Page 10 of Straightened Out

My eyes cut to her just as she shoves a greasy French fry into her mouth. Chewing, she winks at me. The girl is playing with fucking fire and judging by the gleam in her eye, she gets off on the flames. I wonder what else gets her off. Does she even know? She’s barely fucking legal. My hand tightens around the bottle as I start to think about how many lovers she’s taken and if any of them knew what the fuck they were doing when they had her underneath them.

“Fuck this,” I mutter, tearing my eyes away from her. I stalk across the room and grab my suitcase. Tossing it on the bed, I unzip it and pull out a t-shirt and a pair of basketball shorts.

“Here,” I say, shoving the clothes at her. “Put this on.”

“Looks a little big.”

“Violet,” I growl.

“Fine, but don’t eat my cheeseburger.” She pauses and glances at the bottle of vodka. “Oh, who am I kidding, you’re deep into a pity party for one to care much about food.”

Ignoring her, I drop an ice cube into my glass and lift it in salute.

“Here’s to you, Bug,” I say.

May you fucking eat your burger and go the fuck to bed before I make it my mission to find out what gets you off.

She rolls her eyes and tucks my clothes under her arm, sashaying her hips as she makes her way back to the bathroom and slams the door.

Good, she’s mad.

I can handle her mad so long as she’s not wearing a fucking towel.

Taking a seat in the armchair in the corner of the room, I nurse my drink. The bathroom door opens, and I reluctantly lift my gaze to Violet. A groan escapes the back of my throat. I was better off with the towel because seeing her dressed in my basketball shorts and my treasured Jeter t-shirt is far worse. To really add salt to my wounds, she’s knotted it under her tits, revealing her toned stomach.

“If the ballet fails you, you should consider joining a nudist colony,” I tell her pointedly. She doesn’t pay me any mind as she drags the rolling table toward the bed. Plopping onto the edge, she tucks her legs under her ass and starts to go to town on the food.

“So, should we make small talk and make this even more awkward than it already is?” she asks, biting into her burger. With her mouth full, she continues, “What brings you to New York, hot-shot? You only make a visit once a…” Her voice fades as she realizes what day it is. Forcing her food down with a swallow, she whispers, “Shit. It’s your mom’s birthday, isn’t it?”

There’s no need for me to confirm. She knows and when she places the burger back on the plate, her eyes soften.

“I’m sorry, Rocco, I didn’t realize.”

I shrug my shoulders.

“It’s not a big deal,” I say, setting my glass on the table next to me.

“I should’ve put two and two together, especially since Joaquin isn’t with you,” she continues.

“You make it sound like we’re a fucking couple.” It’s meant to come out as a joke, but it doesn’t really meet the mark. I’m not all that funny on a good day, much less on a day like today.

“Well, you two are attached at the hip.” She pauses. “Can I just say it makes sense now.”

I narrow my eyes at her.

“What does?”

She tips her chin to the bottle of vodka.

“I was starting to wonder if I should call Joaquin and have him drag you to a rehab or something.”

I undo the top button of my shirt and lean back against the chair. Her brother wouldn’t bat an eye if he knew I drank myself into a stupor. He’d only ask how bad of a mess I made of things that way he can sweep all my misdeeds under the rug. My uncle is big on appearances, but so is the man he pays to keep me in line and though I’m the one technically running the shots in Miami, it’s Joaquin who keeps me in line. If it wasn’t for him, I’d probably be dead and not at the hand of one of my father’s enemies—because there is a lot of them still lingering—but at the hand of my uncle.

If he knew what the fuck I really did down there night after night, he’d fucking put a bullet between my eyes. Actually, he’d make me dig my own grave, then he’d put a bullet in my head. Heaven forbid the don himself gets his hands dirty.

“I know you and your sister are estranged but it might help you to talk to her. If my mom passed, I’d turn to Joaquin because even though we don’t always see eye to eye when it comes to our mom, he’s the only one who’d feel the same loss as me.”

“You and your brother are nothing like me and my sister,” I scoff.

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