Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight. No copyright infringement is intended.
Beta'd by HollettLA.
WOW! Your reviews for chapter ten totally blew me away. Thank you so much for all your kinds words of encouragement! This is part one of a two-parter, it's on the lighter side, something to help you all digest chapter 10. Part Two will be posted on Wednesday . . . and that's when it'll get heavy :-)we'll learn more about Dame . ..
Enjoy!
THANK YOU!
"Riders on the Storm"
Chapter Eleven: Change of Pace Part One
Damion POV
Within a weekend's time frame, this house was turned upside down—a far cry from the way things were last week.
Sonny's life was now different as night and day. Whether they get married or not, he's going to be a father, which means he has to settle down. Everything is still up in the air, but it was obvious that their happy ending was now in sight.
When they were outside, Dad heard them shouting and was about to go out there before Mom stopped him. Apparently, this "had to happen". Their argument, although we had no idea what it was about at first, had to play out.
We're all nosy fuckers who studied their every move, scrutinized every word. Sonny made some great points, but then Katie did, too. They have love, but they haven't been together in so long. Nowadays, they're two totally different people. I know they met up to fuck on occasion, but they haven't spent any real time together during the past seven years.
And seven years . . . that's a long fucking time.
Did they even know each other anymore? Or were they holding on to this idea of their love?
I bet Sonny takes the bar exam now . . . grows-the-fuck up and leaves Eclipse behind. But I wondered how long he'd be able to keep that up . . . Like I said, Katie made a few good points.
My guess is that she's afraid of turning into my mother, or worse, her own.
They have love and a shitload to work on; however, I was sure they'd be okay . . . in the long run.
I might be a cynical prick, but I'll give Sonny a year—of being home all the time, working a real nine-to-five, changing diapers, and just being on the up-and-up—or pretending like he is.
All that shit's gotta be hard to walk away from. I know it'll be difficult for me, the little bit I am involved, which just includes chillin' at the clubs some nights—and that other shit that I'm trying to push out my mind.
I do wish them the best, though.
Fingers crossed . . .
An hour ago, when Aro showed up, he was informed—seemed a bit shocked at first, and then he stunned us all by pulling Sonny into this tight embrace.
My mother can't control her tears. She just keeps crying—stating they're happy tears. Sure, finding out you're about to be a grandparent is surprising. I guess the circumstances . . . I don't even know. I do know that the whole situation will work out.
Combined, the decisions my siblings have made, although big and small, have altered this family as a whole—it's a huge contrast compared to the way things were.
It baffled me how one weekend, a not-even-forty-eight-hour stint, could be so powerful—significant.
The only person to remain unfazed was me. Deep down, I'd experienced a multitude of emotions. This weekend, I'd been: happy, sad, excited, ashamed, and reproachful. But mostly, I was ashamed and mortified at myself—no matter how I tried to hide it. That shit with Alex really fucked with my head.
Did I really do all that? I know I did and I was apologetic, but…
Believe it or not, although Dad didn't know the whole story and didn't give me any concrete advice, just talking—brushing up on the subject with him was cathartic in a way. I felt a little bit better—to have bared my sins—but the relief was minimal.
Despite that whole clusterfuck with Sonny and Katie, most of us managed to sit and eat—we had dinner while they went into his room to "talk". Knowing my brother, they spoke for five minutes before they started fucking. That's beside the point, but true.
In fact, I was still at the table—wishing and hoping I'd get a moment alone with Alex somehow before they left. My father, Aro, and Carlisle had all excused themselves to his office. Laughter and voices keep sounding down the hall, so they must be fine with how things panned out.
My mother and Alex were cleaning up—going between the dining room and the kitchen.
I don't know where that fucker Peto is, not that I give a fuck, but he's probably drooling over my sister somewhere . . . happy the attention isn't on him anymore.
Amelia—who I haven't spoken a single word to—is still sitting, playing on her cell phone.
I knew I was being a rude fuck, but my cell proved to be something to occupy my mind as well. I played Angry Birds, stuffed my face, and ignored call after call from an unknown number. It wasn't blocked. I just didn't recognize it, and the person refused to leave a message.
"What level are you up to?" Amelia asked. "I can hear the slingshot."
That made me crack a grin. "Um, I'm at fourteen-three."
She was a fucking knockout and a half, in painted-on jeans and an equally fitted shirt. Those boots—I love boots, and I'd love them even more on either side of my ears. I'd hold her ankles straight up in the air, yet pull her legs apart to expose her—so I could see all of her.
Amelia had a gorgeous face, and I hated that I was this stuck—that I didn't know how to act around her. She made me nervous.
She had these high cheekbones, and yet her cheeks were on the chubby side. I wanted to bite them. Her teeth were perfect, too. Her lips—fuck—she had sweetheart lips; meanwhile, they were thin despite being full.
Never in my life had I seen a chick as pretty, as perfect, as this one.
I didn't have a snowball's chance in hell, but such is life.
She seemed go with the flow—didn't run away when shit got hot earlier.
I bet we look like a bunch of nut jobs to her.
Speaking of, I thought about Maggie a lot today. When I first woke up, I thought I'd dreamed her—made her up, that I was walking around and sitting in the grass with a figment of my imagination—an angel.
There was no way we could evolve, be more than whatever that was last night, but that didn't stop me from wanting to see her.
I really just wanted to kiss her—be her first kiss.
