Bellissimo Lotta (Beautiful Struggle): Companion Novel to Bellissimo Fortuna (The Family Trilogy Book 2) (3 page)

“C’mon, sweet girl.” Bronson bends down in front of Callie, and she hops up so he can piggyback her.

“That wasn’t nice,” I whisper to Bianca. She isn’t clueless about what’s going on between them.

“All’s fair . . .” She smiles back at me.

“Oh, a believer in love?”

“Not me, but those two are. It works for them. Or it will when they both get over themselves.” I hold my arm out and she takes hold with a wink.

“You’re trouble, Bianca.”

“Stick around. You haven’t seen anything yet.” I better suit up; this is going to be one hell of a game.

“Looking forward to it.” I shoot her a wink. I see the slight blush of her cheeks, and as quickly as it appeared, she settles herself and saunters off in front of me.

Since our encounter at the house, she has ignored me all night, and I don’t like it. I can’t concentrate on the game in front of me, and when Callie’s phone rings, Bronson loses interest as well. Her face is pale, and she stutters to agree with whoever is on the other end.

She rushes from the room, and before Bianca can follow, Bronson is right behind her. Bianca falls back against the wall, looking ready to cry. “You okay?”

“I am. She’s not. Shit life.”

“Sorry to hear that.”

“Sometimes I wonder why God puts people on this earth just to experience pain.”

“I don’t think that’s the sole thing we experience. Without pain we wouldn’t be able to recognize pleasure. The joy of having someone in your life that you love. That loves you. They are all interchangeable. You can’t have one without the other.”

“Sounds like you have experience with both.”

“Yeah, I do.”

“Care to elaborate?”

“I had the best sister anyone could ever ask for. Dana was my best friend, my partner in crime. Don’t get me wrong, she would ride me about my grades in one breath, but the next one she would be my loudest cheerleader. She made sure I was happy and healthy, and taught me to never take life for granted. Moments aren’t guaranteed. They’re fleeting. ”

“What happened?’

“She was murdered six months ago.”

“Oh my God, Dakota. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay. They say each day gets better. That’s bullshit. But I was just telling you. I don’t know what Callie is dealing with, but as long as she has you, she’ll be fine.”

“I need her as much as she needs me.”

“I know. That’s what makes it so special.” She reaches over and grabs my phone. Her phone dings, and she places mine down.

“Now I can get your words of wisdom whenever I need them.”

“All you had to do was ask for my number, Bianca.”

“So you’re that easy?” She sticks her tongue out at me.

“You’ll never know.” I grab her phone and see she had me plugged in as ‘North.’ “What the hell is that?”

“My brother likes to snoop. So I played on your name.”

“Why not South?”

“Oh, who’s getting ahead of themselves now? You have to work up to the going south part. I’m not that type of girl.”

“Are you ever serious?” She is a handful. I feel bad for Bronson.

“Not if I can help it.”

Texting with her is a nightly routine. I see her enough at the house, but we avoid each other. Bronson’s protective of her, and I’m not sure what I feel, or what she’s after. I have come to learn she isn’t ever serious. Or at least that is what she likes to portray. She cares.

About everything.

Bianca: Is it wrong to wish that Callie wasn’t their child?

Me: Yes.

Bianca: One reason…

Me: You’d never know her.

Bianca: I’d sacrifice that as long as she had good parents.

And she would.

I know she would give up anything and everything for Callie. The feeling is mutual. She would sacrifice that friendship in an alternate world for Callie not to deal with what she deals with on a day-to-day basis. I can’t imagine what that girl goes through. Her father, Frank, is a dick. Controlling. Manipulative. Mean. He’s Satan himself. It drives Bronson nuts, and from the feeling I get during conversations with Bianca, he doesn’t know half of it.

The first semester of school flies by. Bianca turns sixteen this weekend, and instead of a big party like her mom wanted, she wants all of us to go to Busch Gardens in Tampa. All four of us.

Bianca: You good for this weekend?

Me: The parental units said okay.

Bianca: Maybe I can change you to South this weekend.

Me: Bianca . . .

Bianca: Or not. Your loss, pretty boy.

I’m still unsure what her end game is. She blatantly flirts with me, tries to be seductive, but does it all behind her brother’s back. I want to know the real her. I want to see the girl underneath the smoke and mirrors. I want to know who Bianca Agosto is, and I have a feeling she will stop me at every step. That doesn’t interest me. I don’t want the many different personas she hides behind. I want someone real. Someone I could have brought home to Dana. Until she decides to be comfortable in her own skin, I’ll continue keeping her at bay.

She and Callie were like toddlers on the rides. Screaming, throwing their hands in the air, riding the same rollercoaster over and over. More than once I had to cool Bronson down when Bianca was flirting with the attendant so she didn’t have to get off and stand in line for another ride. Just another way she plays her games . . . manipulation.

“Why are you irritated?” she asks as she catches up with me from the last ride.

“I’m not.”

“Bullshit.”

“Who are you? Do you even know? You flirt with me; you flirt with that guy, any random guy. You have no clue what you want.”

