Just like Frankie.
My throat tightens and I clench my fists.
And Marchella.
Fuck.
I turn to Ray. “Make sure Bobby meets Frankie at the meeting spot Sal gave him.” My jaw twitches. “And get me a location for his sister.”
Chapter Six
Marchella
A heavy feeling in my gut weighs me down as I finish straightening up Frankie’s room. We are not running away from our lives. Our reality is bleak right now, but dammit, I’m going to figure out a way to make it better. There has to be something better out there for us.
I thought we hit rock bottom when Mama died. I had no idea how much deeper hell went.
But, as they say, when you finally do crash, you have nowhere to go but up.
So that’s my glass-half-full perspective for the day.
My mind wanders back to my shift last night at the bar and the mystery man who left me hundreds of dollars as a tip for pouring liquor into his lap, then left me high and dry after my shift.
His eyes had been so captivating, it reminded me of another time…a happier one where I was carefree and in love. Sure, some might have said it wasn’t real because I was only fourteen, but I know what I felt.
It’s strange. The man from last night was rough and cocky and arrogant, but those eyes…they gripped me in the same way. I’d have followed him just about anywhere while caught under his salacious spell. There had really only been one other guy who’d elicited this kind of response, but that was such a long time ago, in a different life, one where we danced around our feelings for years because the danger overshadowed the future.
And then a worse danger seeped into our lives, poisoning any chance of us being together.
I was young but I knew what I wanted, what I needed.
Then I was yanked away forever, and what I wanted was shoved into the dark recesses of my mind and heart, to the point where it almost felt like a figment of my imagination.
Like it wasn’t ever real.
Like it never could be again.
Fast forward to the present.
I let out a deep sigh. Dating and sex…those are luxuries I haven’t experienced in a very long time. Most guys aren’t too thrilled about hanging out with the daughter of a convicted murderer, and an infamous gangster to boot.
My shitty past just insists on dictating my future. It’s like the quintessential re-gift that just keeps fucking looping with no end in sight.
Too bad, because some mind-bending sex is exactly what I need to get my mind off of our dismal circumstances. I thought I was on the path toward it last night, but oh well.
I bite down on my lower lip, the memory of his scent infusing my senses yet again.
So strong, so heady, so masculine.
God, I’d love to have broken my dry spell with him. We wouldn’t have had to exchange names, so there’d be no risk of him freaking out once he found out who I was. It would be pure carnal bliss…sweaty, hot, and—
“Thanks for helping me pull my shit together,” Frankie says, jerking me from my wanton daydream. He zips up a hoodie and twists his baseball cap around so the bill is backward. It’s his classic “I take no shit” look.
“No big deal. I had the time,” I say in a rueful voice, shrugging.
“What are you gonna do this afternoon?” he asks, and I furrow my brow. He sounds way more interested than normal in what I have planned for my low-budget day.
“Maybe I’ll go for a jog, something we were supposed to do together, remember?” I say, wagging my finger in his face.
“Tomorrow,” he promises.
“Yeah, well, I won’t hold my breath.”
I walk into the kitchen and pull open the refrigerator door. It’s dismally empty, save for a six-pack of beer, a gallon of orange juice, and a few eggs. “You said pizza for dinner?” I ask with a quick grin.
“You got it,” he says, giving me an affectionate punch in the shoulder. “Hey, ah, since it doesn’t sound like you have anything really pressing to do, why, um, don’t you take a ride with me? I was planning to make a stop before I head over to my meeting.”
I narrow my eyes. “And where exactly are you going?”
Frankie rubs the back of his neck. “To visit Papa. Wanna come with?”
“I’d rather donate an eye and pluck it out myself with a pencil. Besides, I don’t relish the idea of running home from Rikers so you can take your meeting.”
“Chella,” Frankie says. “You really need to see him. To talk to him. It’s been too long.”
“I have no interest in talking to him,” I grumble, slamming the refrigerator shut.
“I really think—”
I spin around, my lips twisted into a grimace. “Look, I get that you had a special bond with Papa. But we never had the same connection. He let you in on things, gave you guidance, tried to prepare you for this life. I never got the same attention. He could never talk to me the way he did with you. He could never teach me things he taught you. But he could have made an effort. I tried and failed. You know what? I needed him, too, especially after Mama got sick. And he faded away more and more once she died until he was finally gone. Literally.”
“I always thought it was because it haunted him, how much you look like Mama. How you have a lot of her mannerisms.”
“You don’t think that haunts me, too?” I say through clenched teeth. “And you see it, too. Did you toss me aside because you couldn’t handle it? No! But that doesn’t even come close to explaining why for years before that he cast me aside.”
“He’s not a bad guy. He tried to do what was best for us, and for Mama when she was here. He made a lot of mistakes, yeah. But he always took care of us.”
“Until he got put away and made our lives crumble around us again. He did it once and we had to find a new life in a different country! Then he did it a second time when he killed that guy and left us to pick up those pieces, Frankie. We had to take care of each other because there was nobody else to help us!” I hold up my hands. “Wait. Stop. I don’t want to do this right now. I’m already nervous enough for you to go to that meeting. I don’t want to go down this road with Papa. I can’t. He made his bed.”
“Okay,” he mumbles. “I just think that maybe it’s time to figure out how to move past things. He is all we have left.”
I shake my head, smoothing down the front of my t-shirt and pulling my hair into a low ponytail. “I’m not ready, Frankie. I’m hurt. And angry. And frustrated. I don’t know when all of that is going to blow over, if ever.”
“You can’t hold a grudge forever,” Frankie says softly. “He’s still your father.”
“Yeah, well, right now, he’s just a guy who’s responsible for ruining my life. Twice.” I slip my apartment key into one of my sneakers before sliding my feet into them.
“Okay, well, just consider making a visit someday, Chell. He always asks about you. He knows he fucked up, and I think he wants to make it right.”
I press my lips together into a tight line. “Just please, please be careful, Frankie. Call me. I’ll have my phone glued to my hand in case you need anything.”