Riders on the Storm

by SexyLexiCullen

Welcome to part 3 of the storm series. Sixteen years after Weather the Storm. Follow the Skip, Bella, and their kids - now older, wiser, and enmeshed in the family business. How will Edward cope with trying to teach Damion and Sonny the ropes, keeping Kylie out of trouble, and Bella happy? Does he still have what it takes to juggle all his duties? Mobward. OOC. AU. Romance/Humor.

35. Drama at Twilight

Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight. No copyright infringement is intended.

Beta'd by HollettLA

MONSTER chapter. Get a comfy chair :-)

HUGE thank you to everyone who's still with me! Thanks for your reviews, your encouraging words. They inspire me and keep me going!

Enjoy!

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"Riders on the Storm"

Chapter Thirty-Five: Drama at Twilight

Damion POV

Since I put too much garlic on my pizza, I was quick to brush my teeth after eating. It was close to bedtime anyway, almost nine o'clock. I've been getting a lot of rest lately, which has helped with my overall academic performance.

After taking a piss and washing my hands, I went back to my room. Ethan was out for the night, spending it with Melinda, and Jordan looked cozy . . . reading on my bed.

I jumped—overeager for snuggling, cuddling, and sleeping—into that same bed wearing a smile.

Jordan giggled. "What are you so happy about?"

I sighed, pulling her back against my chest. "Having you here."

"Stop…don't get all romantic on me."

"It's true." And it was. "I just like spending time with you."

"Me, too." She faced me, turning on to her stomach. "Tell me more about your parents. Was it really love at first sight?"

"I think so."

Before I'd gone into the bathroom, I was telling her about my parents' marriage—how they've been so in love for almost thirty years. She thought it magical, and I had to agree.

"What about your family? You know all about mine—not much to tell." She stuck out her tongue.

I tried to grab it, which made her fall back, laughing.

Ever since my father called me earlier, Jordan has been asking questions. It piqued her interest, and we don't really speak about our outside lives at all. I was surprised she cared. She's the one who's been pushing this…friends with benefits dynamic.

Dad has called me before while Jordan has been around. She just never cared, never asked questions, but she's been acting differently…wanting to get closer, and I dug it.

To my surprise, though, it's working for me—having no commitment, just having fun.

She's amazing to be around. If we're not at work, we're laughing and having a good time.

Jordan's cool, very easygoing.

If I just need to nod out, I don't have to entertain her; we don't have to fuck, and just cuddling is fine.

There's no fucking drama . . .

I'm content, however, I want more, and I don't want to push it—create drama when it's unnecessary.

"What about them?" I asked.

"What does your father do?"

I laughed.

"What's funny?" She smiled, too.

"Nothing. He—he used to practice law, but…it wasn't his thing. He manages a club—has two clubs, actually; they're nightclubs. And he's a silent partner in a few other establishments."

"And your mom?" She let her ponytail loose.

I combed her hair with my fingers. "She's a homemaker, a mom."

"A mom?" she laughed. "That's all she is? What are they like? What was your childhood like?"

"Like…a normal childhood, I guess."

"Are you any relation to those other Cullens?" She lowered her voice. "Those mob people?"

I swore my heart stopped for a second. "Who?"

"Even in Omaha, it'd be on the news…Every few years, there'd be something about the New York mafia people. I never knew the name, though. But it was in the paper a few weeks back." She nodded. "I don't remember the name. Some guy—weird name, or whatever. He was found dead or something." She shrugged.

"No." My stomach tied in knots. "You thought I was related to them?" Forcing a chuckle, I shook my head.

"Well, seeing the name Cullen, I thought I'd ask—was just curious, didn't mean to offend. I meant to ask you a while ago, but it wasn't important." She rested back against me.

"What'd this article say?" I gently twirled her hair around my fingers.

"Um, it was about the guy who died—went into how some father and son team are running things now. They had pictures and everything."

I stiffened, since everyone says I resemble my father . . . "Yeah? What are they like…these fat, greasy Italian guys?" I chuckled. "Just because I'm from New York, and I'm Italian—"

And my last name is Cullen, I thought.

"No, no…I'm not insinuating anything. They were fit, but they weren't great shots. I dunno."

"I don't read newspapers or watch the news."

"Okay." She paused, a smirk appearing. "Tell me something no one knows—a secret." Jordan poked my side.

"A secret?" I grinned, knowing I had loads, yet racking my brain for one I could share. "Well," I leaned farther into her, "I love watching you sleep—"

"What?" she laughed.

"And sometimes…the drool on your pillow, it's not always yours...It's mine." I winked. "I'm absolutely mad for you—obsessed." I started to tickle her sides, and she screamed—wiggling around.

And it was only a half-lie, as I was crazy about her, but I hadn't fallen headfirst.

"Cullen, stop!" she giggled, playfully swatting at me. "Seriously. Give me something."

I shrugged. "You keep telling me that you…want this to be casual. You don't do small talk…although I enjoyed learning more about you—your family." They seemed like normal middle-America people, farmers—whatever. Hearing about their farm—all the work it takes to run it—was very interesting. "I don't share because I don't think you care to know."

"I do care…nowadays." She sat up and back on her calves. "But I said that because…"

"Because?" I bent low to meet her gaze. "Tell me." I landed a loud smooch on those sad lips. Unfortunately, it didn't work—she didn't smile. "Jordan…?"

"I'm afraid of us getting close…I mean, at first I was afraid of being so busy with school and adding more to my plate—it might pull me away from my goals. I didn't want any distractions, but…"

"But?" I tickled her again, however, she didn't laugh—just moved away from me.

"Cullen, being with you…we study, we spend all this time together, and I haven't gotten sick of you—not that I would. You know how it is—seeing someone at work, here at the dorms, eating every meal together. Being with you is my new favorite thing."

"Come here." I pulled her into my arms again. "I agree—with everything you just said, I agree 100%."

"I think you'll inevitably hurt me—break my heart." She looked down, pursing her lips.

I grabbed her chin, so I could continue looking into her eyes. "I'm no fortune teller. We're having fun—I'm having a blast." I smiled. "But…hurting you…if I ever do, it'd never be my intention. Shit happens, though. I dunno." I shrugged, wondering if that was the correct thing to say. To say I'd never hurt her . . . with my track record, I wasn't sure of a fucking thing.

But . . . hurting her . . . I'd never set out to do it.

She waved a hand. "Us being Sappy-McSappersons is a buzz kill." She snorted. "But thank you for saying that." She licked my cheek 'cause she's a nut. Then again, so am I. "I already said too much . . . You spill something—nothing heavy."

I nodded. "Okay…When I was a little kid, I used to play with my mother's makeup, try on all her shoes. If I had the body, one like yours—" I made a honking noise, grabbing her boobs "—I would have probably tried on her clothes."

She sucked her teeth. "Yeah, right."

I showed her my palms. "It's true."

"Oh." She chuckled. "Wow."

"I was…quirky, I guess." Thinking back, I still have no clue as to what my fascination was with that—my mother, her clothes. "I think it was because of all the colors. She had sparkly, shiny dresses, and glittery makeup. I was a weird kid. My cousin Anthony and I—" my face fell, thinking of him; I missed the fuck out of him, knew he'd adore Jordan "—they used to call us the knucklehead twins."

"Do you have any pictures?"

"In my phone," I said, not wanting to leave the bed and get it. "We actually look alike. Not so much now, but when we were kids, people thought we were twins—brothers, despite the height difference. Actually, my real brother—we don't look that much alike; he looks like my mom, but Ant…Geez. We used to do the oddest things…" I looked back to Jordan. "I used to love to draw, too, and the shit I'd draw." Throwing my head back and laughing, I wondered if my parents kept any of them—my pictures. "I still doodle...on just about everything."

"I know. I've scoped the napkins, the side notes in charts, the Post-its that fall out of your lab coat." Jordan beamed at me. "It's cute . . . but if you secretly wear dresses now—"

"Fuck, no." I spat.

"Then, we're cool."

I laughed, shaking my head. "How 'bout you? Any skeletons I should know about?"

She winced, looking up to the ceiling.

Leaning back, I studied her, coming to my own conclusion. "Go on. Tell me some hot lesbian story."

She gasped. "How'd you know? And it's…it was just a kiss, whatever."

"Most broads have some girl-on-girl secret," I said. "It's not surprising."

She frowned. "You figured me out . . . I've got nothing else. Oh! One time, my friends and I went cow tipping—"

"People really do that?" I asked, only ever hearing about that shit in movies.

She nodded. "In the country, there's not much to do. Anyway, I sprained my ankle running away from this guy with a shotgun. We never tipped the cow."

I waited for her to say more. "Well . . . tell me about that kiss anyway." I'd still enjoy the story.

"Perv." She bopped me with a pillow.

I pecked her cheek. "Yes, I am a perv." My gaze fell to her tits. "You should take off your shirt before you tell me. It'll help with the visual."

She narrowed her eyes. "I'll strip right now—tell you a hot story, if you wear my panties while you listen."

"Oh!" I jumped back, 'cause that was a wicked plan. "We can do that."

The both of us started to crack up. "You'd really wear my underwear?"

"If it kept you outta them? I'd wear 'em on my fuckin' head." I snorted.

She sighed, biting her lower lip. "You just got all . . ."

"All what?"

"Guido." She stared at me. "I don't know . . . You have this…rough side to you?"

I hummed, hoping Jordan would start to undress soon. "Do you think I'm sexy?"

She nodded, reaching to take off my glasses. "You're amazingly handsome, sexy, and your hair…" Her fingers wove into it, pushing it back. "You're perfect."

"I'm far from—"

Jordan placed her hand over my mouth. "You're perfectly Cullen."

I smiled, chuckling. "Right." It came out muffled, and then my cell phone rang from my jeans' pocket. We both looked to the floor, where my pants were.

"You're not going to get it? Do you think it's Amelia again?"

I shook my head, not giving a fuck.

"It could be your dad. He calls you a lot." She stared at me. "You just don't wanna get up—lazy." She went to grab my pants.

I yanked her arm, yanked her back to me. Whoever it was, they'd leave a message, and I'd call back. "I'm still waiting for you to undress and tell your story." That was more important.

She giggled again, leaving the bed, and I let her. "I was fifteen—" she tore off her shirt, twirling it and throwing it at me; I smacked it away "—it was the summer." She went for her sweats, pulling them down and stepping out.