I bet without the alcohol freeing her inhibitions, she'd slap me.
Last night, she resembled a woman. At the moment, if memory serves me right, she was more of a girl. . . innocence shining and all, regardless of if she had a body.
Maggie was too young for me, but she was another fuckhot female to haunt me nonetheless.
Between Bianca, Maggie, and now Amelia, I had an array of images stored in the spank bank.
I highly doubted I'd be masturbating to Alex any time soon.
"How's school going for you?" Amelia whispered.
"Well . . . so far so good. Thank you for asking." I decided to try that gentleman shit again. Sober, I could keep up with it and not let my impulses get the better of me.
"Mom?" Kylie caught up with our mother just as she grabbed the salt from the table.
"Yeah, baby?" Mom filled her arms with random things.
I stood up to help at the same time Amelia did. "Sit," I blurted.
Amelia did as I said, handing me her water glass, which was pretty fucking cool.
What other commands would she obey?
"Since it's still early . . . Gio was talking about going to the movies. Would that be okay?" Kylie asked.
I felt bad that she had to do so as I entered the kitchen. With Kylie and Mom speaking in the dining room, that left Alex at the sink—cleaning what didn't fit in the dishwasher.
It was weird because she knew I was there. As soon as I stepped into the room, she stiffened and briefly glanced back to me.
"Hey…" I placed the glass and my plate in the sink.
"Just don't." She continued to wash, her hands full of suds.
"I know you won't believe me, but I'm sorry—truly sorry." I gulped, my heart hammering away. "I don't know what happened." I gently pulled on her sleeve to get her to look at me.
Alex refused, or couldn't. "Please don't touch me." Her voice wasn't above a whisper. She thought she was slick, too—gripping a steak knife in her hand, like I was going to do something.
How fucking dramatic? I thought.
All of them, every-fucking-one of them with the theatrics . . .
Someone should have sent Kylie for violin lessons. We would have background music.
Before with Sonny and Katie, too. That shit didn't have to blow up the way it did, and what did Alex think I was going to do? Throw her down and fuck her on my mother's kitchen floor? Sure, things got crazy last night, but did she truly fear me? I found that hard to believe—her trying to be this victim.
"Put that down." My hand softly ran along her forearm, giving her hand a squeeze. "Let it go." Voice stern as fuck, that still didn't stop me from sniffing her hair. She uses Pantene and I love that shit—I use it, too.
Alex dropped the sponge and the knife, backing away from the sink. "I'm not doing this—not here, not now."
"I need you to believe how sorry I am." Only, this little scene—her with the knife—confused me. I wasn't sure if I should be beating myself up the way I had been.
Fuck it, right?
"Somehow . . . I can't." She shrugged, turning and leaving the room.
My head whipped back and forth, trying to gauge the amount of time I'd have to catch up to her. But in the long run, I just let her go—I didn't want to scare her any more than I had.
I'll be sure to stop by during the week, when we can really talk. My uncle won't be there. It won't be questionable because it'll be light out.
I'll bring her some flowers…
When I saw their shadows and heard their voices get louder, I turned to the sink, picked up where Alex left off.
"Thank you, baby." Mom kissed my cheek.
I smirked, continuing to wash the plate.
"Suck-up." Kylie hit my arm.
I didn't acknowledge them, content to do the menial task.
But I'm a suck-up for washing a fucking plate? Kylie is such a goddamn brat.
My hands slowed as more people entered the kitchen. With my back to all of them, I heard Carlisle and Alex leave. Aro was going with Katie and Sonny—they were going to sit Raul down—while they all had a chat. That was when I wanted to turn around. I wanted to say that I'd go along, too—have Sonny's back just in case, be there for moral support—but he truly didn't need me there.
Mom made a comment that no one else was supposed to hear, but I did. She said it was good that Dad wasn't going along, and I knew what she meant.
Aro would keep everyone calm, but Dad might inadvertently escalate the situation—lean on Raul a bit if he stepped out of line or insulted Sonny. He wouldn't mean to. It would just happen. And I can't imagine how tensions wouldn't be high—telling Raul his wife's baby is Sonny's.
Jesus.
This fucking family sometimes . . .
"So…can one of you call Vito?" Kylie was the last person standing besides my parents and I, and I'm pretty sure they forgot all about Amelia in the dining room. "Or…can Gio borrow your car? He left his in Texas, obviously."
My father laughed at her.
"He's a really good driver—"
Dad composed himself. "I shouldn't let you go anywhere after last night."
"Edward." Mom.
"I'm gonna be nineteen in—"
"I know how old you are. Your age isn't the point. You couldn't call, send a text—nothing to let us know you were all right?" Whether Dad was upset with her or not, he hugged her to his side.
My sister looked like she was on the verge of throwing a tantrum, yet trying to stay calm—placate our father. It was a smart move. "The movie starts in a hour and a half, but we should get there early—opening weekend. We'll go, see the movie, drop Gio off at—" She looked around. "It might be weird at Katie's . . . She might end up at Sonny's anyway. Can he stay over?" She smiled sweetly.
Dad threw his head back and laughed, his humor contagious as I also had a chuckle. "He can stay at his father's house." Dad shrugged. "Peto has like three places to stay…but this house isn't one of them."
