Page 8 of Bitter Poetry
I circle the crowd, heading in the direction I saw Cosmo take. Carmela is on my right. From this angle, I can see her legs and the fuck-me heels she’s wearing. I definitely approve. Jero saysI’m in the ‘sowin’ my wild oats’ phase. It helps that I look older, plus most of the women in Ettore’s strip club know who I am, so they don’t ask questions.
Getting kicked out of school was a game-changer. Dante believes violence is my calling. When I consider the easy access to alcohol and stunning women falling over themselves to ‘teach me’ anything and everything I want to know, I’m literally living the dream.
A strange twitching shape behind a giant potted fern catches my eye.
“You’ve got to be shitting me,” I mutter under my breath, taking a sharp left so I can approach him from behind.
It’s Cosmo. He has his dick in his hand and is jacking off into a long piece of silky fabric.
The actual fuck. Is he unscrewed?
Then I follow his line of sight: Carmela, the star of the show.
He’s about to be fucked up… “Evening, Cosmo,” I say cheerfully.
His head whips around to face me, and he spins a little. His fist still wrapped—mid-stroke—around his silk-enswathed cock, which is now pointing at me.
His facial expression would be comical if I wasn’t busy worrying about his primed dick going off.
“Fuck! Chris!” He shoves his worm back in his pants, fumbling to close his zipper and getting the scarf and his shirt stuck in the process.
I grin and crack my knuckles for dramatic effect. He swallows, ripping the silk free and shoving it deep into the pocket of his pants. His eyes go from my hands to something over my shoulder. His throat works again, and all the color leaves his face.
“Tut-tut, Cosmo,” Jero says from behind me. “Your brother is going to be very disappointed.”
Cosmo has been dealt with, bundled in the back of a car, and taken away for his big brother’s judgment. So that’s something to look forward to. Thumping deserving assholes is the absolute best part of this job.
Jero has relaxed somewhat since Cosmo was whipped away. I’m thinking about pushing for the beer he denied me, when I spot Dante in the crowd.
“Going to have a word with my brother.”
Jero gives me a chin lift of acknowledgment.
It’s only when I get closer that I realize Ettore’s sister is hanging all over Dante.
I think about aborting. Dante hates her. He can handle himself—and Helena with her beauty queen curls and too much lip filler—and I can talk to him later. But I’m too late, and she notices me staring.
“Christian,” Helena purrs. Breaking from Dante’s side, she cuts off my escape by sliding her arm around me and squeezing my ass. “Have you gotten taller?”
I’m trying not to breathe in her cloying scent when I glance over her shoulder, and catch Dante’s smirk. I throw him the ‘save me’ look, which he should correctly interpret as ‘save me or I’ll do something stupid’.
“Don’t think so, Helena,” I say cheerfully. “Have your lips gotten plumper?”
Dante makes a choking sound and buries his nose in his glass of champagne.
She laughs it off, her hand sliding up my chest as she leans into me and dips her voice seductively. “Why? Do you like them fuller?”
Nope, you creepy predator.
“Do you mind if I quickly have a private word with my brother?” Dante interrupts, probably sensing I’m about to go off the deep end.
“Don’t forget to find me before you leave.” She pouts at Dante, relinquishes her hold on me, and sashays off.
“That woman is nuts,” I say, which is probably a bit hypocritical coming from me. “Did her husband finally croak or something?”
Dante tips his fluted glass to his lips then grimaces at the taste and pulls it back down—I’m guessing he got a zero alcohol one. “Last week. Her left her with significant debts and she’s already sizing me up as his replacement. I wouldn’t willingly touch her through a hazmat suit, even were it not for Carmela.”
“Weird runs in their family. I just caught Cosmo jacking off behind a potted plant while staring at your girl.”
