Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight. No copyright infringement is intended.
Beta'd by HollettLA
WARNING: THIS CHAPTER contains strong emotions and extreme actions which may be hard to read. Please remember my policy of no E/B cheating and HEA always. Know that everything I write, I write for a reason, and I do not take any of the issues portrayed in this chapter lightly. This is a significant chapter in Riders on the Storm, and these events will resonate as the story continues to unfold. If you have any reaction - negative or positive - and want to leave a review, sign in and tell me. Don't just flounce or hide behind anonymity.
Our author/reader relationship is important to me, and I want to know how YOU feel about my work and the emotions it evokes in you.
* To answer a few questions: Recent chapter titles have little reference to the locations. It's more about time, since this is still the same day as ch34 and ch35. For example, "Dinner"/ "Drama at Twilight" and now "Eclipse at Midnight" This chapter will conclude this crazy ass day.
* CH37, which will be Edward/Skip POV, will take place days/nearly a week after this chapter. Time is moving on ahead, albeit slowly. But it'll start to pick up. We have a lot of ground to cover.
*sigh* Lastly, there are two characters in this chapter named "Anthony". I've done my best to differentiate. So, readers won't get confused knowing who's Cousin Anthony (Carlisle's son, Ant) and the other character. Cousin Anthony is usually dubbed "Ant". Keep that in mind.
On with the show . . .
"Riders on the Storm"
Chapter Thirty-Six: Eclipse at Midnight
Sonny POV
It was close to ten when we arrived at Eclipse—finally getting there. Picking up Damion was a huge waste of time, all that talking. I wished he'd have gotten dressed right away.
We could've been in and out in ten minutes . . .
Scooping Ant from the brokerage took another twenty minutes . . .
And it sucked because I'd set a goal.
I was to be out of there by eleven, home by 11:30, possibly before my mother and all them left. I'd get extra points for coming home while Mom was still there. It'd prove just how early I was.
Nevertheless, whether I was leaving soon or not, I sent Maggie a text—letting her down, telling her I'd be late, because I more than likely will be.
Still, no matter the time, I promised myself two drinks and that was it.
I think I should stop making promises altogether. Even if, deep down, I mean them with my whole heart. Nowadays, promises have lost their meaning. My word . . . And that was incredibly heartbreaking.
Eclipse was filled to capacity tonight. Mike and Franco were running things. Fucking Aro was helping out, too, and I wanted no part in anything. As I made my way through the crowd, greeting people, Mike approached me—wanting to know this or that—and I held up my hands, walking away.
Shit was becoming too much.
Between Mike, Franco, and Aro they could come up with solutions…for whatever.
"Your father is looking for you," Nunzio said, sliding into the booth next to Ant—opposite Dame and me.
"Me or him?" I pointed to my brother.
"What do you think?" He sipped his drink.
I never said they had to be two alcoholic beverages, and guzzled some Pepsi down. I was trying my best to behave. I didn't want to go home the slightest bit drunk or high. If my word was no longer good enough, I had to start showing Maggie.
"I'll be back." When I left the booth, I noticed Damion following me. "It's probably business."
"I don't care . . . I stick with you and Dad, I stay outta trouble." His voice was a dull monotone.
"Get a dance." I gestured to the stage. "You used to love doing that."
Damion didn't say anything, and it seemed like he went back into silent-mode—not speaking and shit, the way he was before…The way he used to be before Amelia, before he had a pair of balls.
"Right." I spoke for the sake of doing so, going down the back corridor.
The door to the office was closed, but it wasn't locked, so I just let myself in. To my surprise, I saw Anthony Maisano—boss of the Maisanos out in Vegas—and his son Nicholas sitting across from my father.
Carlisle and Aro flanked Dad, standing to either side of him.
"Santino!" Anthony shouted, rising from his chair. "How you doin', son?"
I smiled, hugging him tightly and patting his back. "I'm great . . . What are you doing in New York?"
"Eh . . . Your gramps ain't getting' any younger," Anthony said. "He won't come out to my neck of the woods, although my pop sends his best."
"How's Junior doin' these days?" I asked, pulling up a chair, reaching out to shake Nicholas's hand. "Wassup?"
Nick smiled, looking over to Dame, the only unfamiliar face.
"My father's well—wacky in his old age, but I hear males do that." Anthony shared a glance with my father.
"Gentlemen, this is my youngest son, Damion." Dad introduced him, although he didn't inform Damion as to who Anthony and Nicholas were.
In other words, my father was letting our "cousins" know that my brother wasn't connected.
Dame was polite, shaking hands and whatnot.
"What's this I heard you got married?" Anthony faced me. "You get married in Vegas, basically in my backyard, and I wasn't even invited?"
I laughed. "It was a day trip."
"Still…"
"I told him," Dad said, pointing.
"Oh, it would'a been great." Anthony looked disappointed, giving a fleeting glance to Dame. "You married?"
Damion shook his head.
"Neither is this little fucker." Anthony shook his son's shoulder.
"Dame," Dad gained his attention. "Why don't you show Nicki around? Get him a drink, introduce him to Ant—your cousin?"
Damion nodded. "If you don't see you, it was a pleasure." He shook Anthony's hand, and then left with Nicholas.
"Fuckin' scary how much that kid looks like you," Anthony commented, staring at my father.
Dad laughed his ass off. "You should see baby girl—looks just like her mother."
"My TJ looks just like Gabby."
"How's TJ?" I asked.
Last I heard and saw, TJ was really running shit now. Kind of like how Dad took a step back and I stepped forward. And it must be awesome out there, all that space, the clubs, the casinos, and all the money—the fucking desert, where you can toss as many bodies wherever the fuck.
Truth be told, though, Vegas is an even smaller outfit than New Jersey. However, they hold their own for all the reasons I stated above—mad fucking money coming in and outta Vegas.
"He's great—doing well. He's got two kids now, two girls." He took out his phone. "Wanna see some pics?"
I nodded, leaning over to be polite.
Dad smiled, encouraging him to show us more photos of his family.
I wished they'd get down to business, why I was in here in the first place.
"I hate to interrupt—no disrespect—but I'm pressed for time," I said, looking over to my father.
He wasn't happy about that comment at all. "Oh, are we keeping you from something?"
"My wife." I was honest and faced Anthony. "I'm a newlywed…young wife, and I've been mad busy." I shrugged.
He winced. "She, uh, knowledgeable?"
"She's Irish," Dad said, and he didn't say it like it was a bad thing. His simple words expressed a lot without having to utter much else.
