanish and she started going on about my brother and how he was already dead to her.
When she was done with her tirade, she lifted her hand. I thought she was going to hit me again, so I braced for it, holding my hands in front of my face. That’s when she grabbed my wrist. Her eyes nearly popped out of their sockets as she inspected the bracelet and in an instant, I felt bile rise to my throat. I let her get her jabs in and swallowed her slurs, but if she so much as a laid a finger on that bracelet, I was going to hurt my own mother and that sickened me.
I pulled my hand out of her reach.
“Where did you get that?” she sneered.
“It’s none of your business.”
“Did he give that to you? What did you have to do for it, Violet?”
I knew what she was insinuating, and the funny thing is, the only time I ever sold myself short was when I tried to save her ass. If she knew I took my clothes off night after night to pay her debt would she be so insulting? What would she think if she knew Rocco saved me from that situation? That the man she hates is the one responsible for her keeping her restaurant.
Would I still be a slut?
Would he still be the Devil?
I looked her in the eye, and I told her the truth.
“It was his mother’s bracelet and now it’s mine.”
Her mouth hung open at that and I left her standing in the middle of the room. When I came out of the shower she was gone, and I vowed that I was done pleasing her. I also told myself I needed to get the fuck out of her house once and for all.
The next morning things went from bad to worse. I was just getting ready to leave the house when I heard Victor’s name be called on the television. I followed the sound and found my mother in the kitchen, a cup of coffee in her hand and her eyes glued to the thirteen-inch T.V. she kept on the counter.
Alleged mob boss, Victor Pastore, has surrendered himself to authorities. Sources say he has confessed to murdering a twenty-four-year-old disc jockey.
I covered my mouth, silencing a gasp and without my mother seeing me, I snuck out the front door. It wasn’t until I got to the corner of our block that I stopped and let myself process what I had overheard. My first instinct was to call Rocco and so that’s what I did. I wanted to know if it was true and if he had known anything about it, but he didn’t answer. In fact, the phone didn’t even ring, all I got was his voicemail.
Any questions I had would have to wait. I pocketed my phone and I started for the train, but the neighborhood was buzzing. It was seven o’clock in the morning and instead of getting their kids off to school with a kiss and a ‘have a nice day’, the housewives of Bensonhurst congregated at the school bus stop, running their mouths.