High Stakes (17 page)

“Yeap.”

She covers her mouth with a tanned hand, laughing. “Oh my God. You have to tell me all about it. There has to be something seriously dysfunctional about their relationship.”

The comment burns my face, but I’m so grateful that she’s backed off on antagonizing me about Vince that I don’t say anything. “I doubt it. From the way that he talks about her, they seem to get along pretty well.”

“Oh, come on Ade.”

Now I’m starting to feel irritated. “I mean it! You know, he’s not the horrible man you think he is. He’s really thoughtful. He delivers food all the time because he knows that I’m broke. That’s the kind of guy he is.”

Just thinking about him puts a grin on my face. Every day away from him hurts a little bit more. I fell for him, fast and hard. Who else could treat me the way he does? Who else could give me the most amazing sex I’ve ever had?

“That is thoughtful,” she admits grudgingly.

When we return to the dorms, I try to hide the contents of my purse as I stuff them under my bed. Maria’s smiles at me, making me feel incredibly guilty. I deserve to be locked up.

I endure several hours of listening to Maria talk to herself about what classes she ought to take. She decides to major in psychology and I hear her read the course descriptions out loud. Bitterness rises in my throat. It’s not her fault that her parents are wealthy, but damn am I jealous.

While shopping, I bought an innocent-looking dress that would be appropriate for his mother. A heart-stopping sensation fills me when I think about meeting his mother. I’ll probably have to return it, so I don’t take off the tags.

Knock-knock.

Maria’s head perks up from her computer screen and I bolt upright.

“It’ll be fine.”

“Yeah,” I say in a faint voice.

Twisting the handle of my clutch, I walk out of the bedroom into the living room. I open the door, and a tall-dark haired man dressed in dark jeans and a button-up shirt winks at me. Vince doesn’t pull me into his arms like he usually does; instead he gives me a tense smile and a quick peck on my cheek.

What’s wrong with him?

“Hey.”

“Hey, let’s go.”

Clearly, he’s in a hurry to leave. Vince walks in front of me and walks briskly down the steps, almost jogging down. I can barely keep up with him. Grabbing my hand, he moves swiftly down the sidewalk, his head moving from side to side, scanning.

“Is there something wrong?”

He suddenly becomes aware of me and his pace slows down. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

“What does that mean?”

My lungs freeze when I’m ushered into the car. Vince gets in, looking around before he sinks into his seat, his fingers white as they grip the steering wheel.

“You’re in some kind of trouble, aren’t you?”

“Everything’s fine.” He turns his head, giving me a quick smile before he pulls out of the garage.

Maybe I don’t want to know.

The ride to his mother’s house is silent as Vince weaves in and out of traffic, and finally we’re swinging around Harlem to leave Manhattan. Orange light shines through the window as we drive over the Robert F Kennedy Bridge and lands over my thighs in an orange strip.

I’m a little bit nervous as we drive closer and closer to Brooklyn.

She might not like me. My own mother doesn’t.

“What did you do today?”

Vince looks unhappy, almost like he wants to distract himself. I hope he’s not regretting that he brought me.

“I bought this dress. I also—I shoplifted a bunch of makeup.”

The guilt’s been eating at me all day and I want to confess to someone. I expect him to be angry, but he throws back his head and laughs like it’s a hilarious joke.

“Why?”

“I was stressed out,” I say as my cheeks burn.

“Over this?”

“Over everything.”

He lays his hand on my lap and squeezes my thigh. “It’ll be all right eventually, Adriana. You’ll see.”

Why do I get the feeling he’s talking about himself?

Eventually, we stop in an upscale part of Brooklyn in front of a row of low-rise, brownstone apartment homes. Dappled sunlight shines through the trees lining the block. It’s a beautiful, quiet street.

“I bought this place for Ma a few years ago.” He leans on his car, regarding the house for a moment with a small smile.

I’m envious. I wish I could do that for my mother. Hell, for myself. “This is really nice, Vince.”

“Didn’t you say your Mom lives in Brooklyn?”

“Bushwick, yeah.”

Vince winces sympathetically as he walks around the car, sliding an arm around my neck. His fingers brush against the tag under the fabric and he pulls it out.

“No, don’t take it off!”

