Page 56 of Straightened Out

“He’s no good, mija,” she shouted. “How could you sell yourself so short?”

I wanted to believe that she had my best interest in heart, that she was playing the role of a concerned mother, but there was so much hatred in her eyes.

“His father was killed, and he will be too,” she continued to rant. Her English turned to Spanish and she started going on about my brother and how he was already dead to her.

When she was done with her tirade, she lifted her hand. I thought she was going to hit me again, so I braced for it, holding my hands in front of my face. That’s when she grabbed my wrist. Her eyes nearly popped out of their sockets as she inspected the bracelet and in an instant, I felt bile rise to my throat. I let her get her jabs in and swallowed her slurs, but if she so much as a laid a finger on that bracelet, I was going to hurt my own mother and that sickened me.

I pulled my hand out of her reach.

“Where did you get that?” she sneered.

“It’s none of your business.”

“Did he give that to you? What did you have to do for it, Violet?”

I knew what she was insinuating, and the funny thing is, the only time I ever sold myself short was when I tried to save her ass. If she knew I took my clothes off night after night to pay her debt would she be so insulting? What would she think if she knew Rocco saved me from that situation? That the man she hates is the one responsible for her keeping her restaurant.

Would I still be a slut?

Would he still be the Devil?

I looked her in the eye, and I told her the truth.

“It was his mother’s bracelet and now it’s mine.”

Her mouth hung open at that and I left her standing in the middle of the room. When I came out of the shower she was gone, and I vowed that I was done pleasing her. I also told myself I needed to get the fuck out of her house once and for all.

The next morning things went from bad to worse. I was just getting ready to leave the house when I heard Victor’s name be called on the television. I followed the sound and found my mother in the kitchen, a cup of coffee in her hand and her eyes glued to the thirteen-inch T.V. she kept on the counter.

Alleged mob boss, Victor Pastore, has surrendered himself to authorities. Sources say he has confessed to murdering a twenty-four-year-old disc jockey.

I covered my mouth, silencing a gasp and without my mother seeing me, I snuck out the front door. It wasn’t until I got to the corner of our block that I stopped and let myself process what I had overheard. My first instinct was to call Rocco and so that’s what I did. I wanted to know if it was true and if he had known anything about it, but he didn’t answer. In fact, the phone didn’t even ring, all I got was his voicemail.

Any questions I had would have to wait. I pocketed my phone and I started for the train, but the neighborhood was buzzing. It was seven o’clock in the morning and instead of getting their kids off to school with a kiss and a ‘have a nice day’, the housewives of Bensonhurst congregated at the school bus stop, running their mouths.

Did you hear?

Oh my God, his poor wife.

I knew he had something to do with that shooting.

His daughters must be devastated.

The men in the neighborhood were no better. I walked into the corner store to grab a coffee and guy behind the counter was talking to the man who owned the butcher shop three doors own.

Watch and you’ll see the neighborhood is going to go to shit now.

There’s going to be a war for his territory.

The longshoremen are fucked.

Who do you think is gonna takeover? My money is on Bianci now that Jimmy Gold is gone.

I took a newspaper, paid for that and my coffee and got the hell out of there as fast as I could. But there was no escaping the news. Victor’s face was plastered on the front page. I didn’t read the article until I was on the train.

It turns out Victor was being extradited back to New York, that he had turned himself into the Miami police. As soon as I read that, I knew Rocco was involved somehow. I skimmed the entire newspaper looking for any mention of his name, but I got nothing.

I went on with my day and by the time I got home there was still no word from Rocco. The whole fucking week passed, and he never called. Saturday came and went and guess what? He never showed to take me to dinner. It’s the start of a new week and all I know is what I read in the papers and see on the news and today it wasn’t Victor who made the front page of the papers, it was Rocco.

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