Page 82 of Salvatore

Chapter Twenty-One

Aedry

Vincent entertains us with stories all through dinner. Rita enthusiastically and repeatedly jumps in, adding to Vincent’s conversation in that animated way of hers.

Vincent is very funny and a natural storyteller. Strangely enough, neither his ability to spin a tale nor his quick wit squelch my urge to nut punch him.

This lying and cheating snake supports two women, lavishing each with gifts in exchange for their silence and obedience. He doesn’t care whom he hurts, turning a blind eye to the tears they shed for him. And for what? To feel more like a man?

Bastard.

Sal sweeps his thumb over my hand beneath the table. I don’t realize how hard I’m squeezing it until then. I glance down to see our interlaced fingers, hoping to find some comfort in the way his large hand presses against mine. On a different occasion, maybe his gentle hold would be enough to soothe me. Not tonight and definitely not here.

I smooth my free hand over my skirt. This should have been a fun night out. The meal was delicious and Vincent and Rita went out of their way to make us feel at home. Rita bustled about, rushing to make certain everyone had everything they needed and more.

“Sit, Aedry. You’re doing too much,” she said after I helped lay out the food.

Vincent’s gestures were more showy. He opened a bottle of wine I couldn’t pronounce, nor was familiar with. The way Sal leaned back on his heels made me think it was outrageously expensive. And now, following the decadent dessert Rita spent hours preparing, they share a bottle of Scotch twice as old as I am.

“And that’s when the little prick valet runs off,” Vincent says, laughing as he finishes his story. “But I don’t give a shit. I’m introducing myself and shaking a legend’s hand.”

Rita rolls her eyes. “Aedry, I didn’t know what was happening. I’m like, where the hell is he going? I don’t watch football. I don’t know who this guy is.”

“How could you not know him? He did that Nike commercial. The one with the puppy you like,” Vin adds.

I’m barely listening to Vincent’s tale about how a parking valet brought him a famous athlete’s Jaguar, mistaking it for his. I’m so done with playing nice and I just want to go home.

They laugh when he motions back to the picture of Vin with the guy at the Super Bowl. Sal chuckles, but I can only manage a weak smile at best.

On the surface, Vin and Rita seem like such a happy, loving couple. It’s almost easy to forget that they’re willingly living a lie. But I’m just as bad, indulging them by keeping my mouth shut. And when it comes to Salvatore, I don’t know what to think. Regardless of how tight I’m clinging to his hand, I can’t help but be upset at him for accepting and being a part of this lifestyle.

He knows I’m not happy. I can tell by the way his thumb continues to stroke my hand. I all but sigh with relief when Rita stands to clear the table. I rise with her, carrying my plate and Sal’s along with the tray of leftover pasta.

“That’s a good woman you have there, Sal,” Vincent remarks as I walk away.

Fuck you, I obviously don’t say, even though I can feel his seedy stare crawling along my spine.

I’m rinsing the plates and setting them in the dishwasher when Rita sweeps in with the remains of our dinner. “Aedry, leave them. The maid will clean up in the morning.”

“It’s okay,” I say, moving fast.

I don’t like this dysfunctional relationship. In a way, I’m angry at Rita for putting up with it. Yet, I do feel sorry for her and for Donnie, too, despite her part in this. So, I fill the dishwasher and scrub a few pans. It’s all I can do for her.

I’m drying my hands after wiping down the counter when Sal and Vincent step into the kitchen.

“Aedry, we should go,” Salvatore says.

Rita throws her arms around me. “I wish you didn’t have to,” she says.

I think she means it. Maybe she sees a shared camaraderie with me. If so, she’s wrong. No way would I put up with this arrangement.

“Thank you for a lovely dinner,” I manage.

“You’re welcome, sweetie.” She hugs me again, this time tighter. “Let’s get together for lunch next weekend. We’ll make a day of it—get our nails done, do a little shopping.” She whirls me around to face our men. “Vincent’s treat. Right, Vin?”

Vin nudges Sal and motions to us. “See what having such a fine woman at your side is going to cost me?”

“I’ll cover Aedry,” Sal assures him, glancing my way.

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