“Why does that bother you? You aren’t my boyfriend. You have no interest in me besides Bronson’s little sister, and you’ve made that abundantly clear. So what, I like to flirt. What’s it to you? And I know
exactly
what I want. I want to break free. I want to find out who and what I’m supposed to be without the restrictions of guards, big brothers, father’s business associates. I want to be able to royally fuck up and not worry about how my father’s business will perceive it. I want to be the girl that lies down every night without worrying that her house is going to be raided by the Feds, or another rival family. I want all of that, but you know what? I’m smart enough to know that’s not my future.” She turns abruptly and drags Callie to the restrooms.

I think being that real with me scared her shitless. I’m sure she’s never said all of that out loud. It’s one thing to think your desires, but when you voice them . . . they become real. They become a part of you. You have to decide if you’re willing to fight for them or let them pass you by.

Bianca doesn’t seem like the type that will watch her dreams float away.

Most fathers don't see the war within the daughter, her struggles with conflicting images of the idealized and flawed father, her temptation both to retreat to Daddy's lap and protection and to push out of his embrace to that of beau and the world beyond home.

~
Victoria Secunda

Chapter 3

Bianca

“He pisses me off.” Callie covers her mouth, but I can see the sides of her lips tipped in a smile. “What’s so funny?”

“He pisses you off because you like him. He pisses you off because he challenges you. He pisses you off because he makes you
feel
vulnerable and that, Bianca Agosto, is not a feeling you like.”

She’s right. He gets under my skin. I’ve tried the friends thing with him. He has great insight, and when I feel ready to crawl out of my skin, he’s there to offer me some words of wisdom, but as much as I try to push him into taking things further, he backs off. I don’t know if it’s because of Bronson or he’s not interested. I’m used to having the attention of any guy I want, my last name assures me that privilege. I’m just so tired of being defined by my father’s reputation.

“Come on, Binks. You’re sixteen today. Forget whatever is running through your mind, and let’s go have fun.”

“Okay.” I just can’t shake it off. I try to have fun, laugh at appropriate times, but every time I catch Dakota looking at me, I feel like he isn’t looking through me but somehow sees what I try to hide from everyone else.

My guilt.

My anger.

My unwillingness to conform to this lifestyle.

I have the best father in the world, if you overlook all the Mob stuff. He’s loving, supportive, and present in our lives. But, his career has created a stigma that I can’t escape. The Mob Princess, the spoiled rich girl . . . I’m either feared or lusted after, and none of it is because of who
I
am, but who my family is. Just once I’d like to introduce myself and have no one know who I am, what my family stands for. That’s where my guilt comes in. I resent the hell out of what my dad does; yet I know I’m lucky to have such a loving parent. I look at Callie’s poor excuse for a father, and I’m overcome with shame for being so unappreciative.

Both of my parents put us first, and while my mom loves my dad, she isn’t blind to what he does. She made a choice, and I don’t know how she came to terms with it in her mind, the good outweighing the bad. It’s foreign to me; no matter what, I can’t stop thinking of the bodies he has on his soul. Just because he’s a wonderful father and husband, does that make him a respectable man? A man of honor like he wants Bronson to be? My mom doesn’t sit idly by; she has her own voice and makes her opinions known, just not in regards to his business. She’s silent and lets my dad do his thing. I wrestle with those scenarios daily. I don’t condone what he does, but is it my place to say anything? Respect. It was taught to us from the time we were born. Just because I don’t condone his actions, doesn’t mean I can condemn him as a human, or more importantly, as my father.

Callie is sleeping soundly in the bed next to me, and I’m tossing and turning. I’m restless after all that transpired today. My phone lights up, and I grab it so the text alarm doesn’t wake her.

Dakota: For the 30 seconds you were yelling at me that was the first glimpse I saw of Bianca Agosto. I like her. I wish you wouldn’t hide her.

Me: ????

Dakota: The games you play with everyone else, I’ve decided I don’t want to play them. Just be you.

Me: I’m always just me. You’ve seen me pissed before.

Dakota: No, you’re not. I have, and it’s a beautiful, yet scary sight. What are you thinking right now?

I pause so I don’t reveal too much. How real do I get? If he wants honesty I’ll give it to him.

Me: What would you do if you could find your sister’s murderer? Would you be able to forgive them?

Dakota: I asked your thoughts.

Bianca: Just answer, please.

Dakota: No, I wouldn’t forgive them. I would like to think I wouldn’t take someone else’s life, but I’ve dreamt of killing a nameless, faceless person.

Bianca: So how do I reconcile with myself that my father is a murderer?

Dakota: Whoa. How’d you reach that conclusion?

My phone rings.

“Hello.”

“I can’t have this conversation via text.”

“Okay.”

“Continue.” Overbearing ass.

“You know what my father does. You know the truth. Granted, I’m shielded as much as possible, but I’m not dumb, Dakota. He kills. Or orders others to kill. He’s feared. So how is he any different from the person who killed your sister?” His deep sigh comes through loud and clear. He’ll try to tread lightly, but it’s a confusing topic. Not black and white.

“It’s not cut and dry, Bianca. I get your point, but my sister was blameless. Innocent. The men who get mixed up with your father and his business know what the outcome could be. It’s not the same.”

“You can throw all of those explanations and rationalizations out there. Fact is, no matter how great of a father he is, he’s dirty. He’s a fucking criminal, Dakota. And that kills me.” I’ve never voiced those thoughts. Not to anyone. Not even myself. Bronson idolizes him, as he should. Joseph Agosto is a hell of a man, a force to be reckoned with . . . why couldn’t he be a butcher, or banker?