High Stakes (7 page)

I don’t really drink wine, but I take the glass and swirl it around. I inhale its scent, and marvel at the rich, floral tones.

Once everyone’s seated. Vincent’s voice cuts through the idle chitchat and the room immediately falls silent.

“I want to thank you guys for making everything in Jersey run smoothly. Job well done,” he says simply, raising his glass. “
Salute
.”

Flummoxed, I raise my glass with the others and bump it against their glasses. I have no idea what he’s referring to. I feel like needles are prickling over my skin and I take a large gulp to settle my nerves. The normal, lazy chitchat descends over the table and I listen hard as Vince talks to Paulie in a low voice.

 “We’re going to have some guys from the Jersey outfit join us in the next couple of weeks. I know it’s not going to be easy, but the boss wants things to settle down.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Paulie make a face under his wine glass. “Fucking stupid cocksuckers. Who gave them the go-ahead to pinch those suits?”

Vince lets out a rough exhale. “Jack won’t tell me. He says we need to put it behind us.”

The older man shakes his head, a very ugly look on his face. “There are no fucking standards anymore. Everything’s about money. In my day—”

He utters a warning sound as he notices me watching them and Paulie falls silent. Their eyes go right through me like a spear and I look away, my heart beating hard. What did it all mean?

The appetizers arrive quickly, Vince having ordered already, and I turn my attention to the four ravioli sitting in a pristine white bowl. Creamy, yellow sauce covers the pasta and fresh bright green chives add color to the dish. We share the dishes and I take a bite of the ravioli. I’ve never had anything like it. There’s cauliflower and cheese inside the pasta. The sauce is made out of some sort of squash. It tastes incredible.

A lustful smirk spreads over Vincent’s face whenever the waitress, a stunning blonde, reenters the room. They smile at each other like it’s not the first time they’ve seen each other, and finally Vincent grabs her hand. She laughs as she stumbles towards him, falling over his lap. His hand wraps around her waist, squeezing her hips as she giggles and tries to remove his hands.

A hot, sick wave of jealousy makes me drop my fork onto my plate, my appetite evaporating. I’ve never been too great at hiding my emotions and I know my face is probably the color of a fire engine. Nicky looks at me, smiling, and his face falls.

“Hey, what’s the matter?” he says in his loud voice.

“Nothing.” I want to look away, but unfortunately Nicky’s seated on my left and I don’t want to seem like I’m ignoring him.

“You look upset.”

His tone makes other eyes flick towards us and makes my head even hotter. I want to wrap my hands around his throat. I know he won’t drop it until I make some sort of excuse.

“I’m just a little tired, that’s all.”

Behind Nicky, their lips touch briefly and another flush of angry heat makes me ball my hands into fists. Is that his girlfriend? I’ve never been this jealous in my life. I hate it. It’s stupid. I don’t want to be that girl. He has every right to kiss whoever he wants.

I just wish it were me.

Why do you wish it were you?

Nicky turns his head and watches Vince and the girl, then he turns back to me with a sympathetic smile, like he knows. His look says:
You poor girl.

Great.

I just hope he has enough tact not to tell Vincent, but he honestly seems like the type who would do it anyway. My eyes wander down the table, avoiding Vince completely for the rest of the meal. Drink after drink slips down my throat and sadness tightens my chest. I can’t taste anything. I can’t see anything but my own despair. I always get like this when I drink too much, because every day I spend my energy blocking everything that upsets me. The alcohol loosens me up, makes me angry when I hear intrusive thoughts slipping through the crack under the door in my head normally kept firmly shut.

First it starts with my jealousy, and how I never get what I really want. I’d trade it all away; give everything up if it meant I would be happy. Life has been a black hole ever since Dad died, because they got away with it. They got away with murdering Dad. Nobody is safe in this world and there’s no justice. If only I listened to Dad and stayed in the bedroom, he wouldn’t have died. I’m sure of it.

Everyone thanks Vincent as they head out to leave. My head pounding with wine, I approach Vincent and murmur thanks. I’ll take the subway home. I don’t think I can stand another half-hour in his presence. Looking at him feels like yet another failure.

