Page 35 of Merciless Attraction

“That’s great. Maybe a pinch of salt and some more garlic,” I tell her, leaning forward to kiss her gently as she returns to stirring. “Do you prefer a bechamel or ricotta filling?”

“Cheese, cheese, and more cheese, please,” Gemma says with a giggle. “If we were doing like a family dinner where we have to serve a dozen or more, then the bechamel is better for a sturdy slice. But right now? I just want to indulge in decadence to forget what’s coming for us.”

I nod and we get to work finishing the dinner and while the lasagna bakes, we unpack the rest of her stuff. Some fits into the closet downstairs, while the rest fits into a section of my bedroom closet.

It’s only when Gemma is making room that she reaches into the back of the closet to pull out a sweater I haven’t seen in decades.

“Where did you get this?” she asks. Her voice trembles slightly as she runs her hand over the fabric.

“Your mother gave it to me after I got out,” I tell her.

“I remember watching her knit this. She said it was for someone special, someone who needed it. You talk so freely about serving time in prison.”

“I don’t have a reason to hide my past. I did something fucked up and I paid for it. I’ve been paying for it for a long time.”

“Why did you come back to our family? Didn’t you get into trouble working for my dad?” She asks.

“I wasn’t working for your dad. I was Bash’s only friend. I was in foster care after my father died and no one knew how to find my mother. I had to go to school and the first day I showed up, I saw Bash playing by himself.”

“How old were you?”

“It was around third or fourth grade, I think. We were nine, and everyone in the class was like, ‘don’t talk to Sebastien because he makes the kids he hates disappear’.”

She chuckles. “That sounds about right. That’s what a lot of kids said about me in high school, but Natalie was there for me. You still showed up for my brother. What happened?”

Her curiosity isn’t unexpected, and replaying some of the most troubling moments of my childhood isn’t where I want this night to go. Yet, I want her to know the depths of me as a man.

A smile crosses my lips as I reflect on the memory of becoming friends with Bash. “We had to be about a month or so into the school year. Every kid was afraid of your brother. It wasn’t just the reputation of your father, but Bash has a temper, too.”

“I’ve seen that firsthand” she adds with a light laugh.

“One day I’m heading outside for recess, and I overheard some kids talking about Bash. They were saying the rumors weren’t true and that his father wasn’t the godfather or some bullshit. But one kid, Mikey, he was massive, and he bragged about his father and uncle being a part of the mob.”

“There’s always one asshole.”

I chuckle. “Yeah, someone always wants to test their mettle against the kid of a mafia don. Mikey walks up to Bash and his friends are egging him on. Soon there’s a crowd gathering and Bash has murder in his eyes. He doesn’t stand to be disrespected, especially when he’s minding his business. This day gave me a glimpse of what Bash was capable of.”

“Were the cops called?” She asks.

“Yes. Mikey’s at least a foot taller and twenty pounds heavier than Bash, but he starts making fun of Bash in front of everyone. Bash cracks a joke or two back that piss Mikey off. Mikey swings and Bash retaliates. Even at nine years old, your brother was volatile.”

“That’s a mixture of my mother and father. They never wanted their kids walking the street without knowing how to protect themselves.”

“That makes sense,” I tell her. “Bash is beating Mikey’s face into the schoolyard. One of Mikey’s friends tried to jump in, but I didn’t like that because Mikey started it. I ended up fighting two boys off while Bash fought Mikey and another kid trying to get him off of Mike. When it came time to run down what happened to the principal, I told them everything I heard and got Bash out of trouble. We’ve been friends ever since.”

We head down to the kitchen where the aroma of dinner envelops me, and all that’s left for us to do is open the wine. Dinner tastes better in the living room as I close the curtains and turn on the TV that’s hidden inside of a painting. It plays low in the background because I like it best to have something moving in my peripheral while I’m down here working.

“And after the fire?” she asks.

My shoulders raise up and down with indifference. “I’ve always defended Bash because he never started the fights. People always brought their insecurities to him. After the fire, I stepped up, but your father stepped in when Bash tried to take the blame.”

“Was it really Bash’s idea to set that fire?” she asks.

“I’m sorry, Gemma, but it was. The main thing is Ichoseto help Bash out of that situation. I thought Bash was doing something your father told him to do. I didn’t know this was something Bash chose to get on La Familia’s radar. But it worked out that even with Bash confessing to his involvement, I didn’t have a family behind me. Bash, your parents, your brothers, they all did what they could for me. Becoming a doctor after everything I’ve gone through gave your parents and Bash a way to pay me back for my loyalty.”

“And you still came to my rescue.” She grins as I pull out a bottle of Pinot Noir to accompany our dinner.

“Of course I did, Gemma. I care about you and always have. It's one of the reasons I hated coming out here. I wasn’t ready to walk away from you, from that kiss, but I had to come out here for the family.” I wait for my admission to register, but Gemma doesn’t want to talk about us from six years ago.

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