"Oh…Irish broads got some tempers, too." Anthony nodded. "I don't wanna keep you." He placed his hand on my shoulder, 'cause he's genuinely a nice-fucking-guy with no hidden agenda.
Dad sighed. "I need your blessing…my son needs to go out by you." That was news to me.
"The Skip—Cullen is asking me for a favor?" Maisano asked, looking proud.
My father grinned, shrugging his shoulders. "I'm sure I'll ask for another sometime soon. The missus and I plan to travel." He nodded. "Vegas is definitely a hot spot on the map. She's never been."
"Tell me when. Youse'll have it so good, your wife won't wanna leave," he laughed.
Dad clapped. "That sounds like a plan."
"Is there a problem with us going out there…for business?" Carlisle spoke up. "Technically, we don't need your permission, but with keepin' tradition—respect . . ." He trailed off.
My father turned to his brother, like he wanted to deck him. "What he means is . . . is because of our ties, our allegiance." That was a good save, although unnecessary. Carlisle was right.
Maisano widened his arms. "Whatever you need. I was under the impression I was here for a party . . ."
"I was just granted some very important information," Dad said. "Your presence—this new development, it's completely coincidental."
"I'm sure TJ and Santino can work it out." That was Maisano's way of bowing out of the conversation. I couldn't imagine why he would, though. If it wasn't safe to talk, Dad would have mentioned it.
"We can speak freely," Dad said. "I'd rather broker this, as you and I . . . We go back, just like our fathers before us." He trusts Maisano, not his sons.
"I'm all ears," Anthony said, sipping his drink.
"There's a person of interest…lives in Carson City. Santino and Aro would make sure it was taken care of . . . I need you to help with clean up…give my boys the lay of the land, hook 'em up with a few pieces if they fly out there...I don't think flying is wise, though." He briefly looked over to Aro.
Maisano raised a brow. "This person…"
"Not connected. Used to work here at the club...for me." He pointed to himself. "Planted a Fed, fucking did a broadcast."
"Whoa . . . Like I said, anything to help," Maisano agreed.
"Well…" Dad looked to the ceiling. "It won't be quick. They'll have to sit on this person a few days—check 'em out."
"You can give me the name. Save Santino and Aro the trip," Maisano said.
I'm sure my eyes pleaded as I stared at my father.
At this point in time, I needed to head out to Vegas like I needed a fucking hole in the head.
"It could get ugly," Dad said. "And I'd rather—I'd feel a lot better having them go out there. Plus, it's not like you—whoever helped—would go uncompensated. That goes without saying."
Maisano looked to me. "You've worked with TJ before. Nicholas…he's still wet behind the ears, but he's useful." I thought it was pretty fucking cool, him letting us utilize his kids like that. But that just shows the level of trust on both sides.
"I also need—now this is imperative, im-fucking-portant." Dad leaned in closer. "Sonny and Aro need to sneak in. They cannot be seen arriving or leaving Nevada. There will be no partying, no celebrating their presence, no special treatment."
Aro snorted. "Like a ninja mission and shit."
We all shared a laugh.
"Best way around that . . . Their aliases take a flight out West, they disguise themselves. They make it to Arizona, and I'll have a whip waiting for them—fully loaded with whatever they'd need. You call me beforehand with what they want...Plus, there will be prepaid cells available...that's how TJ and Nicki will contact them."
"Sounds good," Dad said. "Anything seems off, though, they pull out—we forget it happened or was going to happen for the time being. Youse are still paid for your time."
"Whatever works for you." Maisano shrugged.
"I'll make arrangements and contact you—probably before you leave New York. In fact, you should come to my house tomorrow night. My wife's a great cook, makes a large spread for Sunday dinners. It'll give us a chance to chill and catch up—no business."
Maisano smirked at my father. "How old is your daughter? You tryin'a set her up with my Nicky? Actually, that'd be wonderful—a great merge."
"Kylie has a boyfriend."
"She's with Giovanni—my baby," Aro said.
"Eh…can't blame a guy for trying." Anthony smiled at me.
"Good try," I admitted.
Maisano laughed, looking back to Dad. "We good? Can I go party with that old fuck before he blows a gasket?"
My father threw his head back and laughed. "Yes, please, have fun. Keep Ed busy."
Maisano shook my hand, bid farewell to the rest, and then left the office.
I waited until I heard the door close to open my mouth. "Why me?"
"Because I trust you," Dad said, which would be an honor to anyone else. I didn't know if I should think it a blessing or a curse—actually having my father's trust. Although I know in my heart that the Skip doesn't fully trust anybody; he can't. Maybe my mother . . .
"Who is this?"
"This chick Heidi—she's in WitSec." He sipped his scotch. "I don't care who does what—how you and Aro work it out. You heard my instruction, and I'll get back to you—when you're leaving." He wiped his hands clean. "It's simple."
I held my forehead, chuckling without humor. "On top of all the shit I got on my plate—"
"Then a week away will be like a vacation." He shrugged.
"A whole week?" I asked in disbelief.
"However long it'll take—"
"I can't just slip away for a week!" I exclaimed. "And if you think I'm keeping this a secret from my wife, you're outta your fuckin' mind!" Just bouncing would the final nail in my coffin.
"Watch it!" Carlisle spat.
"No, for real." I widened my arms, not giving a fuck about my father's wrath or whatever. I didn't care what he thought, or what he'd do. "I'm busting my ass, for you, so you don't fucking have to—"
"Enough." Dad's tone was soft. "Just stop talking. You don't see him complaining?" He jerked a thumb to Aro.
"But you don't know what you're asking me to do—"
Dad smiled. "The honeymoon's over. The missus is reaming you a new one for working too much? We've all gone through that shit. It comes with the territory."
"Sonny, there's always an adjustment period," Aro said. "She'll understand or learn to accept it, and this too shall pass. But you're doing so well—"
"I'm practically running six businesses by myself. Keeping books, bets, bookies, and sharks in line. Everyone is paying who has to, and everyone else is getting paid. I've done every single fucking thing you've asked me to do!" I stood up, making my chair fly back.
But I wasn't finished. "I've gone above and fucking beyond—beyond—to make up for the shit I did . . . And yet I hear I did you fucking favor in the long run? C-bag was talking to the Feds?!" I was livid, seeing red, not my father—I was unreasonable, no logic existed, because there was no pleasing this man.
"Delegate—"
I groaned. "If I hear that word one more fucking time!" I banged my fist down onto the desk. "You know better than I do. There's only so much others can do before shit gets mixed—fucked in some way. Too much cash is spread around, goes into too many hands, someone fucks up, gets pinched...Shit is too hot right now. We can't afford any more screw ups. You wanna run a sloppy ship? By all fucking means."
