“I just want to make sure you get home okay.”
“I’m fine.” I unlock my car and get in. He climbs into the passenger seat. “What are you doing?”
“Making sure you get home okay,” he repeats and clicks on his seatbelt. He’s way too big for this crappy sedan. The contrast between his expensive, sleek suit and my stained and ancient cloth seat covers is almost obscene.
“I told you I’m fine. Don’t you have your own car?”
“I’ll pick it up tomorrow.” He leans back and lets out a long breath. “Come on, baby, let’s get going. You wouldn’t want to risk the wrong kind of attention.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Just that you have a dangerous job, that’s all.”
I look up at the roof and close my eyes. “Wasn’t dangerous before you.”
“You’re wrong about that.”
I put the car into gear and start driving. Inwardly, I’m pissed off and struggling not to show it. “Yeah? How?”
“You’ve been circling around Tommy all this time, and you don’t realize who that guy really is. He seems all flashy and easygoing, maybe a little too flirtatious, maybe overly aggressive, but just a guy, right? Except you don’t realize Tommy’s the kind of man who would cut your throat without a second thought.”
I shiver and keep my eyes on the road. Angelo’s wrong—I knew Tommy was dangerous from the second I saw him. “That’s all the more reason I need to make sure I’m in that club if Serena ever needs me.”
Angelo grunts and I can tell he doesn’t want to rehash this argument. I don’t either. My feet hurt, my back is exhausted, and my ears are ringing from eight hours of that awful club music. I want a hot bath, something to eat, and sweet, wonderful sleep.
I don’t want to think about how much trouble my sister is in.
We stay in silence until I reach my apartment building. He gets out and follows me inside, and I’m tempted to tell him to go away, but another part of me is happy he’s still here. It’s late and I’ve been on edge, and I do feel a lot safer when Angelo’s by my side, even if he sort of is the reason why I’m so worried.
“Thanks for walking me back,” I say at the door. “But I’m calling it a night.” I slide my key into the lock but he’s not walking away. “Really, Angelo, I’m fine.” I look back and his jaw is tight and I can tell he wants to say something, but I’m not in the mood to hear it.
He didn’t do anything wrong. Rationally, I know that, but I had a bad reaction when he tried to keep me away from Cage, and I have a feeling he’s not going to let it drop. Things are dangerous there, I get it; he came in and kicked the hornet’s nest and now the pests are buzzing around ready to sting whatever moves—and I’m right in their crosshairs.
But it doesn’t change anything. I’m at Cage to help Serena, whether I’m in danger or not.
“Invite me in,” he says, his voice very soft.
“I can’t.” I look away. The man’s too tempting, even if I’m mad at him. “Let’s just talk tomorrow.”
“Tonight.” He’s closer now. I open my door, but I don’t disappear inside.
“What’s there to say? You want me to stop going into work and I’m not going to do that. Let’s skip the argument, okay?”
“I’m not here to argue. I get it, you don’t want to listen to me.”
“It’s more than that,” I say, getting frustrated, and I turn to explain that it’s about Serena, it’s about our shitty life, it’s about trying to make something better for the two of us?—
Instead, the words die on my lips.
“Claudia!” Uncle Rodney’s voice echoes down the hall. He walks toward us, looking glassy-eyed and frustrated. “Where the fuck have you been? I tried calling, and?—”
Angelo turns around to stare at my uncle, and I could just about scream. The two men size each other up for a second, and they couldn’t be more different. Uncle Rodney’s shorter, heavier, with an ugly scruffy beard and an alcohol gut, while Angelo’s big and muscular, like he’s cut from diamond.
“Not tonight, Rodney,” I say and step forward before Angelo can do something stupid. “I’m heading inside.”
“We gotta talk.” He ignored Angelo like he’s not there. “I need that money you promised. I got bills to fucking pay, and my goddamn dishwasher broke so I’ve been doing that shit by hand, and I need to get that shit fixed. Where the hell have you been?”
“At work,” I say and hold my palms out at him. “Rodney. This isn’t a good time.”