Jordan looked sexy as sin, in her pink polka dot panties and white bra, her hair wild and flowing down her shoulders. Her thighs were thick, her breasts nearly toppling out already as she reached back to get the clasp.

I tossed my own t-shirt across the room.

"Um…" Her bra fell to the floor, but she crossed her arms, covering those puppies.

"What's up?"

"I'm not saying any more until you put these on." She shimmied out of her panties.

I blew out a breath, going over to the door—making sure it was double-locked.

Shit happens.

Ethan could decide to come back. I mean, walking in on us fucking is one thing, but somebody seeing me in panties?

Never going to happen.

"Here you go." She held them out. "Wait, allow me." Her chest touched my own as she pushed my boxers down. "Oh, my, my, my . . . Are we excited?"

I looked to my hard cock. "Yup . . . What'chu gonna do about it?"

She raised a brow, licking her lips. "You did diagnose that kid with appendicitis—"

"I did." I nodded.

"—before he puked on you."

"Oh, yes. Talk dirty, baby." I pushed her hair away from her shoulder, so I could get the whole visual. She was naked before me, and it took all the willpower in the world not to—

"A man like you…" She walked around, circling me, running her hand down my back. "Brains, brawn, and hot as hell." She nipped my earlobe, her hand snaking around to my waist. "A blow job?" Jordan grabbed my dick.

I groaned, leaning back against her. "No…"

"No?" She sounded surprised, jacked me faster.

I smacked her hand away and turned around. "No."

She grinned, stepping back. "Put them on."

I took her panties and threw them across the room as I advanced toward her. "Get on the bed." I went in for the attack.

She squealed, running—hopping onto the bed and getting under the blanket.

To be a dick, and because I wanted to see her, I yanked the covers away. "Lie back."

She crinkled her brows, sitting up. "You, get in here and lie back." She pulled me onto the bed. I went with it, getting comfortable as she straddled me, her humongous tits in my face.

I hissed, palming them, pinching and pulling her nipples.

"Fuck." She tossed her head back. "Your touch—how rough you fucking pull on 'em. Drives me wild." She sounded like me for a second there.

"Oh, yeah?" I sat up, biting one while my fingers tweaked the other, her squirming on top of me.

"Get a condom," she whined. "Now."

I let out a shaky breath, trying not to jostle her as I nabbed one from my nightstand. She was perfect right where she was. I didn't want her to move. She'd never ridden my cock before, and I couldn't wait.

Speaking of, I've recently become a pro at putting rubbers on.

Trust me; I'm more than careful these days, and I think it's about time a Cullen learned to use one.

Sadly, I know how the men in my family think. Condoms are useful when it comes to having promiscuous sex—sex with whores, loose women. When it comes to the women they love, pregnancy, having a child is a gift, and they won't hinder that. It's ignorance and old school-style thinking, but even Sonny has that mindset.

I don't want a "Oops, I'm having your baby" moment, or a "Oh my God, I have the clap" nightmare.

Once it was on, I just waited—holding my breath, excited as fuck. "Come here," I whispered.

She smiled, bending low, her hair curtaining her face. Our mouths met; I palmed her cheek, kissing her deeply, our tongues tangling, our bodies rocking against each other. "You're wonderful," she whispered.

I swallowed, shaking my head.

This was a new side to Jordan. The past few days, she's been opening up—and I didn't know what was up or down anymore. What were we?

The way I see it, we're both vulnerable in the same and yet different ways—neither of us wanting to get hurt.

"You were like a rock star today in the emergency room." She leaned away, grasping me, aligning us.

I moaned when she let her weight drop, my cock entering her. "Fuck me." She felt too good.

"Uh-huh," she sighed, picking up a rhythm. "You in a scrub cap..." She took my hands, bringing them above my head, going faster. "You think quick. You never get nervous—" Little did she know, although I never have to think twice about things while I'm at work. "You never hesitate to jump into action…you're so smart." She whimpered, grinding into me.

"You…" That's all I could say, panting for air, in awe of her—in awe of how much she loved the cock, my cock. "Let go of my hands."

She obeyed, pulling back.

With my hands free, a growl fell from my lips, grasping her hips and moving her even faster. She cried out, reaching up and messing her hair, and it was the hottest fucking shit.

"Keep doing that," I said, gnawing my lip, not even breathing, and I was going to— "Stop!"

Her chest heaved, her hips halting. "What's wrong?"

I blew out a breath. "I was…"

"Oh." She nodded in understanding. "So was I . . . You suck." She slapped my chest.

I chuckled, holding her close and turning us over. My cock left her, but I'd needed the break.

Sometimes, being with Jordan is too much.

I wasn't sure if it was a mental issue or a physical thing, but . . .

I've made a new rule for myself—one she knows nothing about—Jordan has to come before I do . . .

Because when we're together, when she's naked, I get overexcited. It's like I'm a teenager again—quantity over quality when it comes to my dick.

I've been coming faster and recovering to go again a lot sooner . . .

"You're gorgeous," I whispered, running my nose along her breast, circling her nipple with my tongue before I bit down—my finger twirling around her clit. "Spread 'em."

She let her legs fall open, staring into my eyes. "I want you."

"I want you…" And I did, in more ways than one.

And as much as I'm trying to break away from my upbringing, trying not to be this fool who rushes in, all I want is for us to be official. But I didn't want to be that guy . . . wearing my heart on my sleeve, jumping into another relationship.

We were chill.

We were…literally…best friends who fucked.

Why couldn't I just relax and go with the flow? We're not even indefinitely exclusive; I could date others if I want to, but I don't. Although, if she started fucking someone else, I'd be incredibly disappointed—thinking we had something.

And I'd probably kill that poor bastard, whoever he'd be.

Trust.

But Jordan doesn't know about my occasional need to engage in homicidal behavior . . .

Fuck me.

My eyes clamped closed, working her pussy, thinking about her sweet-tasting pussy . . .

I couldn't think about that other garbage. I haven't thought about that shit in weeks, nor have I had that itch.

"Kiss me." Little did she know that kissing her . . . that's one of my new favorite things to do.

"Gladly." I grinned, leaning over, placing an open-mouthed kiss on her heart—my lips lingering and peppering loud kisses up her neck.

She giggled, mewling, melting into the mattress. Her face lit up, the biggest smile there. "You make sex fun. I never had that before—this much fun. It was always…boring? Never this pleasurable?"

"Happy to oblige." I smirked. "But you're the sexy one." I bopped her nose with my own, realizing how quiet I've been. All the compliments—she boosts my ego daily, fucking hourly, and I'd yet to be real with her—lay some shit out there. "You have so much natural beauty, it's almost like you're too good to be true. Bitches wearing makeup and heels, just anything to make themselves look better. But you . . . Just you, the way you are, you're so fucking pretty. And you're so intelligent, even your mind is—"

"Stop."

"No . . . You have to believe me." I nearly begged, my hand roaming down her body, and I sucked in a breath through a hiss—trying not to dig my fingers into her soft flesh.

Most of the time, the reason why I withhold the truth is because she thinks I'm lying. She's said that she finds it hard to take me seriously since I was with Amelia—someone who could easily be a model—yet she outshines Amelia by a mile. They're different. There's no comparison.

"You're confident but you're not at the same time. You're independent. You don't give a flying fuck about a lot of things." I chuckled. "Not many people can pull that off, and it's incredibly sexy. You have no idea." I groaned, needing, wanting her pussy; my fingers parting her lips to rub down the center, gently entering her, slowly pumping in and out, my thumb making circles . . .

"So fucking wet. Hmm." I heard that sexy, slippery sound—sucked her earlobe into my mouth.

"Cullen!" She dug her nails into my forearm. "Oh my God." She lifted her head to watch my hand. "Just…" Her head fell back, a loud moan getting caught in her throat.

"Wait…I don't think that came out right."

"I'm—I am soaked." She squeaked.

"No, that other shit." While I contemplated the wonders of the world, I fingered the fuck out of her, and she'd started getting mad loud. "You like that?" I went faster. "Look at my hand as it fucks you."

Her eyes widened, a look of complete ecstasy in them, her lips parted . . .

"I just meant—hmm—" I bit her nipple; it was right there "—you're so fucking amazing, perfect. You get me hard with just one fucking look." My gaze went back to her face, and she was staring at the ceiling. "Look at my hand."

She blew out a breath, staring down. "Fuck."

"Yeah...I mean, Christ. Sometimes, I think I might come in my pants…you're my little whore, my sexy bitch." My eyes widened, 'cause . . . what I said, but she didn't slap me.

"Fuck you!" She gritted out, becoming rigid, her pussy milking my fingers; she was coming. "Oh my God . . ." Her hips rose, her hands guiding my forearm, making my fingers go knuckles deep—with more force. "Shit." I watched her toes curl, her eyes roll. "Whoa." She faced me. "Just…wow."

And as I watched her climax, I'd stopped breathing again, my muscles tight—coiled, ready to spring.

"Fuck your wow. I'll show you wow." Overzealous, tired of restraining myself, I crashed my mouth to hers—my knees parting her legs, my cock finding her quickly.

This time, we both stiffened when I entered her—letting out sighs of contentment.

Then…only then, when were connected, was it okay to slow down again. But only for a second. She squirmed below, getting comfy, and I pulled her hips closer, my forehead leaning to hers.

"I get lost in you," she whispered.

"What?" I pulled back to thrust into her hard, my palms spanning her head, my elbows leaning on either side.

She cried out, shaking her head. "Nothing." Her nails clawed my shoulders.

I reveled in that pain, hitching her thigh over my hip, going deeper and faster—fucking her good, coming all the way out just to fall back in. "Tell me something." I bit her lip, sucking it back.

"Harder," she whined.

"Good." I leaned back, holding her hips, fucking her with no abandon now; it made her tits jiggle, which was hypnotizing in a way. "Who fucks you this good? Huh?" I felt like the man right now, owning this pussy.

"You—Cullen!" she shouted.

"That's right. Me." I groaned, grabbing her ankle to toss her over. She got on all fours quickly, sticking her ass out.

I fucking whacked it, and then I rubbed out the sting.

"This ass." The one I wished to call my own . . .

I entered her again, my fingers digging into her hips, pulling and pushing her on and off, watching my cock disappear into her pussy.

My heart was practically beating out of my chest, my breaths shallow, a fire building in my gut, and I swore I'd hold on . . . just a little bit longer.