"Edward." Mom had a tone. "What he means is…we'd never let Peto sleep on the street or whatever. But he does have places to stay, and I'm sure his father would love to spend some time with him, too—"
"But he's leaving tomorrow night." Kylie stomped her foot. "And I won't get to see him until—"
"Thanksgiving? That's next month." Dad left the embrace to open the fridge. "We having dessert, or…?" He looked to my mother.
"Mom!" Kylie demanded her attention as well, but she looked to me.
Mom took slow steps toward me with this goofy grin. "Why don't you drive them?" She wrapped her arms around my arm, resting her head on my shoulder. "You can take Amelia," she whispered. "Like a double date."
Kylie gasped. "That'd be better than Vito—having some old guy tag us." She knew I'd just drop them off and not give a fuck. I'd make sure she was safe, but they suffocate Kylie, too—I sympathize, and therefore give her space.
"That's not a bad idea." Dad placed a bakery box on the counter.
I shrugged, reaching for the dishrag to dry my hands.
"Go ask her," Mom urged.
"What are we going to see?" I asked.
"The new Zac Efron movie? It's supposed to be action-packed—Gio says it's gonna be good." Kylie had stars in her eyes.
"She told me she thought you were really handsome." Mom whispered, pushing my hair back, while I looked down to my clothes. After I showered, I put jeans and a sweater on—nothing special—but then how dressed up did I need to be for the movies?
"Yeah…okay." A girl like Amelia would never—I'd never have a shot. Then I thought about shots—taking a few.
For a couple of minutes last night, I was charismatic.
I'm driving.
Fuck.
"Well, you are—my handsome boy." Mom pinched my cheek. "Please ask her? For me?"
I thought about it.
"At least talk to her." She suddenly looked exasperated. "She's interested, I promise."
Dad raised a brow, bringing a glass of wine to his lips. "Go for it," he said. "You have nothing to lose . . . Or," he smirked, looking around, "do whatever you usually do. You got this either way." He took a few steps toward me to bring his voice down. "I know you don't work for pussy—don't start now."
I laughed, giving him a fist pound.
Little does he know it's because I am shy.
"Edward!" Mom slapped his bicep, and then stared up at me. "Go talk to her. Work for it." She nodded a little too eagerly.
"You guys are so gross." Kylie truly did look like she was about to vomit.
I opened my mouth to respond when Amelia appeared in the doorway.
Jesus Christ.
She's beautiful. The full sight of her—not like those peeks through my periphery at the table—made my stomach fill with butterflies.
"Sorry. It was getting lonely in there." She jerked a thumb, meeting my gaze before putting her head down.
"Hey…" Kylie sidled up to her, which meant she had my sister's approval along with my mother's. "Gio and I—we're going to the movies. Dame's coming, too. Did you wanna join us?"
Amelia's eyes landed on me. "Oh, well, um—"
Mom pinched my forearm so hard, I nearly jumped out of my skin. "I'd appreciate the company." I spoke up. "I have to drive them." I smiled, while Mom continued to dig her nails into my arm—now she was excited.
"Pietro's been waiting…" She trailed off, talking about her driver. I met him briefly when I went outside to smoke a cigarette. He asked me if everything was okay, having witnessed the whole Katie/Sonny debacle.
"If he has some place to be…we'll get you home—have someone drive you." Dad had a mouthful of chocolate cake. "I'll call your father."
And I felt horrible, that everyone was putting so much pressure on Amelia. It was obvious the problem was me—not her ride home. I wished I'd spoken to her during dinner, or at least brushed my hand someplace on her body while I passed the au gratin.
The latter is more my style.
"It's fine." Amelia waved it off. "I'd love to join you."
"Excellent." Kylie hugged her, which surprised Amelia.
"Oh…Okay." She patted my sister's arm.
I internally groaned, thinking about sitting through a two-hour movie, and wanting to go to sleep.
Before, I couldn't wait for everyone to leave. I'll be going back to campus tomorrow, and then it's back to the grind. Plus, all day I had this lingering headache—one that Advil, weed, and a small amount of alcohol couldn't cure—that was from much earlier. "Whose car am I taking?"
"Mine." Mom rummaged through her purse, and I saw she had some Motrin. "You guys will have room." She jiggled the keys.
I took them from her. "Uh, let me get two of those." I pursed my lips to the ibuprofen.
She took two out of the bottle, and I tossed them back dry. "I'll be outside. Let me know when you guys are ready." Everything was in my pocket, and I didn't need a jacket with the sweater.
Dad followed after me, all the way down to the garage. Since he usually wouldn't do that, I figured he wanted to chat. I felt his eyes on the back of my head the whole time, too. Fuck.
"I'll keep an eye on her. No worries," I said, lighting a cigarette.
He opened the large garage door. "I know you'd die for her…"
"Always with the drama…Who's dying?"
"I'm just saying."
I gave him a slight nod, taking a drag. When the door was fully opened, I stood in it—looking up to the moon.
It was just as beautiful as last night—clear skies and all.
"Your brother told me to give this to you." He handed me a piece of paper.
I slowly opened it. "What is it?" The lettering was all bubbled, hearts on the "I"s, and some doodles.
"It's a love note from your little boo-boo." Dad smiled. "It's cute."
"You read it?" I asked, not surprised. If I need a small lesson in boundaries, my father needs a semester's worth of classes on that shit.
He nodded. "Do I have to tell you to stay away from her? This won't be an argument, will it?"
I shook my head. "Nope."