"Are you finished?" Dad asked, the picture of calm.
I bit my tongue, my lip to stop myself from smiling, only there was abso-fucking-lutely nothing to be happy about.
Yet, with Carlisle and Aro flanking my father, him sitting behind that desk, they were all in form—formal.
Me, being on the other side of the desk?
I had to wait, like an asshole—like some regular Joe-Schmo Schmuck—to be dismissed.
The Skip's always so concerned about respect, but this was the biggest slap in the face…treating me like a nobody.
Meanwhile, I couldn't even describe how I felt inside. Angry, pissed, just didn't seem to cover it. Honestly, I don't think I'd ever been this heated before in my life. Nope, not ever. I was vexed to the point of immobilization, afraid to move.
And my father's face was blank . . .
He's seen me struggling, saw—likely felt—all the animosity and tension between Maggie and me. He knows I'm holding on by a thread.
And he didn't look like he gave a fuck—not at all.
Not as my boss.
Not as my fucking father . . .
You'd think as my dad he'd care, pull me over to the side, and tell me something encouraging. And as my boss...Well, if I was him, and I saw how much I was doing, nearly floundering with it all, I'd show concern. I'd want to step in and help before there was some major fuck up.
He wants to see me fail.
He says he cares, but he doesn't give a flying fuck...the cold bastard.
"You can go." He held my gaze.
I didn't move . . .
I wasn't sure if I could move . . .
"Come on, my dude." Aro slapped his hand onto my shoulder. "Let's get a drink."
"I'm not thirsty." I cleared my throat, managing to place one foot in front of the other. Aro needed to get his fucking hands off me. "I'm cool." I shrugged him away, heading for the door.
"Sonny," my father called.
I kept my back to him.
"Turn around."
I whipped to him. "Yes?" I placed my hands in my pockets; they were shaking, and I didn't wanna seem weak...showing my temper even more.
"I have a few more people to sit with. Keep an eye on Dame." Dad placed his cell to his ear.
Without another word, I left the office, and if I had it my way, I'd be leaving Eclipse in less than sixty seconds. Not wanting to see anyone, I left out the back door—completely avoiding my grandfather and all those fucking guests—other family members from different states—who were only there to see what they could squeeze outta the Skip or vice versa. They weren't here to celebrate Ed Sr. at all. His presence was an excuse to convene—throw a huge bash—where mostly business would be conducted, which was why I had to be here.
Out the back exit, I just kept on going, not looking up, not giving a fuck . . .
"Calling it a night?"
I groaned, turning to Dame. "Yeah…I'm leaving. Have a good time." I bit that shit out through gritted teeth.
"Whoa…" He sprinted out to me. "What's the matter?"
"I can't tell you."
"Right." He held his lips. "Want a cigarette?" He tossed me one.
I threw it onto the ground because . . . I didn't want a cigarette.
I wanted something else.
Still aggravated and now . . . just fucking . . .
I stretched and cracked my neck, turning it each way, feeling an annoying tingle in my spine.
"You can talk to me."
I shook my head. "No, I can't." I basically couldn't talk to anyone. It's not that I don't trust Dame, I really do, but he's not even the slightest bit involved now.
"It can't be that bad," he said. "Things always come up rosy for you. I mean—"
"Shut up!" I snapped. "You're so . . . Stop worrying about what I have or what I do. For the last fucking time—and do yourself this favor—focus on yourself! Worry about Damion!"
He took a step back. "Sonny—"
"No, you wanna know the truth? It hurts. And your life is so simple, too. What the fuck, bro? Stop being such a pussy—" I bit my tongue again. "And I don't mean in the way," I chuckled, racking my brain, "pistol-whipping motherfuckers, throwing punches . . . The shit I do?" I pointed to myself. "That doesn't make you a man, or a tough guy. Just become a free-fucking-thinker! Be loyal to others, and most of all, to yourself. That's it."
"You don't know—"
"What don't I know?" I laughed. "Damion, you're in one of the best medical programs in the country. You dodged a loaded fucking gun breaking things off with Amelia, and with Dad telling you to back off—stay out the business. Things are looking up for you, you're happier, making leaps and bounds, and you met this cool chick who you can connect with . . . And you wanna know why? Because you haven't been around in a fucking month. What does that tell you?" I ranted. "Go—get the fuck away from here while you still can!"
He stared at me, lighting another cigarette. "You're right."
I huffed a breath. "Am I, though?" Ever since he's a kid, he believes in everything I say. Why? Who the fuck was I?
Damion opened his mouth to say more, but his phone rang from his pocket—that old song, Gangnam Style, blaring from it. "Kylie picked her own ringtone." He placed the phone to his ear. "Hello? . . . What's going on?"
I took the smoke away from him, inhaling deeply, hoping the nicotine did whatever the fuck it's supposed to do—its job.
"In the back of Eclipse—smoking a cigarette with Sonny."
That's when I remembered Kylie was at my crib, so I paid attention to their conversation.
"Funny cigarettes…? Oh, no…just a cigarette . . . Okay."
"What's going on?" I asked.
"What?" Dame furrowed his brow.
"What's my wife doing?" I sighed, wondering if she was plotting my death. Then I smiled to myself, 'cause it's always the quiet ones . . .
"Sonny wants to know what Maggie's doing?" There was a long pause, and I heard my sister bitching about something. "Kylie says she's fine. She's lotioning her feet or some shit."
"Cool." She already has the softest feet, I thought. And I love it when they're cold. She rubs them along my calves for warmth.
"What did you wanna ask me?" he asked her. "Cut the bullshit . . ." There was another pause. "You mean roll it?" he laughed, turning to hit my arm. "You got rolling papers somewhere at your house, bro?"
"For who? Mom? She's still there?" She's the only person who . . . Unless Kylie somehow got her hands on some pot. Then I wondered if they were going through my shit. The weed at my house isn't mine. It's Dad's, and I just haven't had the opportunity to give it to him or Mom. There were too many people at the crib earlier. But no. Even Maggie doesn't know about the loose brick in the basement, where I'm ironically hiding a brick of marijuana.
"No, just Kylie and Maggie from the sound of it."
"What the hell are they doing?" I laughed, wondering how out of it they were—how someone wouldn't know how to roll a joint . . . They manage to get weed, but they can't figure out how to smoke it? By now, I didn't know whether to think it funny or sad.