Logically, I should have slowed down, but I sped up instead—my hands trailing up her back to grasp her hair, and then I wrapped it around my palm, pulling her up—her back flush against my chest.

"Christ." I tried to kiss her, but I missed—slobbering on her cheek. It was cool, though. While I still had her hair, my other hand held her shoulder, 'cause I wasn't deep enough—we weren't close enough.

"Yo!"

I heard Sonny.

Confused, I stared up to the ceiling as I fucked her, wondering if I was going insane. "Did you hear that?" I panted.

"What?"

I groaned, letting go of her hair to spank her ass. I love watching it jiggle, so I did it again.

"Harder."

"Word?" I raised my hand, excited, a smile on my face as it came down with force—this loud thwack sounding in the air.

Jordan hissed, hitting back against my abs harder. She dug it, smirking at me from over her shoulder, and I was done with that look, about to lose my shit—

"Dame…?" It was Sonny again.

"Who's—who's th-that?" Jordan heard it, too.

"Fuck!" I gritted my teeth, letting go—

"Yo!" Sonny shouted. "Open up."

"Go away!" I roared, still coming, my body stiff—holding Jordan's ass as if my life depended on it, keeping us connected. "Holy fuck." I gasped for air, falling over to my side, spent, sweat soaking me.

Jordan's face was scarlet and so was her ass.

"I'm sorry." I swallowed, rubbing along those reddened spots on her behind.

She grinned. "It was fine . . . I liked it. You got all…beastly on me, Cullen."

"Cool. Beastly." I smiled, since that summed me up pretty well.

She pulled me in for a kiss, this sloppy yet perfect smooch.

"Stay like this," I whispered against her lips.

"I should get dressed," she giggled, not moving off her stomach. "Who's at the door?"

I sighed, trailing my finger over the marks I left on her bottom. "My brother." My eyes widened, realization dawning on me, as I scooted closer to kiss her ass cheeks—wanting to make it up to them, although thoroughly enjoying it—while acute fear settled in the pit of my stomach.

Jordan asked me flat out if I was any relation to those Cullens in the paper. My only hope was that they used Caius and Dad's mug shots, and there hadn't been a picture of Sonny. I hadn't seen that paper. Maybe it was Caius since he was on the one who died? My father since he's the boss?

She was right, though.

Every few years, my father's face graces the New York Times with the words "alleged", "accused", or "supposed" all before the big headline, "Mafia Don" followed by some activity.

It's usually bullshit; some small factoid hits the press, and they print it to sell papers . . . Even good things. My parents have been on Page Six plenty of times after attending charitable events.

Regardless of how he makes his money, my father is one of the wealthiest men in New York, who also schmoozes with political figures and other rich fuckers, a few celebrities—mostly rappers that think he's the shit. They become gangster by association, and Dad gets them to perform at Midnight Sun for pennies.

But what was I supposed to do? Tell Jordan to get in the closet? Hide her from Sonny? Or, hide Sonny from her?

"Cullen?"

"Hmm?" I'd rested my cheek to her ass, hugging her close yet awkwardly, not wanting to let go—face the reality of this situation.

"Someone's knocking." She looked back to me giggling. "Comfortable?"

I placed another soft kiss down before I left the bed, catching a total head rush as I did so. "Fuck." I chuckled.

"You okay?" She sat up, grabbing for her clothes.

"Damion?" It was Dad now. "We can hear you—know you're in there."

My mouth made an "O" shape as I pulled the condom from my dick. "Get dressed," I whispered.

Jordan was steps ahead of me, already had her bra on. "Where are my panties?"

I shrugged. "Take my boxers." I looked for sweats.

Jordan forgot about underwear, pulling her pants up.

"Dame...?" Dad knocked again.

My head was a cloudy fucking mess, scrambling for clothes. I put my jeans on and pulled a t-shirt over my head. Then I pulled on the fabric. It was tight, didn't feel right.

"That's my shirt," Jordan said.

I shook my head, tossing her a different one.

"That's a woman's shirt." She danced from foot to foot.

I went to unlock the door, not giving a fuck.

"Cullen, it's purple...Jesus. Pull yourself together." She scolded.

I groaned, looking down to the Hello Kitty shit I wore. "What the fuck?" I was quick to exchange t-shirts with her now. "Why'd you let me put that on?"

"Let you?" she laughed.

I didn't reply, pausing just for a second. "I'm sorry," I said.

"Don't be sorry."

"I am sorry…know that."

"That's silly." She seemed confused, slipping her feet into her sneakers.

But . . .

In a moment, she might find out that I'd lied to her.

She might realize . . .

I was fucked.

Jordan's not stupid. There's no pulling wool over her eyes.

Coincidental names are one thing, but seeing my father and me side by side, and if his picture was in the paper . . .

I knew she'd make the connection.

So, I lied, but I think anyone—anyone who was me, in my situation—would have lied.

However, once she makes the connection, what would she do with that information? There was a chance she'd never speak to me again. There are those who understand, think it's cool or don't care. . . There are some, however, who are just completely disgusted with my family's way of living.

Our way of living, how my family makes their living . . .

Criminals.

"Look—" Dad started.

"I'm here." I rushed out. "Sorry." I unlocked the door, only sticking my head out, which was a total cop-out, a pussy move. "What's up?"

Dad went to walk forward, but he stopped when he saw I wasn't budging. "You tell us."

I looked to Sonny, silently pleading with my eyes.

"You busy?" my brother asked, smirking. "Your boo-boo's in there?"

I nodded.

Dad looked me up and down. "Get dressed, and then—"

"We're clothed." I shrugged, pulling the door closed even more. "Was there something you needed?" My heart sank, asking my father that—acting like a total dick after all . . . all we'd been through the past two months. Maybe I don't see him and my family all that often anymore, but we still talk all the time.

"No…" Dad furrowed his brow, his face falling. "Uh…" He turned to Sonny.

That was when I just opened the door wide, stepping aside.

I liked Jordan. I liked her a lot, but . . .

I wasn't going to cut off my nose to spite my face.

I wasn't going to betray or disrespect my father for a woman.

Women come and go, but Edward Cullen—alleged "Mafia Don"—will always be my father.

"Come in." I stood back. "It's a mess…"

Dad walked in first and Sonny followed, grinning at me. "Heard you slappin' somethin'." He punched the air. "Good for you."

"Shut up." I couldn't help but smile, turning to Jordan, thinking this might work out okay. "This is my father and my brother—Edward and Sonny." I gestured to each. "This is Jordan."

"Hey. How ya doin', hon? It's nice to finally meet you." Dad put his hand out.

Jordan stared at him, a wide-eyed wonder, her hand limply meeting his for a shake.

She'd made the connection.

"Um…" I scratched my head, and what to introduce her as was another matter. "We work at the hospital together. We're both students, third years . . . She lives here, on the fifth floor. We were studying. We're colleagues and...third years?" I rambled, and I think I repeated myself, a nervous wreck.

"I know all that," Dad said, looking back to Jordan, smiling. "I've heard a lot about you...Dame speaks very highly of you." He was going above and beyond being polite, actually seemed interested, his face lighting up. "Wish my wife was here. She's dying to meet you again."

"Again?" Jordan gave me a fleeting glance.

My shoulders slumped, remembering when Mom dropped me off some dinner at the hospital. I didn't tell Jordan or anyone who she was. I just introduced her as Bella. "Yeah, um, she brought me macaroni...We shared it." I felt like a total idiot.

Sonny laughed.

My head whipped to him.

He shrugged. "That sentence just sounded funny. What?"

Jordan tore her eyes away from Dad to stare at Sonny.

He waved at her.

"This Sunday, we're having a big dinner at the house. You should come with Damion." Dad was going to scare her away with the meet the family, acting like we're getting married shit—he always comes on too strong.

"Oh—"

"You're from Nebraska?" He cut her off.

"I—I—Yes, I grew up in Omaha, sir—Mr. Cullen." She was nervous, too. "Y-You talk about me?" Jordan's face was pale as she looked to me.

I nodded, stepping closer to her. "Is that okay?"

"Yeah." She slightly shook her head, staring at her feet, but then her head came up to stare at Dad. "You're Edward Cullen."

He nodded. "I am." His gaze flashed to mine.

Sonny nudged me. "What's her problem?" he whispered. "Did you guys smoke or something?"

I gulped; shit was hard to swallow.

"Uh…" Dad smirked at Jordan, who was still just fucking staring at him, and then he faced me. "Your grandfather insists you join us tonight."

"Insists," Sonny repeated. "Just come, show your face."

I shook my head, not interested at all.

"Dame, it's your grandfather's party. I can't believe you'd back out in the first place. After all, we don't know how long he'll be with us." Dad hit me with some guilt. Too bad, I didn't feel any. "At first, I didn't want you coming either," he whispered, but everyone heard him anyway. "We're all going to be there, though."

"I just…" I didn't know what to say.

"I…" Jordan stared at Sonny again. "I have to go." She turned to me.

"What?" I grabbed her hand.

This time, she wasn't looking at anyone's face; she studied some focal point.

Following her line of sight, it led me to the nine in Sonny's waist. His hand was in his pocket while his other toyed with something on my chest of drawers—Ethan's Magic 8 Ball.

"Stop touching my shit." I spat.

Sonny put both hands up, which made his jacket close, concealing his weapon.

"I'll see you tomorrow." Jordan went for the door. "It—it was—um—nice meeting you guys . . . You're tall," she told Sonny and then she booked—fucking took off with a quickness.

"She seems…nice," Dad said.

"I'll…" I didn't finish my sentence, running down the hall after Jordan. "Hey!"

She stopped, only to turn and walk backward. "You said—"

"What was I supposed to say?" I asked.

She sucked in a shaky breath. "I mean, wow . . . but I asked you."

I chuckled, albeit nervously. "You can't believe what they print in papers—"

"He's got a Wikipedia page." She pointed, keeping her tone hushed. "And they can't have that up if it's blatant slander. Do you see where I'm going with this?"

I stepped closer to her. "I thought you were different, better than this—to judge me, most of all for shit that doesn't concern me? I'm here—I go to school. I—" I felt like I was betraying everything . . . my life, my other life, my family.

"I'm not—"

"Yo, we were only fucking. How is any of that even your business?" I asked.

"Only fucking…right." She stepped back.

I shrugged. "You drew that line from the first night."