He grimaced. "Why do you say it like that? Nopee…"
I shrugged, having no idea what he was talking about. "Why do you and everyone else pick on me?" It kind of just flew out of my mouth. "Even the small things."
"Oh, come on. No one means anything with the crap they say—the teasing. You know we all love you."
"Right." I snorted.
"Let her down gently." He tapped the paper.
My lips drew a tight line. "It wasn't anything like that. We just chilled." I folded it back up. "For real . . . We didn't kiss—nothing," I lied.
The whole experience will be stored away for later usage, only . . . I'd insert Amelia where Maggie was. Amelia's prettier—no need to lie about that—and thinking about Amelia would insure that I wouldn't go after Maggie.
"I also don't—shouldn't have to tell you to behave yourself." He stared me down. "She's Luke's daughter. This goes bad—" He whistled. "I don't even wanna think about it. If you have no interest in actually dating her, don't even bother with a kiss. Things are screwy with broads—shit that don't mean nothing to us, sometimes mean a lot more to them; they read into things. Bottom line, you're to be a gentleman."
I nodded. "Of course."
"If you two hit it off, though." He smiled. "That'd mean a lot—business-wise. But don't think about that just yet." He placed his arm over my shoulders. "I didn't get married until I was twenty-five, but I dated. You haven't done shit. You need to live—"
"Dated?" I remember he said some bullshit about that before.
"Yeah, whatever. Gimme a stoge." I handed him my pack of cigarettes and stood silent while he lit one. "I know you wanna get married—is it so you can have a steady piece of ass?" he spluttered, finding it amusing. "Lemme tell you a secret. Your uncle and I got lucky—with your mother and Alex—they're little sexpots. I heard that about your aunt anyway, but I know 'bout Mom." It was weird that he brought Alex up in the conversation. He hardly ever speaks of her. "But from what I hear, most people had more sex while they were single."
I had no reply to that, because settling down to me meant a lot more than just sex. A meaningful connection, finding out what the love hoopla was about—that's the shit I want. Everyone I've ever known who's been in love was extremely happy—I wanted that. I'm content now, but I wanted all of that—and I can barely explain what love means. I know it's a feeling—one I yearn for.
"I swore I'd never get married." He pulled from the smoke. "Things change when you meet that special one. Meeting your mother—that shit shocked me for the better . . . I hope you find her—it'd be amazing if it turned out to be Amelia. You know? New York and New Jersey, getting together, sort of merging." His last sentence was rushed, like an afterthought.
"Who'd benefit more?" I asked, plain and simple.
"I'm unofficial boss of both states. He'd likely reap from that, but there's many perks for me as well—more money, more bodies at our disposal, and so on. The chances of us going to war again would be close to zero. But I'm not supposed to be discussing this with you. Your mother feels it'll pressure you; meanwhile, this was her idea."
"'K." I flicked the cigarette butt into the street, having no true thoughts about what he said. We hit it off, we hit it off. I didn't want to get my hopes up—that the pretty girl from across the bay would fall in love with me.
"Can I say one more thing? Only because I've thought a lot about it this afternoon, and maybe this—what I have to say will make me a piece-of-shit."
I gestured for him to continue.
"All the stuff I said before, about you working for me?"
I nodded.
"You and Amelia get married…I'd take that off the table. I'd also give you and your bride three million dollars, youse buy a house, start your lives . . . My only stipulation," he placed his hand on his chest, "youse stay in New York. You do your residency here in New York. Kylie going away for school is one thing . . . It'd kill your mother if you literally moved. You and Amelia wanna be doctors—be doctors together, choose whatever specialty you wish. With the money, youse can start your own practice—have the means to right away. You could even move upstate if you wanted to, but you stay within the state."
"Is . . . are you bribing me?" I whispered, and what he said didn't bother me at all, didn't make him a piece-of-shit in my eyes either. It sounded like a sweet deal. "'Cause . . . I can't make her fall in love with me."
"You can . . . but there's no pressure."
"That's impossible." I shook my head.
"You're observant and a decent actor—be the guy of her dreams."
Now I stared at him like he'd grown three heads.
"I'm just saying . . . If you can't or don't fall in love with her, forget about it. I don't want that for you. In the long run, you two would be miserable, and it's not a bribe. It's incentive—to get you to open up and try. I'm sure Luke will be donating to that marriage as well—he'll match me if I tell him to." He lifted his hands. "Regardless, you're to be a gentleman." Dad gave me this weird look as he said it again. "Don't step out of line, no is no—"
"I know that." As soon as he said that, my stomach rolled with nausea. "I'm not an animal. I'm not drunk either . . ."
"Movies, popcorn, small talk – that's what I hear first dates are all about. You can handle that, right?" He patted my back.
"Shouldn't be too hard." He'd never understand if I told him that it was—that it would be difficult. "I doubt she's really interested." I stuffed that note into my pocket, totally forgot that I was still holding it. "I bet she's just going along with Mom for the sake of doing so, or her father is pressuring her."
"She's interested," he said. "They're already planning the wedding . . . in their heads anyway."
"Stop." Now he was being ridiculous. "I can see you offering what you are . . . but most people wouldn't—put a price on their daughter's head or whatever."
"You'd be surprised, but okay…I'm just trying to be straight with you. Don't believe me . . . I may be married—have been married for a million years, but I can still tell when a woman is interested. She stared at you all night . . . while you kept stealing glances at your aunt, who's now avoiding you like the plague. Like you, I may not say much, but I always have my eyes open."