"Kylie has weed—they wanna smoke it." Damion rolled his eyes. "Oh, tell Maggie to get out her bible. That paper rolls great—"
"Gimme the fuckin' phone." I stole his cell away. "Hello?"
"Hi," Kylie said.
"Put Maggie on." No disrespect to my sister, but my wife was the smarter of the two, and my temper couldn't handle speaking to Kylie right now.
"Hey." My wife's tone was soft, somber.
"I'm so happy to hear your voice," I admitted. "I just . . ." I turned away from my brother, wanting to unload—speak to my wife—but then I decided against it. I'd lick my wounds and she can hold me together when I get home. "You guys having fun? Gonna smoke?" I disguised my voice best I could.
"Yeah," she whispered. "It wasn't my idea."
"No matter . . . just . . . have fun." I shrugged, knowing she needed to have some—more so than me. "I don't have any rolling papers." And I was sure they probably wouldn't be able to roll any-fucking-way. "There's a bong in the hall closet—the green thing."
"Where is it?"
"It's in a box—under the shelf with those old sheets. Remember?"
"Oh, yeah." She sounded happier. "Yeah, I remember seeing that in the hall closet. We can use that…?"
"Yeah, you put the weed in the metal pipe, and then light that like you would a cigarette—you hold the lighter to that—and you place your mouth in the top, that hole, and you suck the smoke out that way. But you need to add water—"
"Okay. How much water?" she asked.
"Just enough to fill the bowl—the glass bottom," I said, feeling myself calming down as we spoke about that dumb shit.
"Maybe I should write this down," she mumbled.
I sighed. "I wish I was there with you. I'd show you—smoke with you." Last time I offered her some, she refused to smoke, and yet she wanted to do it with Kylie. I was agitated and jealous again. It wasn't fair. "This shit is boring. I'm just here with my brother. I'm outside with Dame, away from the crowd—"
"If it's boring, then why don't you come home?"
"Please. I'll be home soon. Just don't—you know." I cringed, wanting to get off the phone. "Don't give me shit, bust my balls. I'll be home in—"
"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 . . ."
"I am...on my way." I gritted my teeth. "And tomorrow's Sunday—"
"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—"
"Shut the fuck up about that already!" My blood boiled. "Jesus Christ almighty. What's wrong with you? How many fucking times do we have to discuss it, huh?" I screamed at her.
"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 hung up on me.
"Bitch!" I threw the phone away from me. It hit the brick side of the building, crashing down into pieces. "That fucking bitch!" I balled my hands into fists, my body stiffening.
"Sonny!" Damion widened his arms, coming toward me. "What is wrong with you?"
I shook my head, sucking my upper lip into my mouth.
"That was my phone by the way. Mine," Damion said. "Swing at me if you want . . . but I can't imagine anything she said warranted that response. You were such a prick."
"Yeah, 'cause you think she's Saint Margaret," I laughed. "She's a ball-buster-and-a-half, and she drives me insane!" I cringed, stiffening.
"'Cause you love her." He rocked back on his heels. "If she didn't bust your balls . . . I mean, if she didn't care where you were or when you'd be home . . . It could be worse."
"Just don't get married," I said. "Pussy is exponentially better when it has no face. You hit it, and then you're ghost. You fill that need, get that release, and then you bounce. I had a system for how many fucking years? Never steered me wrong. Now…?" I had to stop grinding my teeth or else I'd crack a tooth.
"You don't mean that," he whispered.
"Right now? I do. Or, marry a woman you don't love. You have a nice home life, do what you want on the side, and she pops out kids when you want them . . . Maybe there's a method to that madness."
"You, um, you want me to get Dad?" he asked.
"Fuck no. If you can, keep that motherfucker away from me." I walked back to Eclipse.
"I thought you were leaving?"
"You thought wrong." I opened the door. "This is my club. I'mma have some fun."
"Sonny . . ." He furrowed his brow, staring at me.
"Would you like to join me?" I asked.
"I . . . all right." He took the door from me.
/=/=/=/=/=/
DAMION
/=/=/=/=/=/
My brother did own the place. He walked right in, demanded attention, and sat his big ass down at the main table—right in front of the stage. The women flocked to us, and we'd all put money in their g-strings.
Every time Sonny would do it, I'd cringe, though. It was just wrong—when my brother doesn't have a dishonest bone in his body. Maybe being with the strippers used to make him happy.
But no matter how they danced for him, swung from the pole, or smiled at him . . . He was fucking miserable.
Sonny needed to go home, and like all those times before . . . when he'd have my back, I was going to have his.
"I haven't seen Sonny with a harem in ages," Anthony—my cousin—said. We were getting along, and we hadn't uttered a word about Thanksgiving or the shit I did. Things weren't exactly back to normal yet, but we were speaking.
"Yeah…he's going through some shit. Can you get your dad?" I asked.
"My father?" He placed his hand on his chest. "Carlisle?"
"There's…Sonny and my dad…I don't know what's going on. Just…tell Carlisle to come out here, get those sluts away from my brother."
"Sluts? Look at you with the moral high ground." He chuckled.
"It's not—" I shook my head, and maybe I shouldn't give a fuck—let Sonny do whatever he wants—but I couldn't.
"I'll scoop my pops but you talk to him. I'm not playing telephone." Ant left the table.
I nodded, turning my attention back to my brother.
"What's your name?" Sonny asked the dancer in his lap.
"Bunny." She ran her hands around his neck and shoulders. And she was someone new they just had coming in for the night, because they needed more talent for the huge party.
"Well, why don't you hop on over there." Sonny tucked a c-note into my jacket. "This is my brother, Damion."
I leaned back, allowing Bunny—the platinum blond—access to grab the money. Then she started grinding on me, as she got down on her knees.
"This is like…being on a diet and being at a buffet," he said in my ear, and Bunny unzipped me.
"Whoa!" I stopped her.
"I gave her hundred bucks. Let her do her thing!" he shouted over the music. "It's on me."
"I'm good," I told Bunny.
She hopped back onto Sonny's lap, and he wasn't really crossing that line . . . that hazy, faded line that tossed him into Cheatersville yet.
"On a diet, at a buffet?" I asked.
My brother took something out of his pocket—a small, white bag—and then he emptied some coke onto Bunny's tit before he snorted it off.
My mouth made an "O" shape. It was like a train wreck, and I couldn't look away, and yet I wasn't sure if that line was crossed yet . . . but it went up Sonny's nose.
Sonny, my brother, was out of control, and I had no idea what had happened to him, or how to stop him.
"Woo!" He shook his head, sniffling. "You want?"