"I just can't believe you'd keep that from me. I thought…"

"What they do—what they allegedly do is none of your concern, and I suggest you drop it right-the-fuck now—don't bring this shit up again. Understand?"

"This was all too good to be true—"

I cut her off. "Furthermore, I can't believe I'm standing here discussing this with you—that's how much this is a nonissue—doesn't concern you." By now, I was on the defensive, shooting off at the mouth; meanwhile, I had no idea what I was saying.

"Was everything you told me a lie?"

"What do you think?" Circumstances notwithstanding, she had to know me better than this; she had to look past this. "Honestly." I grinned, 'cause . . . even if we kept things casual, she possibly knew me—the real me—better than most. "You know—"

"Fuck you, Cullen. Fuck. You." Her lip quivered.

"Oh." I smiled, when I felt like I was dying inside. "Very mature of you." I had no idea where that came from.

"I was shocked," she whispered. "For the record, I didn't judge—hadn't judged you . . . until now, right now." She looked me up and down, disgust in her eyes. "I don't care what they do." She shook her head.

"That's bullshit."

"How could you be so cold, so cruel—saying all those things and not meaning them?" She choked on a sob. "I believed you like some idiot. And none of that had anything to do with your family . . . What the fuck, Cullen? You sick, twisted bastard…How could you? How could you play me like that? If all you wanted was sex—"

"That's all I wanted. That's all you wanted," I sighed, my heart breaking. "Cruel? You're schooling me on what's cruel? You're being fucking brutal right now—I'm a sick, twisted bastard?" She was right on the fucking mark. "Listen, we should talk—not here in the hall. Sit down and really talk because…"

"I need you to know that I'm not upset about that." She pointed back to my room. "How could you have said all those things? And I believed them. I knew this was a mistake…I mean, you cheated on your girlfriend with me…How could I have thought I'd be any different…? I'm so stupid."

"You're not." I reached for her hand. "Just let me—"

"Don't." Jordan jumped back, had calmed down and was wiping her eyes. She pulled herself together for a minute. "This is drama. I said I wouldn't—couldn't do drama . . . It was only sex—"

"If it was only sex, and you don't care, then why are you so upset?"

"I never said I didn't care." She put her hands up, backing farther away. "Unless it concerns patient care…" Her voice was shaky; she was trying not to cry.

"I get it." I nodded, stepping away. "Don't talk to you unless…"

Her face crumbled and then she ran for the stairs.

I held my forehead, watching her go—wanting to run after her because I was pretty confused. I was so defensive…just saying anything, and I could only remember half of what was said. My mind drawing a blank, my stomach queasy, and all I could think about was her face—the sadness I saw that threatened to make me cry.

But going after her . . . What good would that do? The end result would still be the same.

If I would have told her the truth about my family . . .

No, I couldn't tell her the truth. She couldn't possibly understand that world, nor would I ask her to carry that burden—being a nobody, an outsider with that information. It's one thing to know—have the suspicion—it's a whole other thing for me to confirm it.

Jordan also didn't understand why I couldn't tell her . . . why I lied. And I couldn't even explain that shit either. All of which…takes me back to the beginning.

It's not like she was my girlfriend or anything. We fucked—were best friends with benefits for a month—thirty fucking days. And thinking of that now . . . I couldn't believe a whole month had gone by. It feels like just yesterday, when I brought her back to my room for the first time.

A whole month?

Wow.

Amelia and I had been broken up an entire month—thirty days I was with Jordan, and it went by in a flash.

When I was with Julie, she knew . . . but only because her parents told her. That was back when we were juniors in high school, though. What my father did for a living never affected our relationship. If anything, Julie benefited 'cause—back then, in high school—we were attached at the hip. She got an all-expense paid trip to tour Europe with me. She'd tagged along a few times when we'd gone on vacation as a family, too.

For whatever reason, this was never an issue when I was with Julie—she and her parents didn't care, never judged.

Amelia . . . we had the same upbringing, which goes without saying.

Why did I give a fuck? Why did I care so much?

That face she made . . .

Those tears . . .

The disappointment in her eyes . . .

Christ. Imagine if she'd learned the truth about me? About my other life? The shit I'd done . . .?

But for the first time ever, I was ashamed of the role I'd played once upon a time, which wasn't that long ago . . .

Don't get me wrong. Any guilt I harbored for causing trouble was aimed at my father, for placing Dad in a situation, but I never . . . like thought my soul black and empty, never felt the things I'd done were morally wrong.

Jordan would.

She'd think me evil. She wouldn't recognize me. Her learning about my misdeeds, that'd be a shock and a half.

Yet, with Jordan—the whole time we were hanging out and getting close—I felt more like Damion, the real me, than I had in years.

At first, I brushed it off as I was still playing a role—the shy med student—but then I realized I wasn't.

I was being myself.

I was comfortable in my own skin for like the first time ever.

I'd let her see me.

She saw me.

And now . . .

What did it all mean?

My steps were slow as I walked down the empty corridor, feeling as though I might start to weep at any moment.

As I got closer to my room, I was able to hear my father and Sonny laughing.

I plastered a small grin on my face as I turned into the room.

"Will Grandpa get laid tonight?" Sonny shook Ethan's Magic 8 Ball.

"Reply hazy, try again." Dad cackled, turning to face me—must have felt my presence. "Will Damion get his ass dressed and come out tonight?"

Sonny smiled at me, shaking the ball like maracas in the air.

They were both none the wiser, seemed happy, like nothing had just happened. Of course, the hallway is long, and they hadn't heard a word—didn't know there was a problem.

With my track record—where women are concerned—they probably just thought Jordan was weird or shy.

Dad looked down to the 8 ball. "Put on a suit and get that look off your face. You're coming." He smiled. "I like this thing."

"It doesn't say that," Sonny said.

I sat on my bed, trying like hell to act normal, whatever that is. "What does it say?" I asked. "For real?" Ethan puts so much stock into that stupid toy, asks it many things, and I always laugh at him. Yet, I'm always curious as to what the answers are.

My brother smirked, briefly flashing his perfect teeth. "Without a doubt," he said. Even his teeth were flawless, whereas I had braces for two years as a teen. "We'll have a good time tonight . . . Maybe not as much fun as you'd have with your honey, but..." His face fell for a millisecond before he grinned again, going for his cell phone that was in his pocket. "It's for Grandpa…just come chill for an hour." His thumbs moved, composing a text. "I need to get my ass home early."

Even so . . . In a suit, ready to go for the evening, Sonny looked accomplished, debonair, handsome without even trying, and I bet his life is perfect, too. He's got mad money, he's respected—feared—by some of the most gruesome, intimidating dudes here in New York. He has a brand new house, a beautiful wife, and I was . . . I had nothing.

I was still jealous of him.

It wasn't resentment. I could never hate him, not for the lucky hand God dealt him.

I used to be able to insult him in my mind and out my mouth, and I tried to believe that shit to no avail.

All that shit just wasn't true.

I love Sonny very much, and he's one of the best guys out there.

But I wished . . .

I'm sure he's paid his dues—I know he's earned everything he's gained, but why couldn't my life be simple? That easy? That awesome? It was like he had the world on a string.

Then I thought about Katie and the shit she did to him—the torture she laid on him in the past and present. But Sonny kind of bounced back from that nicely—quickly. He didn't shut down, and here I was . . .

But then he has Maggie.

If I had Maggie . . .

I cringed, wanting to jump out a fucking window. No, I no longer harbored feelings for her, but why did I have to think about her again? I cared for her now. I didn't want-want her.

If I had a girl like Maggie, someone supportive, honest, and attractive . . . I thought I had Jordan, but she never truly belonged to me.

Nevertheless, I was happy for my brother, but like my sister once said…

Maybe I was a hater?

No, I didn't agree with that about myself either, because I couldn't—didn't hate Sonny at all.

He's just lucky, I guess, and . . .

Ever since I was a kid, I wanted to be him—tried like hell to be just like him. He was so fucking cool, and even now . . . He's still awesome. I always looked up to him and admired him. But I am smarter than him, book smart, which counts for something, I guess.

"Where are we going again?" I asked.

Dad went for my closet. "I told you—Grandpa's party. Eclipse. Mad heads'll be there. That's another reason why I want you to come, too. Show your face. And you will be coming back to Bay Ridge with me—see your mother in the morning. What's it been, a month?"

"Right." I briefly forgot about my grandfather's shindig. "I saw Mom…" I tried to think.

"No. It's been a month, and she misses you." He was correct.

The last time I saw any of them was on New Year's Eve, except for Sonny. We met up for lunch a couple of times. Still, we hadn't done that in like two weeks. "I have school—"

"Don't worry about that," Dad said.

"You okay?" Sonny asked, gently squeezing my shoulder. "You, you know, you look…" he whispered, giving Dad a fleeting glance. "You all right?"

I nodded. "Yeah." I actually felt nauseous.

"She's pretty . . . and those tits." Sonny nodded, holding his hands out. "Bet you get lost in those things, huh?"

"Yeah." I cleared my throat.

"Thank God Grandpa didn't come up." Sonny widened his eyes, wincing. "Now that shit would'a been embarrassin'."

"'Cause you're more respectful—you waited until after she left to comment about her breasts?" I raised a brow.

Sonny nodded. "Well, yeah . . . Grandpa might'a tried to a cop a feel." He snorted, busting a gut as his cell phone dinged. He read his message but smiled at me. "Good for you, Dame."

"Good for me?" I asked.

"Yeah…from talking to you this past month, what Dad has said, and you even look different—relaxed, happy. Maybe not so much in this moment." He gestured to me. "You sure you're okay?"

I nodded.

"It's just one night—a couple hours." He kept his tone hushed, thinking I was upset because I had to go out with them. "Anyway, we fucking miss you like crazy, but I'm happy you're happy, dude." He hit my shoulder again. "I'm fucking…over the moon about it actually."

"Oh…Well, thank you." Needless to say, I was no longer happy—if that's what I was a half hour ago. "You think she's pretty?" I asked him, only because Julie was on the thick side, and he'd dis her any chance he got.

"Very pretty—beautiful," he said. "She's…uh, what's that word?" He nudged my father.

"I look like a mind reader? Or a fucking duhsorous?" Dad jerked his head, going through my clothes.

I laughed. "A thesaurus, Dad?"

"That's what I said…Here, wear the DKNY." Dad handed me my gray suit. "You have a blue shirt?" He turned for my closet again. "Where the fuck are all your clothes? There's nothin' in hea!"