“What? Why not?”

I’m so fucking embarrassed as he looks at me with laughter in his eyes, uncomprehending.

“I need to return it,” I hiss.

“It fits you perfectly.”

“I can’t afford it,
all right
?”

My skin heats up as people walk by us. My eyes dart frantically up and down the street, anywhere away from him.

“I’ll pay for it,” he says in a low voice.

I meet his eyes, mortified. “Vince, no!”

“Oh, yes,” he says in a darker tone. He holds my neck firmly, his eyes narrowing. “You don’t let me buy you anything.”

“That’s so not true! You get me food all the time—”

“That’s nothing.”

“It is not nothing. It adds up.”

Before I can protest, he rips the tag from my dress and glances at the price. “It’s peanuts and you’re worth it. You deserve nice things.” He takes my furious face in his hands and kisses me so gently that I can’t help but melt a little.

“Thanks,” I say breathlessly when he pulls back.

“Your welcome, my little thief.”

My heels wobble on the pavement as we walk up the steps to his mother’s brownstone. The polished, dark wooden door frames a thick glass. Vince rings the doorbell and I’m digging my nails into his palm. A grin spreads over his face as a distorted shape grows larger.

The door swings open; revealing a slight woman with blonde dyed hair and tanned skin. She’s dressed in a long, flowing skirt and a white blouse.

“Hi, Ma.”

“Vinny!”

She wraps her thin arms around Vincent, who stoops down so that she can kiss him on both cheeks. Her face shines with ecstasy as her gaze falls on me and gasps out loud.

“Oh my God, you must be Adriana!”

I’m blushing when she pulls me in for a hug, kissing both cheeks as her body trembles with excitement. Vincent’s mom exudes warmth, but it’s a little bit intimidating to be on the receiving end of so much attention from a stranger. She holds my arms as she pulls back, appraising me. To my astonishment, her eyes are wet.

“Bless you! I never thought my Vinny would find someone.”

“
Ma!
”

“Well, it’s true!” she says defensively.

She releases me and I look over to see Vince shaking his head, a faint pink tinge coloring his cheeks.

I laugh a little bit to myself as he ushers me inside. I’ve never seen him look vulnerable, but I’m thoroughly enjoying it. It’s fascinating to see controlling, possessive,
proud
Vince squirm. The house is decked out with brand new furniture. I expected to see moth-eaten couches from the 80’s, but Vince’s mother seems to be committed to making her house look modern. Religious artifacts are strewn around the house: figurines of Jesus, Joseph, and Mary adorn the mantelpiece over the fire, there are crosses everywhere, small Italian flags, but none of it is cheesy or overdone. The whole house is meticulously clean. It’s clear that Vince probably pays for a maid service, so that his mother doesn’t have to do it herself.

She strokes his head and fawns over him, asking whether he’s been eating well and what did he eat for breakfast and he looks skinny, is he sure he’s eating? I feel a strange pang as I watch them and look around at the beautiful house.

An amazing, ambrosial smell saturates the air, growing stronger as we approach the kitchen. The table is already laden with
salumi,
freshly cut slices of Italian country bread, olives, and cheese.

“Eat, eat!” She flaps her hands, motioning us to sit down as she gathers plates. I ask her if she needs help, but she declines.

All of it reminds me so much of my grandmother that I immediately feel at home. It’s all familiar to me; from the type of bread to the cold cuts she chose. Nostalgia bites the back of my head as I take a powdery piece of bread and rip off a chunk to eat.

Mrs. Cesare smiles at me as she drops a glass of water in front of me. “Adriana, tell me about yourself. Where are you from? What do your parents do?”

I swallow hard as my throat tightens at the subject. “I’m from Brooklyn, just like Vince. My mother lives in Bushwick alone and she’s unemployed, but I try to help her out. I’m going to school at Columbia.”

I’m hoping that the mention of the school will deflect her questions about my parents, and it does.

“Columbia!
Maddon,
that’s a great school. Your mother must be proud.”

My mother could care less. “Yeah,” I say, smiling.

“So modest,” she says as she walks back to the stove. She opens the lid of her dutch oven and steam spills off the edge. “I made
stracotto
.”

Vince stretches his arms behind the chair. “One of my favorites.”

