“Well, you two are attached at the hip.” She pauses. “Can I just say it makes sense now.”
I narrow my eyes at her.
“What does?”
She tips her chin to the bottle of vodka.
“I was starting to wonder if I should call Joaquin and have him drag you to a rehab or something.”
I undo the top button of my shirt and lean back against the chair. Her brother wouldn’t bat an eye if he knew I drank myself into a stupor. He’d only ask how bad of a mess I made of things that way he can sweep all my misdeeds under the rug. My uncle is big on appearances, but so is the man he pays to keep me in line and though I’m the one technically running the shots in Miami, it’s Joaquin who keeps me in line. If it wasn’t for him, I’d probably be dead and not at the hand of one of my father’s enemies—because there is a lot of them still lingering—but at the hand of my uncle.
If he knew what the fuck I really did down there night after night, he’d fucking put a bullet between my eyes. Actually, he’d make me dig my own grave, then he’d put a bullet in my head. Heaven forbid the don himself gets his hands dirty.
“I know you and your sister are estranged but it might help you to talk to her. If my mom passed, I’d turn to Joaquin because even though we don’t always see eye to eye when it comes to our mom, he’s the only one who’d feel the same loss as me.”
“You and your brother are nothing like me and my sister,” I scoff.
Joaquin would cut his dick off for Violet, and I have no doubt this little vixen in front of me would walk through fire for him. If Gina saw me burning on the cross, she’d throw gasoline on me and take the ticket to Hell. She hates me that much.
“I ran into her today,” I admit and as soon as the words leave my lips, I curse myself. I don’t know why I’m opening the can of worms.
“I bet you didn’t run into her at a strip club,” she teases, tossing me a wink as she makes herself comfortable on the bed and pops another fry into her mouth.
Seeing my sister dancing on a pole might be the only thing that can make this night worse.
I shake my head and bring my eyes back to Violet.
“She was at the cemetery,” I supply, quietly recalling the encounter. She was kneeling in front of our mother’s grave when I arrived, talking to the stone. I couldn’t make out what she was saying and still, I felt like I was intruding. That’s when I turned to walk away, but something kept me rooted in place. Not wanting to startle her, I cleared my throat and made my presence known. She glanced over her shoulder but didn’t say a word.
I tried to speak.
Hello, perhaps.
How are you?
Remember me? The guy who sold his soul to the Devil after our mom passed to make sure your dreams came true.
But I couldn’t find my fucking voice and she quickly got to her feet. I watched her kiss her fingertips and bring them to our mother’s tombstone before turning on her designer heels. She stopped in her tracks, spun back around and took the time to remind me I was a thug that would never amount to anything so long as I let our uncle pull my strings. Then she was gone.
“And?” Violet questions.
I shrug my shoulders.
“And nothing. Gina is set in her ways and nothing is going to change her.”
“Looks like you’re set in your ways too.”
I stare at her for a beat.
“Bug, you don’t know anything about me.”
She nods.
“You’re right, I don’t know anything about this guy,” she agrees, pushing the cart away from the bed. She unfolds her legs and lets them dangle off the edge of the bed before continuing, “But I know a lot about the guy who used to wear these clothes.” She pauses to finger the Yankee t-shirt she’s wearing. “In fact, I spent most of my life studying that guy, some might even call me an expert when it comes to him.”
Intrigued, I raise an eyebrow.
“Yeah, who?”
She waves a hand dismissively.
“That doesn’t matter, you’re missing the point.”
I reach for my glass and shake my head. She’s right, it doesn’t matter.
“Seems like you wasted much of your life studying the wrong guy. A poor choice on your behalf. For a smart girl, you’re an expert at making mistakes.”
“Why? Because I did something to help my mother? It might not have been the smartest decision, but I’d do it again and given the opportunity, I’m sure you’d help Gina again.”
Again, she surprises me, and I find myself arching an eyebrow as I take a sip of the vodka. So much for getting black-out drunk. I think I’m immune to this shit. Setting the glass between my thighs, I stare at Violet.
“What do you know about me helping Gina?”
“I know after your mom died you went to your uncle for help and that’s how you and Joaquin started working for him. You needed help burying her and you wanted to make sure your sister went to college, that she got a degree and followed her dreams.”
I swallow.
Alright, so maybe she is an expert.
“Your intentions were good, but I think you got lost along the way. I think you became too wrapped up in proving to the world that you weren’t your father’s son—”
I cut her off.
“But I am.” I move the glass from between my legs and stand. “I am Rocco Spinelli Jr. I’ve got his looks, his blood, and his drive to fuck everything he touches. You’d be wise not to forget that, Bug.”
She frowns.
“And you’d be wise to stop calling me that ridiculous nickname, especially after tonight.”
“Just because I’ve seen your tits doesn’t change anything.”
Lies.
It changes everything.
“I already told you, I’m not afraid of you.”
“And why is that?”
“You might not know who you are, but I do. You’re the guy who stalks after a girl once she’s humiliated herself and makes sure she’s okay. You’re the guy who settles the score that put her in that position in the first place. The one who promises to keep her secret from her brother, the man he considers a brother himself. You’re the guy grieving his mom. The guy who misses his sister. The guy who struggles every day to please his uncle because he’s terrified of becoming his father. You’re Rocco, the guy who used to crash on my mom’s couch and eat all the leftover empanadas. There’s nothing to fear about that person.”
I remain quiet as I stare at her.
That’s the thing about the youth, they’re so fucking naïve. They see what they want and not what’s right in front of them. The guy she knows doesn’t exist, he died a long time ago and the man standing in front of her is walking time bomb.
“You should get some sleep.”
“What about you?” she asks, eyeing the mostly full bottle of vodka. It doesn’t seem all that appealing anymore.
“I’m going to take a shower.”
Then as I push the rolling cart out of my way, I pause—the same way I did at the cemetery. I turn to Violet, and despite my better judgement, I lift the back of my hand to her cheek.
“Become an expert in something else, Bug,” I say hoarsely.
Something worthy.