"Home . . . I only have what I need." I was on autopilot as I got undressed to redress.

Sonny snapped his fingers. "Voluptuous—that's it."

"So was Julie." I fastened my pants, and my father tossed me a belt.

"No, Julie was sloppy—ugly." He shuddered.

"Be nice," Dad said.

"There's a difference." Sonny showed us his palms.

Dad looked to me. "Beauty is in the eye of the beholder." He sounded like some fortune cookie, not my father.

"I'm just saying." Sonny shook his head. "I've been with women—all shapes and sizes, bro. There's a difference from being stacked, thick, and gorgeous, and then sloppy and ugly. Besides, who the fuck am I? I'm not the one sleeping with her. Why's it matter what I think anyway?" he asked me.

"I don't know," I admitted.

"I won't lie . . . She seems weird."

"Cut it out." Dad punched Sonny's shoulder and then faced me. "She seemed like a lovely girl."

"Shit." Sonny rubbed his shoulder. "That hurt."

"Get over it." Dad flinched toward him again.

"You don't hit him." He pointed to me. "You never hit him. Fuck, you never even yell at him. And he asked my opinion. I'm being honest."

My father rolled his eyes.

"I did…weird how?" I asked.

"Why do you care what this motherfucker thinks?" My father kicked my dress shoes over.

"Oh! I'm a motherfucker now?" Sonny asked him.

Dad ignored him, waiting for me to answer.

"I dunno why," I whispered, 'cause it was true. I didn't know why I wanted to know what Sonny thought, but I knew his opinion mattered to me. Although, it didn't make a fucking difference anymore. Maybe I was looking for him to say that Jordan was ugly, since I assumed he would because of his thoughts on Julie.

Again, the two don't compare. They look nothing alike. But maybe if Sonny put Jordan down, I'd feel better?

That's bullshit.

"I mean, she looked like she wanted Dad's autograph—" Sonny shrugged "—which isn't a bad thing. She just froze. So, she was either scared or in awe, and I'm guessing she knows . . . something." He shook his head. "I don't know, but I'd hit it . . . If I was single, I'd do her." He winked, giving me a thumb-up. "Now that's the Santino stamp of approval."

"Thirty years ago," Dad nodded, pursing his lips, "I'd hit it, too."

A small grin crept up on me; they made me feel better for some odd reason. I didn't know why, although my smile was bittersweet at the same time. "I, um, I can't stay out long."

"Yeah, you can," Dad said. "You're with us." He looked really happy, more than I'd seen him in a while. "My boys . . ." He gave Sonny a loud smooch, and then turned to land one on my cheek. "You look good." He fiddled with my collar. "Just…your hair's fucked, but it works. Push it back, like mine."

I did as he said, pushing my hair back. "I have pre-rounds. I—"

"Put on cologne. You smell like pussy." Sonny handed me my bottle of Curve.

"Jealous?" I spritzed some on.

Sonny tilted his head, letting out a chuckle with no humor. "Let's just go already."

I looked to Dad. "I can only stay out an hour."

"Trust me. I got you." He pulled me into his side and kissed my cheek again, and then again...and then again. "Gah. I missed ya."

That made me smile because I never thought we'd be this way. "I missed you too."

"Take the day off tomorrow."

"I can't." I turned to hug him tightly.

"What happened?" he whispered, rubbing my back. "Tell me."

"She saw the newspaper weeks back…She didn't know, but now she does." I pulled back. "She never even knew your or Mom's names…then suddenly she's overloaded with info . . . I also lied, said I wasn't related to the Cullens in the paper." I felt like shit admitting that. "I'm sorry."

"Why you sorry?" Sonny asked. "I would have lied, too."

"Yeah, well . . . now she thinks—forget it." They wouldn't understand even if I tried to explain.

Dad palmed my cheek. "Those who matter won't mind, and those who mind won't matter." But he didn't know the half of it . . .

"Where you comin' up with this garbage?" Sonny shook the 8 Ball again. "You never tell me that soothing shit—always cursing at me, barking orders at me."

"Stop getting all testy," Dad told him, "with this chip on your shoulder already—snappin' at everyone. Enough."

"What? No sweet, encouraging words?" Sonny cupped his ear.

"Yeah." Dad nodded. "Those who don't wanna get smacked, get the fuck outta my face."

Sonny laughed at him and I don't think I'll ever understand their relationship. My brother was right, though. While Dad was being very nice to me, he wasn't being his usual self. Then again, he's always nicer to me . . .

"Did you want me to talk to her?" Dad asked me.

That made me chuckle. "And say what? For what? We were only…We weren't together. It meant nothing."

"Okay," he sighed. "We've been up here a while. We need to get going."

I nodded, sitting on my bed to put my shoes on.

We were out the door two minutes later, and then joined my uncle and grandfather in a limo. They were arguing when we entered, but then they shut their mouths. From there, and to my surprise, we went to scoop up Anthony, who was already here in Manhattan.

/=/=/=/=/=/

KYLIE

/=/=/=/=/=/

Mom and Alex were acting like total goofballs. They were drunk, dancing and singing along to Dirty Dancing. Having grown up watching that movie over and over—whenever Mom felt like watching it—it kind of just played it the background while I texted Gio, scoped Facebook, tried to be discreet while talking to my friend.

Maggie actually paid attention, got all starry-eyed by the love story of it—seeing Baby and Johnny in herself and her "Santino".

So, while Baby was put in the corner, and my counterparts became engrossed—anticipating the last scene, I stared out the window.

Gino—like always—sat in his car, smoke wafting out from the windows. The cab was dimly lit, his cell phone likely illuminating it, and I ached to go outside.

"Hey…" I nudged Maggie.

She stared at the screen, slightly leaning toward me. "What?" She guzzled the rest of her wine.

"How much have you had?" I took the glass away from her, concerned. She drinks when no one is looking. Sonny doesn't know . . .

"This is my only glass," she slurred, lying, since she'd just taken a shot of Cuervo ten minutes ago when Baby shouted "Johnny" in that whiny voice.

I glanced at Mom and Alex. "Cool it. My best friend can't be a drunk."

She shoved a handful of popcorn into her mouth. "It helps me sleep…when Sonny's not home. And I'm not a drunk." She punched my shoulder. "They drink." She pointed to Mom and Alex.

"They're old," I whispered.

"Nobody puts Baby in the corner!" Mom and Alex shouted in unison, and then each took a shot of Cuervo.

Watching this is also a drinking game to them. At key—memorable—dialogue, they take a shot. "Kylie, you want some?" Mom offered me the bottle.

"I…" I stared at the bottle, and then to Maggie, 'cause I was just scolding her. "Okay." I winced, taking a large sip before passing it back, hating the burn it made sliding down.

"Pot, meet Kettle!" Maggie threw some popcorn at me.

"Huh?" Mom smiled.

"Nothing." Maggie and I said at the same time.

My mother grinned, turning back to the movie.

"I'm going outside—I need air," I whispered.

"Don't talk to him." Maggie had wide eyes. "You're going too far."

My stomach tied in knots. "But—"

"You have a great thing with Gio." She was absolutely correct. Lush or not, she spoke the truth. "You love Gio…no good can come of going outside."

"So, come with me. I just…I wanna say hi."

"They'll notice." She gestured to Mom and Alex. Then Maggie groaned, sitting up. "Just sleep over. You can stay in the bed with me…Sonny texted me. They're going to be late, after he said he'd be home early." She rolled her eyes. "Story of my life…but your bed is being delivered on Monday, which is perfect timing."

I'll be staying with them while my parents go away this week—to Bermuda or Miami—something beachy, I think. I begged them to take me, but it's not so romantic with me tagging along.

"Okay." I nodded, 'cause as soon as the movie's over, they'll probably leave . . . Unless they planned on watching Dirty Dancing: Havana Nights.

Sometimes, that follows.

"I think she gets this from me!" They shouted some dialogue, taking the last shot, but then they got up to dance again. "Come on!" Mom pulled on my hand. "You too!" She told Maggie.

My friend laughed, cuddled with a blanket on the couch. "I don't dance."

I smiled down to her after getting up. "You should learn. I can teach you."

Maggie laughed. "Like you taught me how to cook?"

"Hey." I put my hand on my hip. "Cooking is tricky business, but I know how to shake my ass." I turned to wiggle my butt in her face.

She giggled, swatting me away. "I have two left feet and no rhythm."

"Oh!" Alex stopped dancing, gaining all of our attentions. "I signed your mother up—"

"For what?" Mom asked.

"Pole-dancing lessons."

Mom almost choked on her soda—her chaser. "Pole-dancing? Like…?"

"Lap dancing, too. We have to do something. The holidays are over, and I know I've put on a few." She rubbed her stomach. "Zumba's getting boring . . . it was that or kickboxing, women's self-defense."

"Oh! Me!" I raised my hand, excited. "I wanna kickbox."

Maggie nodded. "That sounds cool."

Alex shook her head. "Wouldn't you rather learn to dance—all naughty-like—drive your Santino crazy?" She wiggled her brows.

"That reminds me." Maggie nudged my arm. "I signed us up for the coat drive at Saint Anselm."

"Oh my God! Not the coat drive." Mom palmed her cheeks. "You guys are rebels."

Alex laughed. "You two are adorable."

"I'm kidding," my mother said. "I do plenty of charity work." Likely to bargain my father's entrance into heaven.

"You signed us up to kiss your mom's ass?" I asked Maggie, but I figured fuck it. This time next year, we'll be up to our necks in studying, reading. Volunteering and taking classes that are fun will be really cool.

"No...I called Sister Tavia after dinner." My friend had wide eyes. "Santino said I could start—"

"Sister Tavia?" I asked in disbelief. "She's a nun." I wondered why she'd be calling her.

"We talk sometimes," Maggie whispered, looking up to me. "Before you, she was my best friend."

"The wacky nun from our church?" I giggled, but when Maggie frowned I felt bad. "I'm sorry."

She nodded. "It's okay. She is wacky, but she's really funny and easy to talk to."

"She is," my mother agreed. "But Sister Tavia isn't a priest or a lawyer," she sighed, sitting down next to Maggie.

"Oh!" My friend looked surprise. "We don't talk about anything that would warrant discretion."

"What?" I was confused.

"I trust you." Mom nodded. "Now that the movie's over, we can chat—if you wanted to. There was a lot of tension between you and Sonny, and then sneaking away…What did you argue about?"