He grabs my wrist before I can walk two steps, very much like how he grabbed the waitress. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“Home.”

“I’m driving you,” he says it like it’s obvious.

“I can take the subway. I’m
fine
.” I’m a little shocked at how hostile my tone is.

Holy shit, Adriana. Do not mouth off to him.

I’m just glad there are only a few people left in the room.

“You’re drunk. I’m not letting you walk around alone at this time of night.”

Who the fuck does he think he is? I look at the other guys for help, but they’re all wearing amused looks on their faces, like my behavior towards their boss is funny. The monster inside me wants to tell them to fuck off and leave me alone, but instead I stalk off towards the entrance and decide to wait for him there.

“What’s her fuckin’ problem?” I hear him say to Nicky as I leave.

Oh, fucking great. Great job, Adriana. He buys a fantastic meal for you, and this is how you repay him?

I’ll never drink again.

When Vince finally meets me in the lobby, his expression is unreadable. He doesn’t look angry, and I take that as a good sign. We walk back to the car together, Vince occasionally giving me curious looks. I wonder what the fuck Nicky said and I shake my head in embarrassment.

“I’m surprised you showed up at the game today.”

The comment startles me so much I stop in the street. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“I figured once you found out who I was, you wouldn’t want to come back.”

He raises his arm and unlocks his car. I stare at the blinking headlights.

This is my chance. I could quit now, if I want, but I don’t feel the slightest inclination to quit anymore.

“Doesn’t make sense,” he says as he leans against his car, his arms crossed.

“What doesn’t make sense?”

“You.”

His voice echoes in the nearly deserted parking garage. I rub my arm feverishly.

“Girls who go to a school like that don’t get mixed into something like this, they don’t get drunk at dinners with their boss, and they definitely don’t mouth off to a guy like me.”

Without even realizing it, I’m standing in front of him, seething, but one look at him makes me realize that I better swallow down my rage. How dare he judge me? I want to set him straight, but it’s none of his business anyway.

“Thank you for dinner. I’m really sorry about everything. It won’t happen again,” I say while staring at his chin.

His finger sweeps up my neck, making me gasp as he lifts my chin so that I’m looking into his eyes. “Everyone’s got something to hide. What are you hiding, Adriana?”

Chapter 4

“Mom!”

My ear is flattened against the wooden door, and I can’t hear any movement inside. Any sign that anyone’s home. A siren wails in the distance, making me jump.

Only a frantic phone call from my mother would make me abandon my obligation to deal at a card game. She may be a pain in the ass, but she’s still my mother.

“Mom!” My fist hammers against the wood, rattling the cheap brass knocker, until finally I heard the turn of the deadbolt.

The door is yanked open to reveal boxes piled up to the ceiling and my mother wearing ratty looking pajamas, a cigarette hanging from her lips and her hair mussed up like she just rolled out of bed. She looks at me with heavily lidded, calm eyes.

She is perfectly fine, and although that relieves me—it makes me incredibly angry, too.

“Mom, what’s the problem?” I ask as I step inside, immediately feeling my skin crawl from the stuffiness inside the house. Racks and racks of metal display cages sit against the wall, the price tags still attached. Jade jewelry sits in a pile on the coffee table. “What the hell is all this?”

“I’m making my own jewelry and selling it on EBay. These displays were on sale at Target. I saved a lot of money.” She grins happily as she shows me them and moves around the house, showing me more useless shit she bought because it was “on sale.”

I want to tear my hair out. She wasted my money on this junk? My hard earned money. I’m so broke that all I can’t even afford the meal plan at school. Not mom. She has boxes and boxes of instant food, huge bottles of water shoved into a corner (in case of a disaster), and she even has beer.

“I know you said not to call you about money—”

“So you decided to lie to me to drag my ass all the way over here, wasting my time.” I want to rip apart her stupid jade jewelry and throw the beads in her face.

She has the audacity to look offended.

“It is an emergency. Honey, I need money to pay for my electricity…my rent. Things are really tight.”

Fury builds inside my chest. “I already gave you money. You decided to spend it on junk. Not my problem.”