My eyes shot up to meet his. "Um—"
He looked away from me, shaking his head, and he was suddenly pissed—like he just flipped that emotion on. "Do I even wanna know?"
I shook my head, my heart in my throat.
"That shit you were talking about before…? The married broad?"
I nodded, deciding to come clean if I had to. Dad doesn't want to see me dead, so he wouldn't tell my uncle. "Nothing happened—"
"Fuck." He turned in a circle, holding his head. "I wanna know everything—everything that happened last night." He looked to the door to the house, and then grabbed onto my sweater to pull me from the garage. "Start talking."
I slowly blew out a breath, placing my hands in my pockets. "I developed these feelings . . ." I racked my brain for the right words. "I thought she might have felt the same . . . I went over there last night. I kissed her—made her kiss me, and she—" I decided to leave the gun out of it, although I wasn't sure if I should. "She cried, kept telling me no, and for a minute—for a minute, I refused to take that for an answer. I was drunk—mad fucking drunk and confused. You have to believe me."
He didn't comment.
"I told her I was sorry a million times—she kicked me out of their house. It was all me. She—she hates me now," I whispered.
"And nothing happened?"
I rubbed my knotted stomach. "Nothing. It was all in my head."
"I—I'm speechless."
"I'm sorry."
He smacked me on the back of my head. "Regardless of your feelings . . . More importantly, you should have stepped off because of who she's married to. She's your uncle's wife—my brother."
"In my head, it didn't matter. I know what I did was wrong. It'll never happen again, and . . . nothing happened. She's being—acting like this victim, like I really did something," I sighed, looking up to the sky.
"Nothing happened," he repeated. "If that's true, you should be able to come clean—"
"He'd kill me. Carlisle would have the right, but—" I paused, turning my whole body to face him. "I'd kill him first—just so you know… I'm content to let this die…you decide how important it is for Carlisle to know."
The side of his mouth pulled up into a smirk before he went back to being pissed. "Fuck." He turned to kick his own tire. "What goes on in there?" He got me again—the back of my head.
I took it. After all, I had no choice. "I fucked up. I was drunk—I'm never drinking again."
"I've heard that before—right from the horse's mouth. You sound like your uncle right now—pushing broads, don't know the meaning of the word no . . . Now that scares me. Are you really sorry?" He spoke with his hands.
I bit my lip, ashamed of not being ashamed enough. "I was—I mean, yes. I am."
He sucked his teeth, shaking his head. "You have to work on that—sounding and looking like you actually give a fuck."
"I hate that she hates me—is afraid of me. I wish I'd never gone over there, but if I hadn't . . . I'd still think I was in love with her. I know now that I'm not—I don't know what's wrong with me." I cradled my head. "I think I love them all . . ."
"Yeah, your uncle had that problem, too."
Carlisle was the last person I wanted to think about.
"I don't know what to make of you," Dad said. "I've learned so much about you in the past two days . . . I don't like everything I've heard."
Feeling like I'd been punched in the gut, I wondered why I was surprised by his words. "Sorry I'm a disappointment. No wonder you wanna marry me off to another family." Upset or not, I laughed.
"That's not what I meant—"
"It's cool." I shrugged. "She hates me—the one person I thought understood me. I think I'm hurting more, but fuck me, right? Just— Can we stop talking about it? Get on with life?" I felt compelled to walk away—get away from this house and him, but I couldn't. I needed to change the subject. Whether or not I was sorry, I still felt a great loss—as far as her being a friend was concerned. I'm not in love with her, but I still love her—as a friend—and she's just beautiful; an attraction is inevitable on my part.
It's what I do with those feelings . . .
As of now, they'd go in the vault and stay there forever.
"You're not a disappointment. What I meant was—"
"Oh, congrats . . . Grandpa." I was teasing, trying to lighten the mood, as I had no desire to hear his judgmental words.
He sighed, scratching the back of his head. "That's some crazy shit, right?"
I forced myself to laugh. "I guess . . ."
"Mom and me are gonna cel-e-brate." He punched the air. "If you feel the need to take them for ice cream or coffee after . . . by all means. Just don't let your sister out of your sight—but you know, youse can stay out."
"You want time alone with Mom?" I asked.
"Yes."
"You could have just said that." I rolled my eyes.
"Look," he held my arm, "shit happens. I still don't know what to tell you besides…stay away from Alex. You won't call, go over there, or send her shit. You understand?"
I nodded.
"You did what you did. It's done, okay? I happen to believe that Alex won't utter a word. She knows the shitstorm this could cause—it'd rain down on all of us. She has too much to lose by opening her mouth, even if she's the victim—"
"Victim." I spat.
"I'll talk to her—"
"No, you won't."
He ignored me. "Despite hating you, she wouldn't want to see you hurt. Let this go."
"Right." I rasped.
"If I find out you went over there—"
"I won't," I said.
"We're ready!" Kylie jumped into the driveway.
"Oh," Dad reached into his pocket, "here." He handed me a hundred bucks.
"What's this?" I went to give it back. "I have money." I definitely didn't want his.
"Pay for all of them." He pushed me. "It'll make you look—I don't know." He walked back toward the house.
I sighed, waiting for the three of them to get into the car. But then I remembered my nine was hiding in the backyard. "I'll be right back."