Maggie grinned. "We, uh, didn't argue…if you know what I mean." She was getting better at keeping the drama wolves – Mom and Alex – at bay. Especially since she was lying. Maggie told me all about the almost-fight and the tongue action in the bathroom.

Lucky bitch.

My mother threw her head back and laughed. "You guys…youse remind me of Edward and myself, when we were first married. He wanted a baby so bad, and I kept saying no…until I came to the conclusion I wanted one just as badly."

Maggie cleared her throat, sitting up. "I'm on the fence—scared. And I already knew that. I figured you and Alex would understand my situation better than others given your pasts, but…" Her tone was lost to them, who were all smiles.

"I was young when I married Carlisle—he's older than me. And you know what? I can't even say my mindset was that much different at twenty-three—when I had Eddie—from when I was nineteen." Alex waved a hand. "You're scared at first, but once you have your baby…now that's love. Having Eddie, Ronald, and Blaze…those were the two happiest days of my life, not counting the day Anthony finally called me Mom." She was misty-eyed. "A wise woman once told me this." She nudged Mom. "As long as you're sure—and you trust Sonny, the rest . . . it always seems to fall into place. It's called having faith. I believe in God, and you're religious. You believe in something you can't see. Sonny's right in front of you. Place some faith in him."

"Wow…" Maggie sighed. "You're right."

"For what it's worth—" Mom took Maggie's hand "—I think you're a better woman than those twice your age—you're mature. You trust my son, which you should, and you hardly give him shit. You understand your husband, which is something…people married twenty years have a hard time doing. You guys will make it work."

"No, I do have faith." Maggie smiled. "I also trust him because he's never given me a reason not to—has always been straight, honest with me. I knew from the get-go that he'd be busy, that I wouldn't see him that often sometimes. It still stings, though. How do I cope with that?"

Mom grabbed Alex's hand and mine. "Friends. Those who have similar fears, those you can be honest with. You're bored now, but once you start going to school, or . . . If you decide you want to try for a child, you'll be busier." Mom slurred that last word, and I wondered how schnocked she was.

"She's right." I nodded. "You'll always have me."

"I know." She rested her head on my shoulder. "But Grandpa Ed…I could use more of you and less of him."

"You're a godsend, Maggie." Mom held her cheeks, leaning in to give her a smooch, and that's when I knew Mom was really drunk. She adores Maggie, but to land a loud wet one on the girl's lips? "You make Sonny so happy."

"I'm staying over tonight," I said.

Mom looked to her watch. "It is getting late. Sal's still out there with Gino, right? Or do I need to call him?"

I looked out the window again. "Yes . . ." Both cars were still parked by the curb.

Mom nodded. "I don't want you walking home alone in the morning. You call me, your father, or Vito, or have Sonny walk you—I don't care that it's around the corner."

I hung my head. "Is something going on?" They never tell me what, but I know something's up when there's heightened security. And Maggie has been on a tight leash . . .

"No, baby girl. We just worry." She pecked my cheek. "My girls . . . When they all left before, I thought we should have gone to a bar—"

"I would have gone." Instead, I lost ten bucks to my aunt during a round of rummy, ate two bowls of popcorn, and I felt gas coming on...

"Next time." She placed her arms around Maggie and me. "I love these nights—me and my girls. You, too!"

Alex twirled and humped the air like Johnny. "Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah…" she sang.

We ignored her.

"We're not seriously calling it a night this early?" Alex had wide eyes.

The look I gave Maggie was definitely conspiratorial.

They had to go.

My road dog yawned. "I'm exhausted—after today."

"Me, too." Mom nodded.

Five minutes later, they were placing their coats on. To my surprise, they left quickly when they usually linger. Mom and Alex entered Sal's car and then pulled away from the curb, and they were only going around the corner.

When my eyes met Gino's, I waved, calling him over.

He looked confused but marched up the walkway.

"Do you have a cigarette?" I asked.

He silently handed me one and then held out a lighter.

Me, having only tried a cigarette once in my life, leaned forward.

"It's best you don't inhale the first time," Gino said, smirking.

"I smoke all the time," I lied, blowing the smoke out the door, waving it away.

"Kylie…oh." Maggie stopped in the doorway, staring down to us. "Um."

"I'll be in in a minute," I told her, standing there with my cigarette, and I really felt cool . . . mature, and just a little bit stupid.

Maggie made eye contact with us both before turning.

"Did you wanna come in?" I asked, knowing he wasn't allowed.

"No!" Maggie shouted. "Sorry . . . he's—"

"I don't go inside," Gino told me. "I'll be in the car." He turned, going back down the walkway, and I couldn't for the life of me figure out why . . .

I started to follow him.

"Are you crazy?" Maggie pulled me back in, stealing the smoke from me. She tossed it into the street.

"What's your problem? Go have another drink, alkie." I nudged her away.

"What is your fascination with him?" she laughed. "He's handsome. So, what? Gio's hotter than he is."

She had to say his name.

"He's just…" I stared at Gino's car. "Gio's so…wholesome and sweet, and…"

"Those aren't bad things." She scolded. "He's also honest, he respects you, and he loves you so much. Don't go out there."

"I'm not going to do anything. I love Gio. I'd never—"

"I'm telling you." She closed her eyes, cringing. "You're not you when Gino's around. You get all stupid. That's dangerous. It doesn't matter what you say . . . sometimes things happen that we don't intend on happening."

"Dangerous." I snorted. "He works for my dad and Sonny. He won't hurt—"

"Joe worked for your dad, too." Yeah, I'd told her all about my ex-fiancé. "You almost blew it with Gio once. You fuck up again—" Maggie said fuck, which caught my attention "—he won't forgive you this time. Don't mistake Gio's kindness, his forgiveness, for weakness. He loves you so much…Don't put yourself in that position. It's stupid."

Her words pissed me off for some reason. "What do you know?" I whisper shouted. "You used to be fun, but now you're all . . . Hell. You're so worried about what I'm doing. What about your husband?"

She folded her arms across her chest. "What about him?"

"He's probably getting a lap dance—up to God knows what right now—" I gasped when she pushed me so hard, I almost fell off the step. "Bitch!" I punched her tit.

She groaned out in frustration, holding her boob. "You troll!"

I snorted. "Oh…a troll!" My eyes widened, wiggling my hands. "What's next? You'll call me a demon?" I made horns on my head with my fingers, sticking my tongue out.

"Oh, Kylie…do whatever you want." She looked exasperated. "Go fuck yourself, too."

I gasped in surprise, proud of her, and then I stood there ready, thinking she might take another swing at me since I hit her. But she actually straightened out—her face blank. It's not like I punched her hard, and I really wanted to apologize—doubtful that Sonny was doing anything bad.

"Watch your foot," she said.

"Why—" I looked down.

She slammed the door in my face.

"That wasn't funny!" I shouted.

Maggie turned off the porch light. "You want Gino so bad, go sit with him!" She gave me the finger through the window.

"Open the door," I grumbled, kicking rocks—that gravel shit by the hedges. "Come on."

The curtain didn't move. Maggie probably wasn't in the window anymore, so I turned for the street. It was dark—not to mention freezing—as I sprinted to Gino's car.

I knocked on the window. "Hi." I waved.

He brought it down, just looking at me.

"Can you give me a ride home?" I asked.

He bit his lower lip, staring at me with a hint of a smile. "I can call someone, but I'm not supposed to leave."

"I'm right around the corner. You know where I live." I didn't want to call my mom when I could actually walk the short distance. Yet, it was safer—I think—to ask Gino for a ride.

"Uh…" Gino looked into the street, and so did I. Someone was walking toward his car. "Gimme a second." He left the car, walking the few short paces to meet that person.

"Can I wait inside?" I asked, dancing from foot to foot, and he looked fuckhot in his leather coat and baggy jeans. Gino had such a sexy edge—a bad-boy vibe.

"I said gimme a sec." He sort of snapped.

I was taken aback by that.

All he had to do was press a button on his car remote, let me in. But as I stared down the street to Gino and the guy he was meeting, I smiled awkwardly. "Eddie?" I shouted, seeing my cousin. "What are you doing here? Sneaking out after dark?" I skipped over to them, happy.

Meanwhile, he's allowed to gallivant—roam the streets. It was such hypocritical bullshit—pissed me off.

"Why are you out this late?" my cousin asked.

"I could ask you the same thing. Your mom just left . . . Maggie's on the rag," I lied. "We fought."

He grinned. "What'd'ju do?"

"Why's it gotta be me?" I asked.

"'Cause it's always you." He slapped his hand to Gino's. They exchanged something—Eddie gave something and Gino gave something.

"What's that?" I pointed.

"Christ." Gino turned his body toward me. "I'll take you home—just mind yo' neck. Go wait by the whip." He stepped forward, making me walk backward.

It was intimidating to say the least.

"Dude." Li'l Ed grabbed my arm, pulling me away from him. "What's your problem? Don't step to her like that."

"She's got a big mouth—I'm around these two all day. She's sees something, and I get pinched? Nah, I don't think so." Gino shook his head. "I take orders from Sonny's old lady. No one said I had to babysit the princess."

"Princess?" I asked, narrowing my eyes. "Babysit? Me and you—we're the same age." I gestured between us. "Babysit, nothing." Confused, I looked to my cousin. "Um…Can you walk me home?"

Li'l Ed nodded. "Yeah."

Surprised, after hearing him speak for the first time ever, I looked to Gino. He was an asshole. Hot or not, he was . . . I don't know. I guess because he's Alex's cousin, I thought he'd be nice, especially since he's gorgeous. "Thanks for nothing," I told him.

"Look, you talk a li'l too much. Excuse me if I like to keep my business, my business."

Li'l Ed walked closer to Gino. "You shouldn't be talking to her at all. Aren't you supposed to be seen and not heard? A driver?"

"We all pay our dues, make our bones. You get into the family biz, Ed, you'll see. Then again, you're royalty." Gino smiled. "We're also family. I could son you right now, but I won't."

Li'l Ed snorted. "Get back in your car before I tell my cousin you're selling drugs in front of his house."

"You bought drugs?" I hit Eddie's shoulder.

"Selling drugs? I sold you the pot I had left over, you little fucker." Gino rolled his eyes. "You fucking little weirdo, trying to size me up because of your cousin no less. Why don't we pull our dicks out and see whose is bigger? Just…you get inside." He looked to me. "And you go home, before Mommy notices you're gone. And I shouldn't have to remind you to keep your mouth shut."