"Nah, I'm cool." I waved a hand. "You realize…you have a three course meal, from like…a five-star restaurant that you can eat at home, right?"
Maybe I had no room to talk because I'd technically cheated on Amelia. But Sonny was married. Amelia and I were on our last thread, all we needed to do was actually break up. I didn't feel guilty about what I did, but Sonny was gonna want to kill himself in the morning...if he continued down this path. I fucking knew it in my heart. Maybe once upon a time he dug all these women, but Sonny's loyal to a fault. He'd never do Maggie dirty in his right mind.
What happened to my brother? Where was Sonny? His body was here, but...
"Lose the buzzkill, baby." Bunny stared at me and rubbed Sonny over his slacks.
My brother grasped her wrists, which made her yelp in surprise. "Get off me," he told her. "Get the fuck off me!" Sonny picked her up and placed her on the stage.
Her wide eyes landed on me, and I bet she wondered what she'd done wrong . . . Bunny just went too far.
I nodded, tossing the last twenty I had over to her. "You did good." I winked as she scrambled away, collecting herself.
I had faith . . . I knew he'd come to his senses.
"What's going on?" Carlisle stood to my side.
Neither one of us said a word to him.
"Dude." Our uncle slapped his hand onto Sonny's shoulder. "He's testing you."
"God?" my brother laughed.
"Fuck no!" Carlisle shouted. "Your father. I'm telling you now . . . You need to slow your roll. I don't know what's up with you lately." He massaged Sonny's shoulders. "Chill out. There's only so many times you can shoot off with your mouth like that before he sons you. You feel me?"
"Sorry. Maggie just . . . she always says, um..." His face fell, and it didn't look like what Carlisle said was registering. He didn't give a fuck about that. I'm sure his head was full of all things Maggie.
"No, not your father," Carlisle continued. "Skip's testing you. Don't you realize that—God forbid anything happens—this is all yours? All of it—everything is yours, Sonny. He needs to know you can handle shit without him. That's why he's not offering you help. You need to come up with a solution—"
"I have to leave." Sonny stood up.
"No, stay—" Carlisle started, grasping his forearm. "A show's about to start in the private room—the big one."
"A show?" I'd never been here for a show before . . . and I had no more cash.
My brother sniffed some more shit off his pinky. "I can't stay." He pinched his nostrils, cleaning his nose.
"You sharing? Or you just greedy?" my uncle asked.
Sonny slapped the baggie of coke into his chest. "Knock yourself out."
"Bet." Carlisle wiggled a bill for a stripper's attention, and maybe he wasn't the best choice—to give my brother support or whatever. But he's another one who doesn't cross that line, gets a thrill and then goes home to his wife. "You staying?"
"I…" I looked around for Sonny, who was held up at the bar—Nunzio cornered him.
"Isn't that…? Oh, that's your little insurance policy." Carlisle pointed.
"My, what?" As I gazed around the dimly lit club, my eyes landed on my father. He had his arm around Dr. Cepeda—my teaching liaison, my dean.
"Damion!" my father shouted for me, calling me with his hand.
"Go!" Carlisle pushed me, and I scrambled to my feet—nervous as fuck.
It was my dean—the prestigious Dr. Cepeda, who could make or break my career. He told me . . . one more wrong move, and I was outta there. My grades, my performance were stellar. It was being tardy and being absent . . . not showing up when I was working for Dad, when I was acting like a lunatic . . . then I was in the hospital . . . I thought I was done. But being that I was in the hospital, Dr. Cepeda cut me some slack—talked to Dad—and I was granted one more chance.
"You know Kevin, right?" Dad asked, his arm still around him.
"Dr. Cepeda." I shook his hand, and I'd only spoken to him a select few times. "I hope you're having a good time."
His eyes followed some woman who passed us.
"Sweetheart!" Dad flagged her down, and she happily sidled up to him. "Kevin, this is my close, personal friend. I'd like you to meet..." He had no idea who she was.
"Brenda." The redhead smiled, introducing herself, while Dad whispered something in her ear. "A doctor? Wow."
"Well…" Dr. Cepeda—the middle-aged, fat and balding nerd—flushed crimson. That's all he was. He wasn't prestigious—maybe a genius with a good tenure plan, but pussy blinded him just like the other saps here.
"Weren't you just sayin' you didn't feel good?" Dad asked Brenda, sipping his drink, a troublemaking smirk lighting up his face. He wears that expression when he plays Devil's advocate.
She held her hand to her forehead. "I do feel feverish." And I bet she had the chills. She was as naked as the day she was born...tits and ass all out, and she had a fucking body and a half...and she wore hot pink stilettos.
I love pink stilettos.
They're so naughty, like hooker-wear or some shit, and yet they can be playful . . .
I shook my head and stared at her tits, afraid I was becoming a woman...because the pink shoes didn't go right with her flaming red hair.
If Jordan and I work shit out, I'm buying her a pair of those heels.
Trust.
She'd never wear them outside, but I'd keep them in my dorm.
"You look a little under the weather," Dad said. "Doesn't she?" He jerked a thumb to her.
Dr. Cepeda studied her, becoming a flustered mess. "I, uh—"
"Do I feel warm, doctor?" Brenda placed Dr. Cepeda's hand on her tit.
"Yes, uh, you feel—" He kneaded her breast, as she nestled into his side. "You sure know how to throw a great party," he told my father.
"Oh!" My father shouted, grabbed ahold of Aro. "Get a picture of us...me and my friends." They weren't his pals.
Dr. Cepeda, Brenda, and my father were all smiles for this photograph.
"Have a good time." Dad shook his hand. "Private Room Three is vacant." He sent them along on their way.
I blinked, watching the mismatched couple leave toward the back.
"And that—" Aro placed his arm around me "—is how we just guaranteed your place in that fucking program. It's gonna be awesome having a doctor in the family."
Dad gave Aro a high five. "Yeah, we had a talk—about you being offered a residency right there at NYU, too."
"Um." I shook my head. "I'm really—since we, you and me," I waved a finger "since we forgot about that deal, I was hoping to do my residency at Hopkins." Ever since Jordan brought it up, I've been learning toward surgery, too. The more I observe, spend time in the operating room, I find myself wanting it more and more. I just haven't figured out which surgical specialty.
Sonny was correct—NYU is one of the best schools, and they have a great surgical residency program.
But New York is filled with too many ghosts of my past, along with my family, and a million other things that can distract me.
Although Jordan hopes to stay right here, be offered a spot at NYU.
But I can't base my decision off what she does.
If I was at Hopkins, though, I'd be able to dedicate myself, only focus on that.