“Adriana, what are you studying in school?”

I take an unnecessarily large gulp of water that makes my throat bulge as I swallow it down. “I’m not sure. I don’t know whether I’ll be attending school this fall, so I haven’t thought of it too much.”

Mrs. Cesare takes our plates and begins doling out the stew. The pot roast sits on a bed of crushed tomatoes and the smell immediately makes my mouth water.

“Why not?”

Across the table, Vince gives me a sympathetic look as my hands fidget under the table.

“Tuition is very expensive and my financial aid didn’t cover everything this year.”

“How horrible,” she says after a moment of silence. When she gives Vincent his plate, a stern look crosses her face. “Vincent, you have to help your girlfriend.”

Heat flushes my face when I hear the word, ‘girlfriend.’ Vince has a steady look on his face. He’s not seriously listening to his mother, is he?

“Yeah, I was going to anyway.”

Motherfucker.

“No, you’re not,” I glower at him, completely forgetting about his mother. “It’s over twenty-thousand dollars, Mrs. Cesare. I can’t let anyone pay that for me. It’s too much—”

“Your education is worth it, Adriana.”

She waves the ladle at me. Her brown eyes blaze with intensity, looking remarkably like her son’s.

I lower my eyes and keep silent, vowing to tell Vince off the moment we leave the house. I will not take his money. My stomach burns at the very idea. I won’t owe anyone anything. Ever.

The meal is delicious and afterwards, she puts out a plate of
biscotti
and little glasses of Vin Santo, a dessert wine. We dip the cookies in the wine, eating them as Mrs. Cesare asks Vincent about work. He doesn’t say much, of course, but I have a feeling she knows exactly what her son does for a living.

“He’s a good boy,” she says as she grasps his arm. “Always has been. Takes care of his ma, his girlfriend.” She pauses, giving me a huge smile again. “
Maddon,
I’m so happy you two are together. I told him:
Vincent
, you need to start thinking about settling down with a wife and kids.”

The
biscotti
crumbles in his fingers and he buries his face in his hands. I can see the tips of his ears burning red. “Ma,
please
.”

“Oh, shush. You’re thirty-three years old for God’s sake.” She looks at me, clearly enjoying his embarrassment. “He used to tell me that he had no intention of settling down. I was so angry with him, Adriana.”

“Jesus Christ!” he finally yells.

“Don’t take the Lord’s name in my house.” She swats his shoulder hard and he glowers at her.

I have to pinch my thigh to keep myself from bursting into laughter. Vince squirms in his seat after that, eager to leave, and keeps shooting me looks like I should say something about leaving. After another half hour, he finally curls an arm around my waist and we head down the hallway to leave.

She kisses both of my burning cheeks nearly four times before we both leave, and Vincent’s face falls with exhaustion when our choruses of “goodbye” are swallowed by the door.

“Jesus, finally,” he whispers as we descend the steps.

I’m actually grinning ear to ear. “I had a really great time. Your mom is great.”

“She just likes embarrassing the bejesus out of me.”

He opens the door, his face a little bit pink as I smile knowingly and step inside. “She was very excited to see me.”

“Yeah, that’s why I was dreading this. I knew she would be like this.”

He shakes his dark head, starting the car and pulling out.

“I think it’s nice that she cares so much,” I say in a small voice.

I can’t tell him that I’m burning with jealousy for all the love and attention she lavished on him at the house, which was clean and not filled to the brim with junk. It’s a rude awakening to meet other people’s parents and compare them to your own.

When he brings me back to campus, he’s back into that nervous, jumpy state that he was when he picked me up.

“Vince, I can walk to the dorm myself.”

“I’m walking you to your dorm.”

His gritty voice makes me stop talking. How is he always able to get me to do whatever he wants? I open the door and Maria is gone. He steps inside without asking, pinning me against the wall with that blazing look. I want to ask him questions, but I know now’s not the time. His mouth is on my neck, giving me a vicious hickey while his hand moves under my dress. I follow him into the bedroom blindly, addicted to the pleasure stirring in my abdomen.

Afterward, my body feels sore but deliciously satisfied. He curls an arm around my waist so that I’m practically buried in his chest.

“Vince, you’re not paying for my tuition,” I whisper.