"Damion!" Kylie exclaimed. "I finally got out. Mom wouldn't let us go. She kept talking, and now—"
"I gotta piss!" I hated myself for shouting that—embarrassing myself.
Nevertheless, I went through the house to get to the backyard. My gun was where Sonny placed it earlier. Honestly, whether he trusts me or not, Dad would not have let Kylie leave with me if he hadn't learned I'd taken to carrying one. We would have still gone to the movies—all piled into Mom's minivan—but Vito would've had to follow us.
Now he knows I can handle myself, and that made me smile for some reason, even if I was a disappointment. At least now he's learning the truth—how fucked I was. Mom still thinks I'm her little angel.
"Damion…?"
I heard her voice and didn't want to turn around. Instead, I placed my heat in my waist, making sure no one could see.
"Damion…?" she asked again, and I could feel that she'd walked closer. "Did you get my letter?"
Gulping, making my heart go back down to where it's supposed to be, I turned around to face her. Maggie was in pajamas—these pink and white shits, and a gray hoodie—and she had a dog, a collie, with her.
Maggie was adorable—as beautiful as she was last night, only now I could see how young she was. Her eyes were bright with a softness that told me she'd never seen . . . anything before, an innocent hue. All of which made me feel even worse about last night.
Did anything good come from last night?
I wanted to forget all about it—every-fucking-thing—stuff it all into that same vault that held my confusion over Alex.
"Are you okay?" Maggie reached for me. "You look—"
I pulled back, pushing my glasses up my nose. "I'm fine."
"Oh—"
"I gotta go." I went to walk around her.
"Did you get my note?"
I stopped, turning back to her. "I haven't had the chance to read it. My brother forgot he had it," I said. "How are you feeling?"
"I'm fine." She steered her dog away from my mother's plants. "I just—I wanted to say hi."
"Hello." I had no idea what to say. "Listen, about last night—" I held my lips, my other hand still in my pocket—stuck on stupid. "I drank too—too much, which isn't an excuse . . . but I apologize if I offended you, or disrespected you in any way—"
"You didn't." She cut me off, smiling brightly. "Last night was . . ." She went off with a sigh, holding her stomach. "It was amazing. I had a great time."
"Cool." I blew out a breath, pushing my hair back. "I was on my way out . . ."
"Where are you going?"
"Out."
"I know, but where?" she asked.
"Um, the movies." I furrowed my brow, surprised that I wasn't pissed at her for pushing. It was actually cute.
"A date?"
I shook my head. "I don't know what it is. My companion is a female…" I rocked back on my heels, thinking better. "Yes, she's my date."
The wind picked up and I was able to see her outline—her sweater snug around her midsection. She might be Miss Susie Sunshine—on her way to the convent—but she truly had a body made for sin.
I'd—
I shook my head of the thoughts before they could form.
They were the same from last night, wanting to make her my li'l slut, turn her into the opposite of what she was now.
She's legal, and that's all I really had to know about her for what I had in mind.
That doesn't make thinking about her okay, though.
"Oh." Her shoulders slumped. "I thought—well, I—" She sniffled and tears filled her eyes.
"Why—uh—" I pointed to her dumbly. "You okay?" I remembered everything from last night, only it plays like a dream would. "I know—I know I was persistent, I got fresh with you…" I shouldn't be allowed near women at all, I thought.
"You didn't—you didn't do anything, but I thought you wanted to." She was crying, refusing to face me, and she was correct. A large part of me wanted to kiss the fuck out of her right now—claim her.
But . . .
"Why are you crying?" I wanted to wipe her tears away, pull her into a hug, but…
And I didn't know why I cared.
I usually don't do tears—can't fucking stand them.
"Because I'm so stupid." She hiccupped.
"No…you're not." I mock punched her shoulder. "You're cool, Church Girl," I laughed.
"I didn't want to be Church Girl—not with you." She whimpered.
"Maggie—"
"I should go." She backed away from me. "Have a nice life."
Her parting words were so final, and they threw me for a loop. And no matter how much I didn't want her to go—although I had no idea why I wanted her to stay—I didn't go after her.
"Get home safe!" I called out to her, having walked out to the front.
Tonight would be a night of cutting losses—licking my wounds, realizing that the path I was on was no longer an option. I had to look forward to the future, let shit go, and get on with my life.
Because life continues whether you're ready or not—it'll end up just happening around you if you're not careful. Time passes, things change, but sometimes people don't evolve. They get stuck, and I wasn't going to be one of those sorry motherfuckers.
Some shit happened this weekend, and I have no idea if I'd changed for the better, or for the worse. I hoped for the good—or what's supposedly "good", since I was no longer allowed to do those odd jobs, carry out contracts.
But I had to move on . . .
Before I entered the car, I racked my brain for an idea—what to do, how to be.
I'd sworn to be a gentleman, but I'd channel my inner Sonny. He's always calm and collected with women, regardless of having a horrible temper everywhere else. He's the epitome of a ladies' man.
"Ready to go?" With my heart on my sleeve, which is very unlike my brother, I hopped in, making sure to grin at Amelia.
She was riding shotgun. "Yes."
"Cool." I started the car, and the teenagers were already making out. All I heard were kissing noises, and I couldn't even peep Kylie in the backseat.
I turned on the radio. "Crazy night, huh? Bet you didn't think all that shit would happen." I placed my hand on her chair to back out of the driveway, while I also vowed to talk—be interesting and swallow my nerves.
