Page 37 of Caged Bliss

Claudia: You should take a look at the guys Tommy’s in a meeting with.

Angelo: Why, are they particularly handsome? Careful, you might make me jealous.

Claudia: No, they’re talking with accents. Maybe Serbian accents.

Claudia: Since when did you get jealous of me?

Angelo: Since I went down on you and decided you are the sweetest girl I’ve ever met.

I feel myself blushing and grinning at the phone and decide to shove it away before someone catches me smiling like a moron.

Tommy and his guests are deep in discussion when I get back. Serena’s draped over a couch, staring at her phone, scrolling through TikTok, and she doesn’t acknowledge me when I hand over the drink. The men barely glance my way, and I can tell the vibe is different as I open the bottle and pour their drinks. They’re anxious for me to leave, and Tommy’s staring at me with a hard look. I avoid his gaze and watch his phone instead, but there’s too much attention on me, and I go without grabbing it.

I’m in and out for the next couple hours. The men are getting progressively drunker and at some point, Serena passes out with her phone on her chest. She’s snoring slightly, mouth hanging open, and she looks like herself. I remember when we were little, she’d curl up in bed with me at night right after Dad died and Mom first got sick, and I’d tell her stories about princesses slaying dragons, and she’d fall asleep just like that. I don’t mind the dark when you’re around, she’d whisper and wrap her arms around me, and I’d snuggle in close and breathe in her smell.

She came to my bed like that every night until Mom died. Then she stopped like it had never happened, and our lives got so much worse when we moved in with Uncle Rodney.

And now I wonder if she quit coming to my room to spare me whatever Rodney was doing to her, but the second that thought occurs to me, I have to push it away or I’m going to lose my mind.

Around midnight, getting close to the end of my shift, the meeting gets looser. The bottle is long gone and they’re doing shots of vodka now. Tommy’s guests are making elaborate toasts in their language, while Tommy’s making toasts in his pathetic attempt at Italian, and my moment comes when one of the foreign guys knocks over a glass of water all over the coffee table.

“Ah, fuck!” he says. I hurry over with a towel. He tries to help, but I gently shoo him away.

“I can handle it,” I tell him with a smile.

“That’s right, let Claudia clean it up. The bitch is good for that at least.” Tommy cracks up like it’s the funniest thing in the world and the guys are leering at me. I do my best to ignore them as I right glasses and soak water up. “This is Serena’s sister. I ever tell you boys that? I met Serena here one night and she was the most beautiful fucking thing in the world. I mean, look at her, a fucking angel.”

I try not to listen. I really don’t want to hear this. I dab at the water, soaking it up, and start adjusting the contents of the table, stacking napkins, empty glasses, and a couple plates.

“I know the bitch only loves me for my money and my good dick but that’s enough, right? I mean, so long as she keeps looking like that. I threw her sister a job because she’s so fucking pathetic and I felt bad for her. Serena begged me, you know? She was all, ‘Please, Tommy, Claudia needs this and I need Claudia, I need her close to me, we’ve never been apart, please give her a job.’ Fucking pathetic.”

My spine’s on fire. I blink back tears. I didn’t know Serena said that. I just assumed Tommy gave me the job to get on her good side, but she’d gone to bat for me, she’d even said she wanted me here, like she couldn’t stand being away from me like I couldn’t stand it either. Then everything moves into focus, and the bathroom incident becomes just another night Serena was too fucked up to think straight, and I grab my little pile of napkins and plates and empty glasses and my wet towel and I dump it all onto my tray.

“I’ll check on you boys in a bit,” I say sweetly, ignoring Tommy completely, and hurry out of the room.

I don’t go back to the bar. I head straight to the nearest single bathroom, hustling like I can’t hold it anymore. I drop the tray on the counter, lock the door, and pull Tommy’s phone from the bottom of the napkin pile.

If there’s a camera in here, I’m screwed. I can’t think about that.

Serena needed me. She needed me here. Which means she still needs me, even if the drugs have her acting like a total stranger.

With shaking hands, I type in the code Serena told me about, and I feel like I’m going to be sick when the screen unlocks and I’m staring at Tommy’s apps.

Chapter 20

Claudia

For a second, I forget how to use a phone. It’s like all my countless hours of practice suddenly desert me and I can’t recall how to open anything. Do I shake the thing? Smash it screen-first on the floor? Then my fingers remember before my head catches up and I’m pulling open the message app.

There’s something sacred about a person’s texts. This is the private space and each thread is a glimpse into another slice of personality. Tommy isn’t Tommy with everyone: sometimes he’s Tommy the boss and other times he’s Tommy the friend and so on, cutting him into fine threads like a brain sliced flat onto microscope sides. Tommy with Michael Fuckface isn’t the same as Tommy with Arnold K. It’s bizarre, getting to see how different he is with each person, but also the same.

Tommy likes one-word answers. Because he’s a fucking prick. There’s a lot of “K” and “Fine” scattered throughout and more than a few emojis which is frankly disturbing. A lot of this stuff seems mundane. Texts from his bank with log-in codes, messages from friends about meeting up for dinner, about drinks this weekend, an uncle that wonders if he can come to a barbecue (answer: “Gotta check the schedule but I’ll do my best”).

I don’t know what I’m looking for. I have to stop, close my eyes, take a couple deep breaths, and force myself to remember what Angelo wants. Vito, Roc, and Serbians. I don’t see any of those names in the messages list, even when I scroll down as far as I can go. Each second that slips past is like a fear-dagger straight to my brain. Each moment I’m not back in that room returning this phone is another moment Tommy might realize his phone’s missing and start wondering where it went.

I’m about to give up when I realize something. I’m a total moron. I’ve been looking in the messages?—

But he’s also got Telegram, which is apparently an encrypted fancy texting system that makes life hard for law enforcement.

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