"My cousin's no rat. He just wanted you to step off." I scoffed, and I no longer had a crush on Gino, but curiosity got the better of me. "What is it?"

Gino put his hands up and then turned back for his car.

"Don't worry about it," Eddie said.

"Tell me." I reached for his hand.

He grabbed my arm, pulling me back onto Sonny's lawn. Surprisingly, Maggie had her head poked out the door.

"Now, you open up?"

"Just get in here. It's cold." She pulled her bathrobe tighter.

About to piss myself because I was freezing, I tiptoed into the foyer. "Come on." Eddie was still just standing there.

My cousin walked in like he owned the place. "Nice digs." The last time he was here, the house wasn't put together at all.

"Thank you," Maggie said.

"That's what you sleep in?" he asked her.

Maggie looked down to her flannel pants, her fluffy bathrobe.

"What kind of shit is that to ask her?" I pushed him.

He shrugged, not saying any more.

"Most of my sexy lingerie is in the hamper," Maggie said.

"Really?" Eddie asked.

"She's kidding." I rolled my eyes, and Maggie giggled. "I'm sorry."

"Me, too," she said.

"Go 'head." Li'l Eddie nudged me toward her. "Kiss and make up."

I groaned, showing him my fist. "What'd Gino give you?"

He huffed, dropping his shoulders. "Weed. It's no big deal."

"You do that?" I asked him.

"Sometimes." He shrugged.

I nodded, sidling up to him. "I wanna try it."

"You've never gotten baked before?" he asked, sounding surprised.

"No!" Maggie said. "That stuff stinks."

"We'll go in the backyard," I whispered. "Chill the fuck out."

"Look—" Ed pulled out a small baggie "—I'll give you enough for a joint, but I gotta get home before my mother."

"Your mom left fifteen minutes ago. She's gotta be home already," Maggie said.

"Shit." His leg bounced as he placed some weed into my palm. "I gotta go. That's a decent sized bud. You can make a fatty with that."

"Okay," I said.

Maggie walked him to the door, only to turn and shake her head at me.

"Oh my God. It's just pot," I whined and wiggled. "I won't bitch about you sneaking wine anymore."

"You act like I'm a drunk." She plopped down onto the couch. "Seriously."

"Maybe I exaggerated." I sat next to her. "Don't you wanna try it?" I sniffed it and scrunched my nose; it smelled like a skunk.

"I don't know." She seemed unsure.

"Jesus smoked weed and He drank wine!" I exclaimed.

"I've read that passage—where He turned water into wine and brooms into weed." She snorted. "Gimme a break."

"What's the big deal? Gio's done it and he doesn't do anything. He said he got giggly, tired and hungry, ate a sandwich, and then went to sleep." I nodded. "Nothing's gonna happen."

Maggie furrowed her brow.

"Come on! Do it with me," I begged.

She winced. "Okay, but only a little."

"They were all high on New Year's Eve. It can't be that bad, and if Sonny did it . . . He's so health-conscious."

Maggie gave me some look.

"What?"

"He eats healthy," she sighed, "exercises, but…my husband knows how to party. And just because he does something doesn't mean it's okay for me to do it—he said that."

"Ugh. What's good for the goose, you know? Smoking weed didn't kill him, or anyone on New Year's."

"Kylie, why's this—doing this—so important?" she asked, sounding like my mother.

I wanted to beat her with a pillow, but then she'd make me sleep on the snow-covered lawn. "Why does everything have to have a reason? We're home alone—this is your house. We can do whatever we want! But we can't invite boys over. My mother and aunt finished all the wine—unless you have a stash somewhere."

That bitch yawned. "I wanna go to bed."

"You're no fun." I cringed.

"You want a drink? There's a fully-stocked cabinet in Santino's study."

"I've been drunk before. I wanna get stoned . . ."

"Fine . . . I'll do it!" She threw a pillow at me. "God. You're so annoying sometimes."

"So are you!" I waved my fist. "Let's go look in Sonny's drawers for that paper stuff." I hopped up and went for the staircase.

Maggie chased after me. "Don't go through his things!"

"That's my brother," I said.

She held her forehead. "That's my husband, and I'm asking you to respect his privacy."

"It's not like I haven't seen the guns or the stacks of money before. Or, does he house a giant dildo for you in his sock drawer…for when you pull it out of your ass?" I laughed, running up the stairs.

Maggie was hot on my heels, followed me into their bedroom. "Kylie—"

"You look then." I pointed. "I won't touch anything." I turned, gently placing the weed on the nightstand.

No matter how discreet she was trying to be, opening drawers halfway and shit, I was still able to see things—looking over her shoulder. There were stacks of money, socks, underwear, gun, and a couple of medication bottles—

"What's all that? Is he sick?"

"No," she laughed. "They're different things—not even all medicine—but he doesn't take any of them."

I frowned. "Does he have a pill problem?"

"No," she said, slamming one closed. "Like this one." She showed me a bottle with what looked like dirt, dirty weed inside.

"What the hell is that?" I asked.

"Santino said they're magic mushrooms."

I gasped. "Shrooms. I've heard of those. Let's do that."

"No way!" she shouted, throwing it back in. "He said he's had these for a long, long time. He never threw them out. Who knows what would happen? If they're old?"

"What's in that?" I pointed to a small box.

"Nothing." Maggie wouldn't touch it.

"Tell me." I reached for it.

She almost closed my hand in the drawer. "Don't."

"Geez." I hissed. "I'm just saying…the paper might be in there."

"It's not," she said. "There's coke in there...I was supposed to flush it, but he'll notice it gone. I don't know."

"Cocaine?" I jumped up and down. "Wow."

She pushed me away from the chest of drawers. "We shouldn't even be looking in there."

"But look at all that stuff. Why does he have all that stuff?" I wondered.

"I don't know."

Nervous, I pursed my lips. "Um…Can I take some of the coke? Just…so Gio and me can try it when he comes home?"

"Fuck no!"

I jumped back, surprised by how loud she got.

"He'll notice—"

"No, he won't."

"He will," she insisted. "Promise me you won't touch that stuff."

"I'm just curious," I whispered.

"Well, when you see how much it changes someone…I know I'd never wanna do it." She pointed to herself. "The shrooms sounded cool when he explained what they did, though. What does it look like? The paper?"

"I dunno…small papers." I nodded. "I can call Damion. He doesn't judge, or Gio . . . He might know what to do."

"Gio might tell his dad."

I groaned, throwing myself back on their bed. "He does tell Uncle Aro everything. I really hate that." I leaned up on my elbows. "Oh, and Gino's an asshole. How can you be around him all the time?"

She crawled in next to me. "It's not about liking him . . . he just sits outside, drives me places."

"You miss Sonny a lot, huh?"

"Yeah." She turned her face away from me. "It's crazy and everything went so fast . . . All of this has been like a dream . . . and, I don't know. Sometimes I wish we were still at the apartment." She smiled.

"It's so run-down—my dad never remodeled that place, and there's all the dents in the wall."

"I know about the dents," she laughed, slamming her head into a pillow, inhaling. "This is Santino's pillow . . . it smells so good."

I scrunched my nose. "There's probably dried drool…"

"Kylie, he's never here." Her face crumbled, and she started to cry. "And sometimes, when he is here, he's…and I wish he wasn't here."

"Oh…" I rubbed her back, and I kind of knew how she felt. Just because I found Gino attractive, was curious about him, doesn't mean I don't miss my own boyfriend like crazy.

She sniffled. "I try not to get angry, but I always do. So, sometimes when he is home, I like…I lash out, and I hate myself for it because…what if he's just like, forget this, I'll never come home. Then, when he's different or high on that crap, I can't say anything. I'm afraid to, and that's when I wish he wasn't home."

"That is crap," I said. "If he does something, you give him hell. You can't let Sonny get away with anything, or else . . . My brother is like a child. You give an inch and he'll take a mile. But if you give him shit for something that pisses you off, he won't do it again." I nodded.

"I asked him to stay home tonight. He said no but then he said yes, and then he said he'd be home early." She took her phone out. "Now he's saying he got caught up at Dame's dorm, don't wait up."

"But I bet he buys you something nice—to make up for it." I smiled.

"I should throw all that crap on the lawn!"

"No. Give it all to me. That'll really piss him off," I lied.

Maggie started to laugh. "Liar."

I hummed, moving closer to snuggle—'cause we do that. She was the big spoon, and I was the little spoon. "Maybe—" I started and stopped, pulling the blanket on us. "I don't know. He went through all that stuff with Katie. Then he got his heart stomped on. He was so excited about the baby. I bet if you had one, he'd be home more—he wouldn't party at all. That makes sense."

"I was thinking the same thing, but that's not the right reason to have a baby."

"What's the right reason?" I asked, with general curiosity. "When I was with Joe, we were going to have a baby. Well, we were going to try right away."

"You wanted a baby?"

"I thought I did," I whispered. "I wanted the house, the cars, the money . . . basically everything you have now." I turned around to face her. "Your life is so glamorous—"

"Glamorous?" She started crying again. "I don't know where my husband is half the time. I drive myself crazy—trying to understand and keep up with everything. My life is literally and totally opposite than what it was. I can hardly keep up with school . . . I'm slacking. I'm eighteen, and I don't even know what I'm doing most of the time." She ranted. "Before, I'd never even seen coke, and now I'm worried half the time my husband's on another fucking bender! So, no. My life is not glamorous!" She shrieked at me. "You want what's in my closet? Take it all—"

"Whoa!" I held her biceps. "I'm sorry. Your life sucks. Okay? Feel better?"

She wouldn't look at me. "I didn't mean what I said . . . about the coke." She tried to backpedal, her chest still heaving.

"I thought you loved Sonny—"

"I do, more than anything, and that's why it hurts sometimes. He said we'd just be together . . . like we were, but thing's changed. I love Santino—my feelings for him, my God. I can't understand those either, and I don't regret marrying him, but . . . at the same time, I wasn't ready to get married. I'm also really happy most days. I go back and forth."

I tickled her side, trying to make her laugh. "A lot of it sounds like fear. My dad told me…never be afraid of fear or whatever. Be afraid of bears, or tigers, or—"

"Kylie." She had a tone. "So, you thought you wanted a baby with Joe. Do you want one now?" she asked.

"No . . . I dunno. If Gio wanted one, I'd have one for him."

