"When?"
"The other day."
She let go of me. "And you weren't going to tell me?"
"Erin and the girls took care of me. I didn't want to bother you with it."
"I'll speak to them, but do you know what this means?"
I swallowed again and shrugged. "That I can have babies."
Madam chuckled dryly. "Yes, but also, it's time for you to start working. You're a woman now."
"Working?"
"Don't worry." She cupped my cheek. "I don't mean what the other girls do—yet." Did she mean sex? "But it's time you learn how to use a mop and start cleaning up the rooms after the girls use them." She snatched the bag of bread out of my hands. "You won't need this anymore. Your days of going outside are over."
Five Years Later – Seventeen Years Old
Grabbing my messenger bag, I slung it across my chest and walked out of my bedroom. It was a typical Saturday night, and someone was having a party at one of their homes, and practically the entire school would be there. Sometimes it was at a house, or a penthouse, or an apartment, or a hotel floor that their parents owned, or a loft.
People were always asking if I was going to those parties. Not only because I was the most popular guy in school, but because I always had my stash on me, and they needed their fix. Coke, weed, uppers, downers, you name it, I could get it. It helped that my father was the most notorious drug dealer in the city. People knew to come to me, even if it was on the down-low, because my dad had trained me well.
Word on the street was you didn’t cross a Russo, and people knew not to fuck with Frank Russo Senior. It helped that my father had cops on his payroll. I didn't know how it all worked, but my dad could get out of any shady shit.
You'd think we lived in the Bronx or something because of how thug-like my father was, but we didn't. We lived on the Upper East Side on 5th Avenue in a three-bedroom apartment that overlooked Central Park. On the outside, we were like any upper-class family, but really, we ruled New York City.
Walking into the living room, Mom was sitting in her spot on the couch, her nightly martini next to her as she watched some true crime show on TV. "See ya later," I called out as I headed toward the door.
"Have a good night, honey."
Dad was out doing whatever it was he did during the night. He owned a nightclub, but that was just a front for his real money maker. I never questioned him, though. I had learned that lesson when I was eight years old …
Mother and Father followed me into the limo. I went to my seat at the far end of the limo, loving that I could ride backward. Riding backward was my favorite, especially because my friends didn't have limos, so I was the only one who could say I could ride backward.
"We have to make a stop," Dad stated, looking at his phone.
"Why?" Mom questioned as the limo pulled away from the curb.
"Business."
"Your son is in the car."
"My son needs to learn because he'll run this business when I'm gone."
I didn't know exactly what my father did. He was some sort of businessman and people looked up to him, but that was all I knew.
"Eventually, when he's not a boy," Mother countered.
Dad shrugged. "Now, when he's a teenager, doesn't matter."
"It does matter," Mother cried. "He's too young."
"You can whine all you want, Quinn. We're making a stop, and that's final. Now, shut your fucking mouth before you become my business. Understood?"
She didn't respond to him. Instead, she leaned forward and said, "Frankie, when your father gets out of the car, I want you to put your earbuds in your ears, turn up your music, and play your game on your phone. Do you understand me?"
I nodded.
If my dad was getting out of the limo, then how would I see or know what was happening? I didn't understand, but I quickly learned because when the car pulled up to the docks, and my dad got out, I put my headphones in my ears but didn't turn on my music. I pretended to play on my phone, but then I heard a loud pop. I jumped and looked out the window. A man was lying on the ground in front of my father and other men.
My gaze moved to my mother’s. Her eyes were closed as though she didn't want to see what my father had done, but I knew. I wasn't stupid. I'd seen The Godfather and other movies I wasn't supposed to watch. My father had killed that man.
In that split second, I knew I wasn't ever going to get on his bad side.
When I was sixteen, and he asked me to start selling and join the family business, I didn't hesitate. What my father said was final, and honestly, it helped me save money for my future plans.
The driver of my town car was waiting for me at the curb when I got outside to head to the party. I'd already told him where I was going and how long I planned on staying, which wasn't long because I wasn't feeling well, but I had to go. I had to sell or my father would be pissed.
As soon as I turned eighteen and graduated from high school, I was going to go off to college and get away from my father. I didn't want to follow in his footsteps. While the money was great, I hated the added stress that came along with it. Anyone could go to a cop who wasn't on my father's payroll and turn me in. I hated not knowing who to trust, but at the same time, I had to sell, so I didn't get popped like I'd seen my father do more times than I could count since bringing me into the family business.
My driver pulled up to the curb in front of the building where the party was taking place. As I got out, making sure my messenger bag was securely around my body, the wind blew, sending a slight chill through me. It wouldn't be long before the snow would start falling, and it made me anxious about my move to California. No one knew I was leaving.
Not my friends.
Not my mother.
And definitely not my father.
"Hey, Frankie," Courtney, a sophomore, called out as she walked up to the door of the building.
"Hey, Court," I greeted back as the doorman opened the door for us, tipping his cap. It wasn't the first time there had been a party at Robbie Miller's place. In fact, it was a monthly occurrence.
Courtney and I walked into the building and up to the elevator. "Have any Molly?"
I smiled. "Of course."
"Want to do some with me?"
Even though I sold drugs, I didn't use them. I knew better than to dip into my own stash, especially because I couldn't chance getting fucked up and someone stealing from me. My father would never let me live it down, and I didn't doubt I'd be killed for my mistake. It was the same reason I didn't drink.
"Maybe after I conduct business." While Courtney was a pretty girl, I didn't want to give her false hope. If I said yes, she would follow me around. If I said no, she would probably burst into tears or something.
The elevator dinged, and the doors opened. We stepped inside. "That's what you said last time, and it didn't happen."
I smiled. "Business first, baby."
"Come find me after you're done," Courtney said as the elevator opened onto Robbie's floor.
I stepped out of the lift. "Yeah." I wasn't necessarily going to do that. I would see how the night turned out.