Dad was right—totally fucking correct in his assessment.
At this point, I had nothing to lose, but with Amelia . . . I had a shitload to gain.
Amelia . . .
Sure, she was way out of my league, but maybe I could woo her jeans off.
If everything my mother and father said was true . . .
Being married to someone who looked like her wouldn't be unfortunate either. When Dad said she wanted to settle down, that interested me—she wasn't interested in head games, petty bullshit.
She wanted to get down to business, and I felt the same.
I hate all this shit—the dating, the small talk. I wasn't sure how much more I could take—having all these beautiful women around, and yet I haven't gotten laid in forever.
Before Julie broke up with me, she had it in her head that I was cheating. I was also busy—couldn't sniff around with the hopes she'd fuck me. I stopped trying over a month ago, and going without truly doesn't bother me. I jack off every day in the shower.
Overall, our sex life was decent, but then I don't know of anything else. We experimented a lot . . . We'd just hit a recent dry spell. In fact, that should have tipped me off. All the other times she dumped me, she stopped having sex with me—being affectionate—weeks prior while she'd work up the nerves to say what was truly on her mind.
For someone who has all these females around, I sure as fuck wasn't embracing shit.
Why not settle down? I'd be done.
No matter how much I wanted to fall in love and get married, I still didn't want Julie back.
I had evolved.
Amelia and I—we can continue with our schooling. She's younger, not even in medical school yet, so kids would have to wait. And I'm not ready to have children anyway. We'd get a house right here in Brooklyn. We'd be millionaires before we even started our careers. We'd stay out of the garbage, but still be close to our families.
I'd have money and I'd be married to the hottest fucking broad ever . . .
Fuck.
"Actually . . . all the crazy was nice," she whispered, staring out the window.
I drove to the corner and stopped for the light. "Nice?"
Her brows rose. "Well, you guys . . ." she giggled, her face flushing scarlet. "It was nice to see that you guys are a little dysfunctional?"
I nodded, taking off when the light turned green. "That we are."
"It was a relief." She nodded. I felt her eyes on me, which made me needlessly adjust my glasses. "I mean…I was nervous, and I think I made an ass out of myself in front of your brother."
I genuinely laughed. "I wouldn't worry about that."
"Yeah . . ." She blew out a breath. "You guys are like . . . royalty." Her snort was cute. "It was nice to see that you guys have your problems. I don't know. You probably think that's silly."
"No," I said, because I truly didn't. Most people believe that horrible misconception. We're normal, maybe even more fucked-up than the average American family.
"Your mom is really nice—your whole family is great. They're so welcoming and warm."
"Thank you."
We continued to drive, making that small talk, and it was okay. My answers remained on the short side, but she didn't seem to mind.
All the while I wanted to know more about her—not just about her own family, or what she thought of mine, or how nice the weather's been.
It wasn't about playing a role when we'd arrived at the theater. I genuinely wanted to learn more—be myself, let myself be this open book that she could read.
It'd be different. That in itself wouldn't be mundane.
Peto and Kylie were quick to jump out of the car. "Give me the money. I'll get the tickets while you park." She held her hand out.
I slapped the hundred-dollar bill into her palm, turning to Amelia. "Did you maybe wanna get some coffee instead?"
"I'd like that…thanks."
"Um…" My sister tapped on my forearm.
I looked back Kylie.
"You're not coming inside?" She leaned into the car. "Would you rent us a hotel room? We can't use our credit cards—they'd know. I bet Dad'll give you a medal or something if he saw that charge on yours . . . or, can I borrow s'more cash?"
I sighed. "Enjoy the movie."
"Please!" she begged.
"No, I'll be around . . . Call me if anything."
She made a face.
"I'm not going anywhere unless I see you go inside." I pointed.
"You're acting like Sonny." She grimaced.
"It is what it is."
"Thanks for the ride." Peto pulled her away from the car.
"If I find out youse didn't stay—"
"We're staying. No worries." He smiled at me. My sister pouted all the way to the entrance. They did buy tickets and enter.
Once they were out of sight, I put the car in drive.
"That was sweet of you—for looking out for her," Amelia said.
I grinned. "I'm her big brother . . . We're—we're big on security, as I'm sure you can imagine. Usually, I cut her some slack. Being the Skip's only daughter can be a hardship."
"Tell me about it," she muttered.
"But the hotel?" I winced, turning into the parking lot anyway. "It's too much. Did you wanna park and then we could walk? There's a coffee shop on Third Avenue—right there." I jerked a thumb. "It's not far."
"That's what I love about New York City. You essentially don't need a car—you can walk everywhere. I've never had that—always had to drive. Do you have a car? Kylie says this one is your mom's."
"Nope. I honestly never needed one—like you said. That, and I can get a ride anywhere, or borrow a whip. My parents offered, and then I was going to get one myself, but with school . . . I really just have no use for one." But as I stared at her, I briefly thought about it. If we continued seeing each other, I'd be making that trek to Jersey frequently.
I'm getting ahead of myself.
"Oh . . ."
We both became quiet. The car was parked. I found a spot quickly, but neither of us were leaving.
"So—" she was the first to speak, turning her whole body to me and leaning into the seat. "Does your mom try to hook you up often?"
I chuckled, even if that wasn't meant to be funny. "No…She's usually busy playing matchmaker for Sonny."
