Page 227 of Vicious Saint
He waves me off, turning to the front of the truck, then pulling onto the street.
With my head pressed against the window, I examine my new necklace as we make our way through Manhattan traffic, listening to Carlo ramble on about his city in Sicily.
“You would love all of the-eh…” He pauses. “Come si dice?”
Portraits? Sculptures? Ceramics?
It’s pretty obvious what he’s been referring to.
“Museums.”
“Ah!Sí.Museums.”
I chuckle to myself, allowing him to proceed with his rant, until finally we’re turning into the parking lot of Riverside. Dread takes over immediately when I spot Saint’s Range Rover right behind us.
Why? Why does the universe want to test me today?
Carlo pulls into a spot first, and regardless of the dozens of empty spots available, Saint swerves to a stop next to us. Then, as if preparing for a street race, he revs the engine in challenge.
As always with the endless dick measuring, Carlo challenges him right back, making me sink into my seat with embarrassment.
You’d think weeks of Saint and I on the outs would lessen the middle aged man and eighteen year old’s petty rivalry.
“Really?” I scold him, not daring to sneak a peek into the Range Rover.
“Your brother…he do it first,” Carlo responds like a petulant child, then jumps out of the car.
Shaking my head at a grown, whole ass mobster’s pettiness, I swing open the door, refusing to wait for Carlo to do it for me.
“Signorina…aspetta…” He rushes to grab my hand, always stressing the appropriateness of helping me out of his truck.
“Nowaitingfor you tonight, mister.” I poke him in the chest, then take off, leaving him to my shopping bags in case I need to utilize my fists.
I can’t see him, but I hear Saint as he shuts the door, muttering grits and growls to Carlo before the thumps of his sneakers press the pavement. When the thumps grow louder, I pick up the pace to the female dorms.
Light footsteps approach behind me, even faster than Saint’s, and I’d be relieved if I didn’t already know it’s the lesser of two evils.
“Hey there,Hendrix,” Theory calls out, falling in stride wearing the same fucking boots I just bought to spite her.
Not a single break today, huh universe?
Unless I count Saint’s stare on my ass from several feet behind us.
Eyes glued ahead, I sigh, “What do you want, Theory?”
“Oh, just a quick question.”
“Well, get on with it, then.”
“So…I was helping Daddy file some papers earlier in his office, you know, mostly family docs, birth certificates, social security.”
We stop together at the entrance.
“Okay?”
Theory eyes the handle expectantly, so I do the honors of ripping the door open and nearly smacking her with it.
“Well,” she proceeds as if she didn’t just jump out of the way of a concussion, “I came across a folder with your stuff.”