"Yeah, but you're already set at NYU. That's the most logical, simple path." Dad hit my shoulder and started laughing. "That fucker's married . . . we have pictures. He's about to get laid, and she's a pro . . . she's not just a stripper." He cackled. "You're golden, so yeah. You don't gotta go to school tomorrow. Have fun, but be home in the morning—I mean it. Mom misses you." He ranted all that out, patted my back, and then walked off with Aro.
I . . . I didn't know what to think, and I didn't even get the chance to say thank you. They disappeared into the office again with a few people I didn't know.
That was when I saw my grandfather—in tit heaven. Next to him sat Maisano and his son Nicholas, who my cousin Anthony was chatting up. The old guys were elbow-deep in women, while Anthony and Nicholas were . . . otherwise occupied.
"Huh…" I wasn't going to disturb what was going on over there.
And then Sonny walked by me . . .
"Hey." I grabbed his arm.
"I really gotta go." He was hyped up—no longer angry but very antsy.
"You checking out that show thing?" I scrunched my nose. "What is that?"
"Live lesbian porn." He patted my back. "Take pictures—"
"Seriously?" I shouted. "Grandpa's gonna miss that? I mean, lesbians…fucking? Naked? Live?" I spluttered.
If I could, I'd ask for lesbians for Christmas—two: a brunette and a blond, fucking under the tree. Shit don't work out with Jordan, and I'm still single, I know what I'll put on my list next year.
"Look at you—so cute, getting all excited. Go to the show, live a little, Dame." He shook his head. "It'll go on all night." Sonny turned from me again.
"Where are you going?" I asked.
"Home . . . I gotta . . . I gotta talk to Maggie—come clean."
"Whoa! Come clean about what?" I asked.
"Just…tonight. Nothing feels right. I—I—" He was all fucking torn up and agigtated. "What was I thinking?"
"You didn't do anything!" I shook him. "Don't tell her shit. Are you kidding? You're going to ruin everything 'cause a naked lady sat in your lap? Bro, that's fucking dumb. You didn't fuck her. You didn't even kiss her. You hardly touched her, and you did nothing wrong—nothing happened. If you tell Maggie, it'll only make you feel better...for like a second until she flips. Then..." I shrugged. "Don't tell her shit."
He licked his dry lips. "I need a drink. You need a drink?" he asked.
"Yeah." I nodded. "Let's have a drink." My arm wrapped around his shoulders, ushering him toward the bar. "We'll have a drink, check out this show, and I'll find you a Xanax or a Valium. Someone here has to have a downer—"
"I don't wanna see the show. I wanna go home. What's Maggie gonna do? She ain't gonna do nothin'. She's stuck with me. I'll eat shit for a week." He shrugged me off.
I growled, ready to lose my patience.
But when shit was really bad, did Sonny give up on me?
Well . . .
But that was after I'd taken advantage of him for nearly twenty-four years, my whole life.
And I really wanted to see this show . . .
Sonny had already made his way to the door, was bullshitting with Momo, and I really was happy—happy that Sonny couldn't walk five feet without someone demanding his attention. That's gotta be annoying.
Unfortunately, when I approached him this time, he almost took a swing at me. "If another fucking person—" He groaned. "I'm out."
I cringed. "Motherfucker." I really wanted to see that show, but I followed my brother out of Eclipse. "Wait!"
He was getting into a taxi, and I had to run to catch up to them.
"Why you following me?" Sonny asked. "Bay Ridge," he told the driver.
The man up front turned back to us. "I don't leave Manhattan. Sorry."
"Excuse me?" Sonny asked. "You can leave Manhattan for me." The look he gave the driver must have been menacing enough, or he recognized my brother, but he started fucking driving.
I relaxed back.
"I don't need a babysitter," Sonny said.
"Obviously, you do." I snorted. "Look at you." He even had fucking lipstick on his shirt. "Switch shirts with me." I started to unbutton my jacket.
"Why? Your shit'll be tight—"
"You got makeup on you!" I shouted. "Help me, help you." I repeated Sonny's words.
He grumbled, listening to me, and we exchanged our shirts in the back of the cab.
"You don't gotta do this. I understand, and I appreciate it—"
"I'm doing it for me," I lied, hitting his arm. "So, one time, I can say I helped you." I really did owe him. "She—Maggie chose you, bro...Out of everyone in the world, Maggie chose you, and she's fucking amazing. Don't fuck that up."
"Amazing." He scoffed.
"You're gonna tell me she's not?" I asked. "You're just lying to yourself. For whatever reason, you wanna stay pissed . . . I don't know. Dad fucked with your head somehow, but Unc said he's testing you . . . How many times have you told me? Don't let shit go to your dome. Acknowledge it, accept it, work it out the best you can, and keep your fucking nose clean."
He jerked his head, hissing out something I didn't get.
"What?" I asked.
"I'm more scared she'll know I'm high . . . not so much how I got there." His leg bounced. "I've been going for so long . . . Then all day, all fucking day there's something wrong. I worked, made dinner, was around the fam—I was chill but only to a certain extent. But I was buggin', my emotions everywhere, and then Dad has to..." He groaned, biting his fist and stiffening. "I fucking…I didn't do any blow…then I did…I feel guilty…but I feel right…and that's—that—"
"That's called addiction," I whispered. "You were jonesin' all day—"
"No," he said.
"How long you been…trying to keep up with it all? Since Christmas?"
"Before that." He nodded, doing a drum solo with his thumbs. "I have bags all over—hidden in some places."
"Tell me where…I'll get rid of them." I cleared my throat, my heart breaking for the second time today. "What about rehab? You go in for a month, nobody has to know, you'd come out healthier than ever—"
"What?" he laughed.
"The program works if you work it."
"Do you hear yourself?" He busted out laughing. "I just…I need to detox. I've done this before," he admitted.
"You have?"
He nodded. "Back in college, and then…for like a few months last year. I get carried away, it gets to be too much, and then I stop."
"But that's still a pattern. You'll relapse again—"
"You're not understanding me," he said, scratching the inside of his ear.
I put my hands up. "I only work in an emergency room—one of the busiest in New York City—I know an addict when I see one."
"Shut the fuck up with that! You sound like—"
"She called you on it, didn't she?" I laughed. "Maggie's on your ass about this, and that's why you're so defensive. The woman—likely the only woman you've ever loved—despises the only substance you love. You're being torn apart . . . like you're with two women. That's why you're mad at her. That's why you wanted to hurt Maggie, to spite her—"
He yoked me up by my collar, slamming me back against the door. "Keep her name out your mouth, and don't talk about things you know nothing about."
