Page 1 of Curse

1

Siena

Istumble up my rickety wooden steps and through the front door of my little house, dropping a box of plants and my jacket on the table.

My big red leather handbag is slipping off my shoulder, the ringing of my phone muffled in its depths.

Bumping the door closed with my hip, I dig around in my bag for my phone. My sister’s name is on the screen, and I hit the speaker button, setting it next to the box, continuing to paw through the bag.

“Emily, hey, what’s up?”

I find the hair tie I’m looking for and throw my hair up into a messy bun, kicking off the spiky red heels that match my short sleeve sweater.

Most women wear sneakers for the commute from New Jersey into New York and wear their heels at work, but I do the opposite. It makes me feel like I have some kind of a life outside of work. I don’t, but it’s nice to pretend.

Emily speaks, but it’s so loud where she is, like a vacuum cleaner roaring through the speaker. The sound makes thephone vibrate off the edge of the table.

“Emily?” I yell. “Speak up! Where are you? You sound like you’re in a blender.”

Emily’s voice comes blasting through the phone. “Are you deaf or what, Siena? I’m on a shitty little tin can plane somewhere over Georgia, I think.”

Her voice muffles as she talks to someone else, then comes back to me. “Yeah, Mikey says we’re flying over Lake Marion, Lake Moultrie, something. I don’t know. Bumfuck nowhere.”

I laugh as I set the phone back on the table and pull one of the plants out of the box, brushing off some loose dirt. I have a week off from the Victim Advocacy Center where I work helping crime victims, and I can’t let my plants die.

“You just take off without me?” I huff jokingly. “I hope you at least brought the secret agent cosmetic case with the 1003 zipper pockets. You did, right? If you don’t have it, turn around and come home immediately.”

“Siena, shut up for a minute. I just thank God you answered.” Even though she’s yelling, Emily’s voice is trembling, carrying a weight that instantly puts me on edge.

“What’s going on, Em?” My tone changes from joking to worried, and I drop the plant back in the box. Though she’s never been one to shy away from drama, there is something in her voice that has my full attention.

“Where’s Mom? I’ve been trying her all day, and she’s not answering.” Emily sounds panicked.

“I don’t know, babe. I haven’t talked to her in a few weeks.” Picking up the phone, I sit on the edge of my oversized purple velvet couch. “I’m sure she’s fine, though. Maybe she’s with Franco? Why are you freaking out?”

“Of course she’d be with Franco. Shit.”

“That’s my guess, anyway.”

Even though I’m focused on Emily, I can’t keep the irritation out of my voice. Franco is the oldest of us, our brother, the golden boy, Mom’s favorite by a long shot, and it pisses off both of us.

“I wonder what the citizens of New York City would think if they knew that Officer Franco Bellamorte is a fucking mama’s boy,” I snort.

The roar of the plane comes through the speaker, and I move the phone closer to my mouth. “Emily? Can you hear me?”

“Siena, listen. I just called because… because I couldn’t leave without telling you. Michael and I, we’re not coming home for a while,” Emily confesses, her words rushed and heavy with urgency.

My brain freezes, and I can’t think. “Not coming home for a while? Why? What does that mean? Are you okay? Is Mikey okay?”

She doesn’t say anything, and over the plane noise, I can barely make out Emily’s choked breathing. It sounds like she is either crying or trying not to.

“I can’t say much, Si, but it’s bad. It’s…. It’s Michael’s work, guys he works with. It’s complicated. I don’t know all the details, but we can’t trust anyone right now. These guys want Michael dead, and it’s not safe for us to be in New York right now.”

“Wait, what? Someone wants Mikeydead? You said ‘dead,’ right? I’m not hallucinating?”

“I don’t want you to worry. We just need to take some time away.” Emily’s words are choppy, cutting in and out like an ax.

My thoughts are racing, trying to come up with a way to helpher. As much as he’s a narcissistic dick, Franco immediately jumps to mind. He’s still a cop, after all, sworn to protect and defend.

---