I turn around to leave. If I hurry, I might not be late for the card game. I threw on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, but showing up like this would be better than not showing up at all.

A bony hand seizes my arm. “Don’t fucking turn your back on me, Adriana! I need you, just like you needed me when you were little. This is how families have been for generations. In Italy, families live together, even when their children get married. You’re supposed to take care of me.”

“No, Mom.
You
were supposed to take care of me.”

“Yeah, and I think I did a pretty good job.”

You didn’t.

Her brown eyes gleam as she looks at me, a tear streaking down her lined face. When she turns her head, the light catches her face in a way that reminds me when she was younger. She was better. She didn’t hoard things until after Dad died. Against my will, I feel myself soften. What happened to my Mom? Why can’t she heal?

It’s the same reason I haven’t healed.

She spends her days alone, stuck in this dreary house that needs so many repairs that she can’t afford. There’s no one to help her. No one except me.

“Please, baby. You’re all I have left since Dad was taken from us.”

“What happened to your job at Target?”

She looks down at my shoes. “I quit. My back hurts from standing all the time. I can’t do it anymore.”

I can’t do it anymore, either. Despair chokes my lungs as I realize I’ll never be free of this. Of her.

“You’re really lucky that I have a well paying job.” I sit down on an uncluttered space on the couch and rip out my checkbook. I had a feeling that I would need it. “I’m not giving you cash anymore, Mom. You just end up wasting it. I’ll pay your bills, but I won’t give you cash.”

Her eyes narrow as she stands in front of me, exhaling smoke through her teeth to billow around me. I know she hates it. She hates being at my mercy. I won’t let her control me anymore.

I scribble out checks to PG&E, to the landlord, even to fucking Comcast. They’re slammed against the table. “Don’t ever lie to me like this again.”

“Who the fuck do you think you are, talking to me like that?” Her hair shakes as she screams at me. “I’m your mother!”

Standing up, I have a violent image of lunging across the table and wrapping my hands around her throat, squeezing until her eyes bulge. A second later, I’m sickened with myself.

“Bye, Mom.”

She screams and rages at me the whole way out, and it takes everything in me not to turn around and fight back. All the hurtful insults roll off my shoulders.

The door slams behind me and I strain myself trying to remember happy memories with my mom. There was a time that she saved enough money to send me to summer camp when I was thirteen. I was so excited about it. She blew the money on an expensive purse she saw that was on sale. I cried about it for days.

My phone buzzes angrily and I reach inside my purse as I walk swiftly towards the subway. I clamp it over my ear.

“
Why aren’t you here?”
 The cold voice hisses in my ear. It’s completely without warmth.

“I’m sorry, Vince. My mother said she had an emergency. I’m on my way now.”

At once, his voice softens. “
Is she okay?
”

The question makes me boil. “Yeah, she’s fine,” I say with a little heat in my voice. “False alarm. I’m really sorry.”

“
Forget about it. Family first. Just get here when you can.”

What if I can’t stand my family?

* * *

I’m nearly sprinting when I get out of the subway, taking stairs two at a time until my lungs burn. Luckily the Hilton is only a couple blocks away. Inwardly, I’m cursing my mother. I’m late. I’m not dressed appropriately.

I don’t care if a hospital calls me that my mother is on her deathbed. I’ll never fall for that shit again. What a bitch.

My hands rake through my tangled, messy hair. Not only is this unprofessional, but I don’t want him to see me looking like this. The steel in the elevator reflects my image and I desperately try to make myself look presentable.

Everybody’s waiting for me when I burst inside. They’re sitting around, eating cold cuts and smoking, chatting. I spot Vincent right away and I clutch a stitch in my side. He’s dressed in a suit, looking impeccable as usual. He walks over to me and takes in my disheveled appearance with a smile.

“Did you sprint all the way here? I told you to take your time.”

“Yes,” I gasp.

“C’mon, hon. Everyone’s waiting.” He tells the others that they can begin the game, and I slump into the seat behind the table, exhausted.

“So why did your mom call for an emergency?” Vince says as he stands beside me.