"You wanna pull over? Duke it out?" I didn't give a fuck, would rather he took it out on me than her when he got home.
"She just doesn't understand." He sat back, letting go of me. "If she knew—"
"If she knew how much you needed it, how much you hurt without it, she'd understand?" I asked, my stomach rolling with nausea.
I've spoken to so many people in the ER, so many people in the psych ward that were in there because of substance abuse, or people who were using drugs to mask psychiatric ailments . . . Because of them, I knew his mindset, the thinking of an addict. "Maggie would be okay with you snorting a little bit of coke each day?"
He shook his head, staring out the window. "I've done this before. I just need a few days. It'll be hell. My temper's even worse coming off than while on...I get irritable as fuck, and Maggie might leave me before the end of it, but I'll clean myself up. Then I can start putting the pieces back together."
"But it's always there—at Eclipse, Midnight Sun. It's readily available. Everyone does it, just not everyone has a problem with it. You do, and I'm urging you to recognize . . ." I narrowed my eyes. "I can't believe I spent so much time…being jealous of a fucking junkie?"
Saddened and disgusted didn't even cover how I felt right now. "You need to get your act together. If it's all yours when Dad's gone . . . Wait, it'll never be yours." I stared at him. "He'd sooner put a bullet in his junkie son, spare you and Mom the misery—fuck!" He punched me in my jaw. "Level with me, Sonny." I wiggled my jaw, tasting blood in my mouth.
"Level wit' you? Is that your way of saying you'll tell Dad? He knows the ass-end of a bender all-too-fucking well. Carlisle, too. It's hard—keeping up with everything."
"I'm in med school. You're gonna tell me what's hard? Let's see you get an A in Organic Chemistry . . . I bust my ass. Some days I'd look like I'd had my nose up a Smurf's ass—snorting Adderall and shit!" I ranted. "But we're human beings . . . We can only handle so much. And I bet your wife, who loves you so much, is going out of her mind—heartbroken—all because she's worried. I don't even wanna know how much shit is on her plate. It might not be much, but don't you remember being a teen? The smallest thing felt like the end of the world? And she's got like…ten big things, plus your big, junkie ass, and midterms? Her parents—are they even speaking to her? Oh, no. Last I heard you wanted to get her knocked up."
I shut my mouth and threw myself back into the seat, thinking and knowing I'd said too much. Meanwhile, I was pissed after laying it all out, disgusted that he'd do that to her . . . Maggie, an angel.
"Look, regardless, you're still the most accomplished, admirable man I know," I said.
"Don't put me on some pedestal," he spat. "That's how you get hurt. The way you're looking at me right now . . . You're disappointed. But you're not a little kid anymore—to see me as perfect."
That was a bitter pill to swallow, 'cause I still had this overall image of him . . .
"I bandaged your scraped knees, I hid you when times got tough, was there for you when Dad wasn't . . . but that was a long time ago. What have I done for you since?" he asked.
"More than I can name," I whispered. "You're so used to—on top of everything else you do, all your work—taking care of me, that you don't even realize you do it."
"You were in the hospital, I was in Vegas getting married—"
"I'm twenty-four years old. I couldn't deal—binge drank for days straight. I knew I was going to fall, one way or another. Good for you, you did something for yourself." I shrugged.
"I still . . . no matter what you did. No matter how much I love Maggie, I can't hate you, and I still feel horrible about that. I was angry, and you were going through some heavy shit."
"I was wrong—flat-out fucking wrong!" I shouted. "Are you kidding?" Sighing, I still couldn't make heads or tails of the whole Maggie thing. But I knew—in my heart—that I didn't want him to fuck up what he had with her.
"You take care of me, you take care of Mom, Kylie, Maggie—you even care for Dad—more than you know. The big Skip . . . He'd be a lot less than he is now without you. Since the day you were born, you made him a better person. Mom said that. And nowadays, you run his business to the best of your ability." I shook my head. "But I don't drink anymore. I liked it too much…It was an escape I couldn't handle. Just like you can't handle the shit you're doing now—spreading yourself so thin. I love you, Sonny. I won't let you—" I stopped, feeling a tear fall down my cheek. "Got me crying and shit . . . I just wanna go back to my dorm. Fuck!"
Sonny laughed which—in turn—made me chuckle as well. "I'd rather hide at the dorms with my big titty girlfriend, too."
"But you have Little Miss Sunshine in a mansion by the water," I said. "And she's not unfortunate..." I held my hands out by my chest. "A fucking eleven on a scale to ten."
Sonny didn't react; he let me get away with that comment and gesture. "Maggie's gorgeous, but that's besides the point." He nodded, staring down. "She's the best thing that ever happened to me—"
"Then learn to put her first—put yourself first."
"Right." He rasped, and he looked a lot calmer now as we got off the highway in Bay Ridge. Sonny leaned forward to give the guy his address, and then turned to me. "You can stay on the couch."
"Will…Maggie mind?"
"No, you're family," he said. "Just keep a respectable distance away from her."
I chuckled. "I'll try—kidding." I didn't even wait for him to give me a look. "Just try to act like you're not…you know. Avoid eye contact. Don't get into it tonight—not if Kylie's there."
"No, I can't. I hate arguing with Maggie while Kylie's there. She jumps right in. It's insane—then I have both them fighting me."
"Jordan has no siblings," I said.
"Maggie's parents are buggin'...they refuse to let her little sister come over. They think Maggie will be a bad influence."
"She has a sister?" That was news to me, but then I remembered our conversation from the night we'd met. "Yeah..." I couldn't believe I forgot, not like it matters.
"I'm not even allowed to talk about it. It upsets Maggie to no end. Maybe that's how I can make amends? Get that old fuck to let...Mary-Jo chill with Maggie?" Sonny nodded.
"Back to me..." I waited for a second to see if he'd cut me off. "I really like Jordan . . . I don't know what to do next, but…"
"Just take it easy." He hit my arm. "Back off and let her come to you. Let her digest . . . what happened. It's a lot to swallow . . . I can school you on women, but do you want her to come back 'cause she wants to, or because you fucked with her head?"
I wasn't too proud to ask this, "Does it make a difference?" I looked to him. "No matter what I do—we work together. She's a woman. She's going to be analyzing every step I take."
He pointed at me. "Very true . . . Tomorrow, we'll go to the store. I'll get you a new cell phone."
"Thanks."
His crib was just as huge as I remembered, only it was dark now, and the stars were out . . . shining brighlt above the house, lighting up the clear sky, along with the moon.