"Why?" she asked. "It sounded like—and correct me if I'm wrong—that he was hung up on…Katie, right?"
I nodded. "Yeah, but—" I didn't want to get into talking about them. "I, um, I was engaged—that's why she never set me up." I had to look away, as I wasn't sure how she'd react. "This is actually kind of sudden." Now I let out a nervous chuckle, studying the steering wheel.
"When…did you break up?"
"Yesterday," I whispered. "But . . . with me being in school, we didn't have much time for us. I'd say it had been over for a while. She just—I don't know—waited. I told her to keep the ring. I'm—"
"You poor thing." She placed her hand on my forearm. "I'm so sorry."
"I'm fine."
She sat up, pursing her lips. "Look, we don't have to do this." She waved a hand. "There's no pressure. You know? We don't have to see this as…a date? We can just forget about it. To be totally honest, I don't want to be anyone's rebound . . . I'm sorry if you felt you had to—if there was—if your mom pushed you," she rambled, a cute stammering mess. It was endearing and honest.
"Not at all." I didn't know how to reply to that. Personally, I wanted to see this as a date, but was it too soon? Would regular people be dating this soon after calling off an engagement? Julie and I never set a date, but I knew I wanted us married before I started my residency. Plus, before yesterday, I hadn't seen her in nearly two weeks.
"You should really take some time for you—heal, figure out what you want." She rubbed up my bicep, and her touch—Christ, her touch was like a jolt. She'd shocked me, but I wasn't sure if she felt that. It was like a bug zapper. "Damn. You should use dryer sheets." She shook out her hand. "Get rid of that static."
"Um, yeah." I straightened up, too, pulling my sweater. "We can…Did you want to see the movie?" I turned to her, wanting to catch her gaze, but she wouldn't look at me.
She grinned. "I'm fine here . . . if you just wanted to talk."
"Oh . . ." I nodded. "What exactly is a rebound?"
She giggled. "You don't know what one is?"
"I get the concept, but—"
"It's the person you use to get over the last person you were with—someone you just jump into things with to make yourself happy. It's a quick fix, but sometimes—most times they don't work out. And I'm not being presumptuous—that we'd hit it off—I'm just saying. They usually say the person you meet after the rebound—that's the person you can settle with? But don't quote me. I don't know dick about relationships." She guffawed.
I smiled, wanting to touch her hair. Amelia's bangs were nearly in her eyes, and I just wanted to feel how soft it might be. "You've never had a boyfriend?"
"One . . . we were together for a while. We met when I was a college freshmen, and we were together almost two years." Her eyes widened. "We never lived together or anything. The last year we were together it was long distance . . . He was offered a job in Philadelphia . . ."
"So, I might be your rebound?" I was curious as to how often she dated.
She shook her head. "I've gone on a few dates—none of them promising." Amelia grimaced. "You have no idea how many losers there are out there."
"What about the dudes at your school? The ones in your program?"
She shrugged. "Just hasn't happened, and my dad is so . . . he scares them all away. In fact, I never have the chance to break up with anyone. I'm always getting dumped, or blown off."
I just went for it, pushed her soft bangs out of her eyes.
She paused while I did it, but smiled at me.
"Sorry. They looked like they were getting in your eyes."
"It's okay," she whispered.
"Your pops never scared away the boyfriend?"
"I managed to get away with hiding him for a while. Then . . . my father just had to realize that I'm grown—old enough to make my own decisions. But I mostly just . . . I never brought him home."
I had a question on the tip of my tongue, but I wasn't sure if I should ask. "How did you end up in the car with me tonight? I'm to understand your father is who he is—our family's business is similar . . ." Regardless of all the shit Dad said, I didn't know what she knew about her own father. It's different with the girls. Like, Kylie knows some things—has an idea—but she doesn't know.
"You mean, why I agreed?" She fidgeted where she sat, seemingly uncomfortable. "I went to lunch with my stepmother—your mother happened to be there. She, um, she showed me your picture. I'm single. You're—well, she said she wished we could meet, and I didn't know what that meant—didn't know you were engaged. Now I do, but she called Friday—asking me to come to the wedding—hoping I'd be your date." She rolled her eyes. "Then that turned into dinner tonight, blah, blah." She waved a hand. "She kept calling me to change things around. Before this weekend, though, I think she only wished we could get together."
"I'll be honest," I laughed, "my mother doesn't like many. She's only done this a few times, but never to me." The fact that Mom adored Amelia said a lot to me. I'm not like Sonny in that I do whatever my mother suggests, but Mom doesn't trust easily—that I did know.
"How's it going so far?"
I nodded. "Pretty fucking great."
She giggled, looking out the window.
"How 'bout that coffee?" The car was suffocating. The more I sat in it, the more I wanted us to go in the backseat to fool around. Now that'd be ideal. "Or, did you wanna get a drink-drink?"
"No . . . I was holding on, guzzling the wine when shit was hairy during dinner." She laughed and turned, leaving the car.
I steeled my nerves before I did the same.
So far, I didn't know what to make of Amelia. She was a knockout—complete with a fuck-awesome body. She's educated, seems easy going, and she's honest.
I felt like I hit the lottery—that maybe my luck was turning around.
Thank you for reading.
Please leave me your thoughts. Part Two will be posted Wednesday . . . Things seem to be going well. What could go wrong?