Page 106 of Cook

“One day, one of his men came to me at the end of my shift and offered me a promotion. God, I was fucking naïve.” She ran her down her throat. “The Don used me. Collared me. Passed me around. Did really fucked-up things to me. Hell, when I finally got out, I had to be treated for chlamydia.”

“For what?” I asked.

“It’s a sexually transmitted disease,” she answered as though it were a run-of-the-mill question.

My eyes went wide as I flinched. Fuck. I needed to be tested then. What if I gave something to Daddy?

“They tested you at the recovery house. You’re clean.” Roni rolled up the long sleeve under her scrub t-shirt, revealing scars. They were similar to but not exactly like my own. “A man they calledThe Sadistdid this to me.”

I grabbed her arm, bringing it closer to me and studying the burn marks, and she hissed.

“Cigarettes?” I asked.

“Yeah,” said Roni, flexing her hand.

I released her arm and pulled up my shirt, tucking the hem under my breast and revealing my stomach. “Some of Signora’s clients had a thing for blades.”

Roni stiffened. “Signora?”

I worked my tongue against the roof of my mouth. I’d been punished when speaking her real name. Glancing around the apartment, I reassured myself that no one else was here. And Roni said Tommy G.’s full name.

Weakly, I answered, “Amaranta Gambino.” And I found she was right. It helped to say the name aloud.

Roni’s fingers reached for me but stopped. “May I?”

I nodded, and her cool fingertips brushed over one of the longer, angrier scars.

“She let them do that to you?”

“He—” Tommy, but I choked on his name. I forced it past my clenched teeth. “Tommy only cared about my cunt. He wasn’t creative when it came to how he used me.” I halted, my eyes prickling, and swallowed hard.

“But?” Roni prompted me to continue.

“But Signora let the other clients do what they wanted. ‘Anything to please them,’ she would say. I’d get beaten or thrown in the cage when I displeased any of them.” My cheeks were on fire, and I stared at the flashing green 12:00 on the microwave.

Silence filled the space between us until I couldn’t keep my eyes away and looked over at Roni.

When she looked like she was about to vomit, I pulled my shirtfrom under my breast and let it fall to my waist again. I didn’t care who saw my body or scars. Let the world see them! But Cook wouldn’t like it if I made his friend’s girl vomit.

I almost laughed. She called herself a nurse.

“Look, Maddie,” said Roni, working her jaw. “I’m not looking to trade war stories. Or have a competition. But you and I know what we’ve gone through.”

“Do we?” I looked around her apartment. “You seem like you got a nice life here. I didn’t get that chance.”

“You’re getting it now,” said Roni, fidgeting again with her hands. “I shouldn’t be telling you—or anyone—this for safety reasons, but I’m the reason Don Gambino was locked up. And when his trial rolls around, I’ll have to testify in court against him.”

I recoiled, appalled at the thought of having to face him again. “Why?”

“I overheard things.” Roni lifted one shoulder. “When one of Gambino’s associates stopped by his office, he pushed me into a room off his office and piped classical music over the speakers.”

We both shivered. He’d made me listen to classical music too, but through headphones. And opera. A bow drawing across strings now sent terror through my blood, and I would bet Roni was remembering the same.

“You were a waitress though. Why didn’t you just leave?”

“I tried, but . . . circumstances drove me back.”

I waited for her to say more, but she didn’t.

---