"Take her up to the roof—talk."
"The roof?" he asked.
"The moon . . . where it all began." I left the cab, waiting for him to pay the driver. I had no cash. The dancers at Eclipse got all my money, and I'm not loaded.
Sonny left the car, stretching out. "I'm not going to tell her anything. It'll only needlessly hurt her—and I didn't do anything."
"Exactly." I nodded. "But you need to slow your words . . . relax."
"Right." He blew out a breath, staring at the empty Honda parked outside. "Where's the kid Gino?"
"Maybe he's inside—"
My brother sprinted up the walkway like mad man, and I took off for him.
"Hold up!" I spread my arms in front of his door. "What if he's chillin' with Kylie? What if he's down the block getting a BJ? You don't know." I rushed out, and then I fell back onto my ass.
Maggie had opened the door. "You're home."
"Yeah," Sonny said. "I missed you."
I got off the floor, brushing my slacks off, and standing between them. "Don't mind me."
"I missed you, too," she replied, as Sonny walked around me.
They ignored my presence; they only had eyes for each other. Sonny's were dark, dilated, and wide, while Maggie's were happy? Squinted and slanted with her own haze.
"BOO!" Kylie hopped out and pinched my butt.
"Quit." I smacked her hand away.
"You're my Damion." She stuffed a sandwich into her mouth, linking her arm with mine.
"I'm your brother."
"No," she sighed. "You're my brother, but you're still mine . . ." And she was correct, to an extent. "Have you ever had bologna and cream cheese?" She chewed and held it up to me. "Want...?"
"No," I laughed, seeing Gino passed out on the couch. "What happened?"
"We used the-the," she laughed her ass off, "the thing, but then Gino had more, so we smoked a, a blunt. And then I got hungry." She shrugged, walking away from me.
Looking back to my brother, he was cool—smiling down to Maggie adoringly. Well, she was cute—all giggly and yet starry-eyed. They were good, though.
"I thought he was an asshole, but he's cool." Kylie hit Gino with a pillow. "He can't hang, though. He passed out. We painted his toes." She pointed, and Gino did indeed have red toenails.
"Go get a marker. We can give him a mustache," I said.
Kylie gasped, shoving her bologna sandwich into my hand.
"Uh…we're gonna check out the roof, but then we'll probably go to bed," Sonny said, his arms draped over Maggie. She had her back to him, fucking beaming...
"I'm cool. If anything, I'll walk over . . . I gotta see Mom in the morning."
"Thank you." He nodded. "You put a lot into perspective for me, and I…"
I made a hand gesture, silently indicating he slow his words.
Maggie furrowed her brow. "A snake! I wanna make hand puppets. Kylie!" she shouted. "Find a flashlight!"
"Hell yeah!" she hollered back from somewhere.
"No," Sonny laughed. "Christ. You're so cute." He leaned in for it.
Maggie squealed and pushed him away playfully.
Then he chased her up the stairs.
I sighed, getting comfortable on the couch—at a crossroads. Half of me wished I was with Jordan at the dorms, that things were cool, but this . . . the other half wished I was still at Eclipse . . . watching live lesbian porn.
Hey, Rome wasn't built in a day . . .
Just like you can lead the horse to water and all that . . .
But Sonny would try to do it all in one day, and I would drink the water . . .
Fuck me.
I should have studied philosophy.
"We have to take pictures and send them to Li'l Eddie." Kylie tossed markers at me.
"Why?" I asked.
"Just because . . . trust me." She took her sandwich back.
Thinking of Li'l Eddie . . . I thought about my phone, or lack thereof, wishing I had an olive branch to give my uncle. "Give me your cell."
Kylie handed hers right over.
"I'm going to ask Uncle Carlisle to email me some shit. Don't get nosy." Just like he could text the pictures of that live action, he can send them through gmail, too...maybe he'll even hook me up with a video.
He'd do it. There'd be no more beef, and all would be good.
"You have to tell me now," Kylie giggled, teeth full of cream cheese.
I chuckled. "You're a mess. From now on, just say no."
"Sonny has magic mushrooms." She was so high, I could probably sell her magic beans.
"Sonny has a lot of things . . . but never you mind." I finished my text to Carlisle.
"Damion, you're the smartest guy I know."
"Thanks." I took that as a compliment.
"So, I have to ask you something..."
"You're pregnant, and now you're full of pot?"
"No!" she laughed and then coughed, choking on her food. "Fuck. No, I'm not pregnant."
"Good." I nodded. "Ask away."
"Do you ever wonder what's beyond space?" She was serious.
"Outer space," I said.
"No." She waved a hand. "Beyond that . . . what's encasing space? Like, the space that's encasing the earth? There's just all this space out there . . . and, I mean, wow. I can't figure it out. I mean, why are we here? Do you think there's life on other planets?"
"Believe in God, don't get into science. You'll just confuse yourself."
She pouted. "You think I'm stupid."
"No, of course not. Keep talking—tell me what you think," I sighed, sitting back.
Thank you for reading.
Please leave me your thoughts.
NOTE: My beta, the amazing HollettLA, will be screening the reviews for this chapter. History always has a way of repeating itself...that goes for readers' reactions as well. LOL. Once shit hits the fan, some have a tendency to get bitchy and leave hurtful words. Shit will get worse before it gets better, but I ask that you have faith in me.
Keep the faith!
And thank you for reading.
Any hateful messages will be deleted by Lisa. I will NOT see them, so save yourself the trouble.
Curious about the Maisanos out in Vegas? They're characters from CaraNo's story, "Grand Tale" and its sequel "Grand Vendetta". I've recc'd it before, and if you haven't read it you're missing out. If you like Mobwards, check it out! Amazing stories.
Grand Tale by CaraNo - (Complete/in PDF format) * HOT MOBWARD * A week before Edward's wedding day, he has a passionate encounter with a dancer, Isabella.
caranofiction dot files dot wordpress dot com/2012/06/grand_tale dot pdf
Grand Vendetta by CaraNo - Sequel to Grand Tale. Years have passed, but Emmett can't let go of his doubts. Junior and Felix say the Cubans killed Carlisle, but that's not true, is it? Blood doesn't matter when disloyalty comes into play. "You'll go down with the Diamond, Maisano." (WIP/updates frequently)
Twilight - Rated: M - English - Crime/Family - Chapters: 12 - Words: 20,707 - Reviews: 1268 - Updated: 12-8-12 - Published: 11-17-12 - Edward & Bella
www dot fanfiction dot net/s/8710821/1/Grand-Vendetta