"Do you think I'm selfish? I mean, I kind of just answered my own question. If I'm not ready for the marriage I'm already in . . . I'm not ready for a baby."

"I don't think you're selfish at all," I laughed. "A baby matures people faster, though."

"I'm just not sure. I want one and then I'm scared, 'cause . . ." she sighed. "Santino said we're having a few rough weeks. He said things'll go back to normal. I just need to ride it out," she spoke to herself. "I'm so immature. I'm supposed to cherish my vows—for better or for worse, 'til death do us part—and I'm all whiny."

"My brother loves you so much. My dad…sometimes he's busy and then other times he's not. I don't get it, so don't ask me, but Sonny being busy won't last forever."

She grinned. "I am being silly."

"You are . . . things will be fine. But you're lucky Sonny's giving you a choice."

"What do you mean?" She grimaced. "It's my body—"

"But Sonny's your husband." I sat up and back on my calves. "Like, when we were growing up and even now, my mom trumps my dad with rules. But if he wants or needs her to do something for him, she does it. And if she needed something, he'd do whatever . . . You know what I think?" I giggled, leaning my forehead to hers.

"What?" She grinned.

"You're due for another shot next month. Don't get it. You guys just continue to hump like bunnies, and it'll be a surprise." I nodded, getting really excited. "Oh my God. Do you know how happy he'd be?"

She beamed. "He would be . . . but that's deceitful. What if he got mad—"

"We should call Dame. He'd know. He knows Sonny better than anyone, and he can keep a secret."

She stopped me from dialing on my phone. "No offense, but I don't want Damion knowing my personal stuff. You wanna call about the weed, I don't care. Just don't talk about me to him."

"He's different now," I said. "Damion's not the same—"

"Maybe…maybe he's nice again. Though, like I said . . . no offense, but your brother is a chameleon. He changes—"

"He's not a snake!" I laughed. "I mean, he can be dishonest."

"Your dad's right—you better go to college."

"What?" I asked, placing my phone to my ear.

"Nothing," she whispered.

It was already going on eleven o'clock, and I hoped Damion would answer. He's probably at one of the clubs already—might not hear his phone.

"Hello?" he answered on the third ring.

"Hey!" My voice was squeaky, excited.

"What's going on?"

I didn't hear the loud music but horns honking in the background. "Where are you?"

"In the back of Eclipse—smoking a cigarette with Sonny."

"One of those funny cigarettes?" I smiled.

"Funny cigarettes…? Oh, no…just a cigarette." He sounded down, which was a contrast to his regular—newer behavior.

"Um…I need to ask you something." I looked to Maggie, a little nervous now. She was staring back, putting lotion on her feet.

"Okay….What?" He wasn't talking to me now. "Sonny wants to know what Maggie's doing?"

"She's putting lotion on her feet, and she's upset. You tell that motherfucker that when he says early, he better be home early. I mean it, Dame. You tell him that."

"Kylie!" Maggie scolded, but then listened closely—her ear against my phone, too.

"Kylie says she's fine, lotioning her feet or some bullshit."

"Damion!" I shouted.

"What did you wanna ask me?" He got down to business.

"If he gave a fuck, he'd call and ask her what's up himself." I nodded.

"Cut the bullshit."

I huffed. "Okay…we have weed and we wanna smoke it, but we don't have anything to put it in."

"You mean roll it?" he laughed.

"Whatever."

"You got rolling papers somewhere at your house, bro?" Damion asked Sonny.

"For who? Mom? Is she still there?"

"No, just Kylie and Maggie from the sound of it."

"What the hell are they doing?" Sonny asked.

"Kylie has weed—they wanna smoke it." I could picture my brother rolling his eyes. "Oh, tell Maggie to get out her bible. That paper rolls great—"

"Gimme the fuckin' phone . . . Hello?" It was Sonny now.

My stomach rolled and Maggie backed away from the phone, all wary-like. "Hi," I squeaked.

"Put Maggie on."

I held my cell phone out to her, and she shook her head. "Take it." I made it dance. "It's your San-ti-no!"

She gave me a lopsided grin, taking the phone from me. "Hey."

I waited anxiously, wondering if he'd be cool or a total ass—with Sonny it could go either way.

"Where is it?" Maggie's gaze met mine. "Oh, yeah…yeah, I remember seeing that . . . the hall closet." She smiled. "We can use that . . . ? Okay. How much water?" She turned around, likely for privacy. "Maybe I should write this down."

She grew quiet for a minute but never grabbed for a pen. "If it's boring, then why don't you come home? . . . It's not my intention to give you shit. I hope you're having a good time, but you're saying you're bored. You could come home. That's all . . . yeah, tomorrow's Sunday, but you're going to sleep all day. Or, to stay awake you'll do that stuff, and I hate it when you—" She pulled the phone away from her ear; it actually sounded like he yelled at her.

My girl shouted right back, though. "You're not even working—that's why I have a problem, and you've been seeing your grandfather every day, and if it was a real party, we'd all have been invited. You're up to no good, hyper. I can hear it in your voice—you did that stuff . . . I didn't call to fight with you. In fact, I didn't call you at all!" She ended the call, handing me my phone.

"Trouble in paradise?"

She cringed in place. "Let's get high—everyone else does."

"He has paper?"

She shook her head, leaving the bedroom.

I followed her to a closet, and then she pulled a medium-sized box out.

"What are we looking for?"

"A bong? Santino says…Aha!" It was at the top of the box, this green tube-like thing, and I'd seen one of those before. Sonny used to hide one under his bed when he lived at home.

"How…?" I stared at it, wondering where the weed went.

"We have to put water in it, and then the weed goes in the metal thing."

"But how do we get the weed into us?" I stared up to the ceiling, wishing I had a broader knowledge of things—any-fucking-thing.

My grandfather was right.

I am a goody-two-shoes.

"We could Google it…" Maggie hummed. "But I bet Gino knows how to use it."

"You said Gino's not allowed in the house."

Maggie laughed, an evil one, one I'd never heard from her. "Santino does things all the time he's not supposed to do."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

She got on her cell phone. "Hi, Gino? Can you come to the door? Thanks." She hung up.

"What's going on with Sonny? The truth?" I asked, having heard her say a bunch of jumbled crap tonight.

Maggie dropped her shoulders. "Your brother's been very busy lately . . . and he snorts coke to stay awake, keep up with things, and that stuff scares the shit out of me." She rambled. "You can't say anything to anyone. He'd . . . he'd be so pissed." She held her stomach. "Oh God...The things I tell you…it's between us. Right? I can't believe I told you. Kylie—"

"I won't repeat it," I whispered.

She stared down to her feet. "He hasn't done it in almost a week—he said he hasn't. And he was really calm today—cooking, being around the family."

"He snatched you out of your chair. That's calm?" That was hard to forget. "My brother has a temper, but thinking about it…and I know you embarrassed him. He went too far, though. Does he…um…" I didn't know the right question to ask, and I didn't think I wanted the answer. Sonny didn't mean it.

Maggie carried on, like I hadn't uttered a word. "I was actually able to talk to him today, even if I acted like a brat. So, that's why I really, really didn't want him to go out." She blew out a breath. "But I've seen him do it many times. When he does it all the time, he's really never home. When I know he's done it . . . I don't dare yell or fight 'cause…" She had tears in her eyes again. "I call you, and we do something. But then I know—it's back to the baby thing—I think that if I have one, he'll slow down."

I was more confused now than before. "What?"

"Nothing," she sighed. "You know he gets mad easy—snaps at people."

"He does," I said.

"God." She cried into her hands for a second.

"Maggie . . . please." It seemed like there was more going on than Sonny just being busy, doing a little coke. "Tell me . . . or if you can't talk to me, we'll call my mom."

"I'm being a baby." She went for the stairs, going down the steps to let Gino in.

"Wait." I stopped her from opening the door.

"Everything's fine." She smiled, her eyes watery, and the face she made . . . They may look nothing alike but she resembled my mother, because she was lying—smiling to cover the frown, faking it until she made it.

"I love you," I said, scared, not wanting her to leave Sonny. I'd lose her, too.

"I love you, too." She grinned, reaching for the door. "You sure you wanna do this?"

"Are you going to run away?" I turned to face her, keeping my back to the door, and I heard Gino lightly knocking.

"Run away?" Maggie shook her head.

"Leave Sonny."

"No!" she shouted. "No way. No, I could never. I'm just being a brat 'cause I miss him."

"Are you sure?" My heart broke in the oddest way. "You're younger than me . . ." And I couldn't imagine coping, living the way she has. On the surface, her life looks like my mother's, glamorous, yet there's a tremendous amount of heartache underneath—no matter how much they love their men.

Gio, Sonny, my parents—they all helped me dodge a bullet, as they kept me from marrying Joe.

But who was looking out for Maggie?

"I should have looked out for you better." Tears welled up in my eyes. "It was all in fun…and then you guys fell in love. I should have never left you alone with him."

"What?" Maggie held my hands.

Gino knocked again. "Ladies, everything okay?"

"Back up!" I barked at the door. "We'll call when we need something."

Maggie giggled at the door. "You got over that quick."

I shrugged and then sighed, staring at her. "I feel…"

"You've been an amazing friend." She palmed my cheek. "You're fun, nothing but honest, and you help me whenever I need you—"

"You, too." I sniffled. "And you keep me out of trouble."

Maggie hugged me tight. "I have faith . . . in my husband, and I love him more than I can explain. I can be bratty, but I'm okay . . . Kylie, I'm fine." She leaned away. "I don't regret marrying him—no matter what happens or how much we fight."

"Promise?" I asked.

"I swear," she giggled.

"Well . . . all right." I tried to shake all those feelings away.

Maggie opened the door, and Gino was still there—stood there expectantly. "Come in."

Gino shook his head. "You think I'm stupid?" That question was aimed at me since he's not allowed to speak to Maggie.

"Do you know how to use a bong?" Maggie asked.

"A what?" Gino faced her. "That's what you sleep in?"

Maggie and I faced each other, and then looked back to him.

"You are stupid," I commented. "Just tell us how to smoke out of it."

Gino chuckled. "Fine…where is it?" He closed the door behind himself.

"I'll get it." Maggie left us, running up the steps.

My gaze fell back on Gino.

And he wasn't that hot.

"What?" he asked.

I shook my head and stopped myself from insulting him.

Thank you for reading.

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