1
ROSIE
The massacre happened on a Tuesday.
Seven days later, we were all burying loved ones. Shortly after that, we fled the scene of the crime and let new families build dreams where ours had shattered. Before that fateful Tuesday, our cul-de-sac had been tight-knit, families sharing meals, kids riding bikes and walking to school together. If a complete outsider dropped by during dinner, they would have seen a beautiful mix of cultures blending at the table. It was us (the Vegas), the Marchettis, the De Lucas, the Patel’s, and the Patriarchas. We’d always felt fortunate to share a block with those names. After all, they practically owned Providence, which ensured no one fucked with us. Until they did, in the worst imaginable way.
Dad ripped us out of there with such force that it took a couple of years for our roots to attach to new land. Since the move, he’d preached so much about wrongdoings that I thought he had cleaner hands than a surgeon about to walk into the O.R., but of course, I’d been wrong. I wasn’t sure if all of the warnings he’d given were for my brother’s and my sake, or his own. Maybe to talk himself out of whatever he was thinking about getting into. The reason didn’t matter anymore, since his own warning didn’t resonate enough in himself. They say children shouldn’t have to pay for their parents’ sins, but all of us who grew up in that cul-de-sac knew better. We knew it was only a matter of time before someone knocked on the door to collect some kind of favor, or in Dad’s case, money he’d borrowed.
I hadn’t seen Gabriel De Luca in ten years before he waltzed into the club where I was currently paying my father’s dues. Time had done him well, at least physically. He looked like he’d walked right off the pages of GQ Magazine: Wall Street Edition. He’d been my first boyfriend and first kiss, but our relationship was cut short prematurely. When we reconnected a few weeks ago, it was as if no time had passed at all. Not in a fairy tale, love at first sight sort of way. Sparks didn’t fly, and butterflies didn’t flutter, but there was a bond, a kinship. The kind only a person who’d survived the same trauma could understand. Some would say it was kismet that he ended up working as the accountant for the man who owned the club where I was bartending, but because Tommy Costello was the owner, and Gabe De Luca was, well, a De Luca, I’d call it inevitable. It wouldn’t have mattered, us sharing this boss, if not for the fact that I’d poured my heart out to Gabe about everything from how I’d ended up working for Tommy in order to clear my dad’s debt to him, to some of the personal things I’d overheard Tommy talk about in his office. Gabe hadn’t stepped foot here since that night, and while some may call that a coincidence, I knew better. I’d seen the way the bouncers practically dragged him out of here and put him in the back of an Uber. To make matters worse, he wasn’t answering my calls or texts, and I had no idea who to turn to about this. The only person who could possibly know his whereabouts was his brother, but I’d been careful not to ask about that De Luca. Besides, Gabe told me they’d moved to Italy to be with their father when they left Providence. I was sure his brother had managed to take over the entire boot by now.
“Your hands are shaky today.” Ruth’s voice cut through my thoughts over the music. She was the best mixologist in here, so of course, she’d notice everything about the way my untrained self made shitty drinks.
“I know.” I wiped my hands on the rag hanging in front of me.
“Nervous?”
“No.” My eyes swept the entire VIP area. “I don’t know.”
“Because of you know who?” she asked, shooting me a concerned look.
“No.” I shook my head and picked up the bottle of champagne to deliver to one of the tables in VIP.
That was the thing about working a bar; the people mixing and pouring the drinks paid attention to everything. Everything. On my way to the section, I spotted Reid, the man Gabe was always accompanied by. Reid had been here all of their usual nights sans Gabe, drinking his overly expensive bourbon that I swore he only ordered to show off that he could afford it. As I walked over, I noticed that Gabe was nowhere in sight again. The smile he was directing at the woman in front of him grew when he saw me and let his eyes trail up and down my body. I held my head high as I stood in front of him.
“What’s up, Rosie?” he asked, shouting over the music.
“Work, as usual.” I smiled. “Where’s Gabriel? I haven’t seen him in a while.”
“I should be asking you that question.” His brows rose.
My smile slipped. “What do you mean?”
“He hasn’t been in the office all week. I figured maybe you knew why.” He gave a wink. I stared at him. His eyes were all shifty, the way they got after he’d just done a line. I clenched my fists at my sides.
“How would I know why?” I shouted, and it had nothing to do with the loud music. “You’re his friend!”
“Aren’t you two . . . you know.” He winked.
Of course he thought that. Because I paid extra attention to Gabe, everyone thought we were fucking. I hadn’t bothered to correct them or tell them that we’d known each other since we were kids. This was a temporary job, so I really didn’t care if they thought I was screwing the regulars. My real job, the one I had before this mess, was as a soloist dancer at the city ballet. I was on the cusp of getting a promotion to principal dancer when this went down. Besides, letting people think I was screwing Gabe was better than the reality, which was that the owner’s sleazy brother, Anthony Costello, was the last one who had the privilege and the one who was constantly sexually harassing me just because he knew he could.
“He hasn’t been in touch,” I shouted.
“Oh. Well, then he’s probably just out of town on business,” he said, leaning in closer. “Sometimes he goes out of town to visit clients and forgets to tell us.”
“Oh.” I frowned. Wouldn’t he have access to his phone, though? “Yeah, that could explain it.”
“I’ll let him know you asked about him.”
I nodded and waved as I walked back to the bar. Normally, because it was so loud and fast-paced, it was easy for me to tune out thoughts I could easily obsess over. It wasn’t working tonight. I tried to recount every single conversation I’d had with Gabriel since he started coming in here. I’d said too much. I shouldn’t have told him about Tommy’s accounts or about Dad owing him money. I definitely wished he hadn’t seen the way Anthony manhandled and groped me in the hall last week. Gabe didn’t ask about it though. He’d just offered me a sad, sympathetic smile, and that might’ve been worse than asking because, behind the smile, I saw the pity.
I had no idea what his brother was up to, but Gabe became a hot-shot accountant and was obviously rolling in money, so he probably saw me working here as a step down from the life he led. It was bullshit and unwarranted. Bartending was a demanding job, a necessary job. I hated the way people looked at us as if they were superior because it was their credit cards we were swiping. I added calling him out on his superiority complex to the list of things I was going to address when I saw him again.