Page 372 of Vicious Saint
My heart has been pounding and my hands have been shaking through the entire train ride from Chelsea, but I refuse to allow nerves to outweigh my determination to do what should have been done the second I was healed enough to get out of bed.
And that’s to get the revenge that Carlo deserves.
Besides, when everyone is convinced you’re crazy, what’s the point in wasting time not playing the part?
The city buzzes with life, and I slip through the masses as casually as one can while hiding a gun in the front pocket of a stolen hoodie. Which I knew was fucked up when I spotted it lying next to a sleeping homeless guy…but I’m not taking any chances getting caught by Big Brother stepfather.
So, for the last five minutes since exiting the train station, I’ve been making sure to keep my hood up, head down, and face away from the cameras lining the poles.
I’m five steps away from Dover Street when sweat pools at my neck, and my already pounding heart turns to furious bangs—because this means it’s only one more turn of a corner before I’m standing in front of Valeriya’s.
When I land on the street, I find it’s dim compared to the main ones, and it works in my favor.
The first round of second-guessing appears in flashed faces as I spot the restaurant:
My mother’s. Then Auntie. Even Bex with Archer.
Saint’s face follows right after, his crystal blue eyes pleading with me like they did earlier, and it damn near kills me.
Tears sting my eyes, knowing after tonight, chances are I won’t be getting lost in them ever again.
For a split second I consider turning around and running back into Saint’s arms that used to ground me, in hopes they’re still able to in spite of what he’s done.
The sad part is, I know they would, because deep down in my heart of hearts I’ve already forgiven him for his mistakes. Even if one of them includes my best friend.
Maybe it’s the fear of death talking, or the crazy, but just like the secret Saint kept about my father, I know if there’s any truth to what Annalie said, there has to be a valid reason for him to keep it from me.
It’s at this moment I realize this isn’t Saint’s face flashing in front of my eyes, it’s the personification of my entire life.
The good, bad, and ugly.
My feet are on the brink of turning around when another flash appears, this time of Carlo. His smile, his laugh, him with his arm outstretched holding open a door for me.
I hear his voice in my head, and it’s all encompassing, calling mesignorinaand asking me to correct his English:
“Pee…cuk?” Carlo shakes his head. “Oh, no, signorina. I no fall for it. You try to make-eh me say the funny word.”
“No, I’m not!” I laugh, pointing to where the bird is wide feathering us from behind the zoo fence. “That’s how you say peacock!”
“You do the same thing with the man’s name.”
“Dick really is short for Richard, Carlo!”
“Uffa!” He waves me off. “Let’s-eh go. You play too many the games.”
Tears fall, and my heart crumbles to pieces as I picture him reading the signs of every animal exhibit in Central Park Zoo, failing miserably at pronouncing the names.
The zoo was another attempt of Carlo’s to cheer me up after Saint and I cut ties the first time.
A long list of attempts following after.
Animals and signs begin to fade into a vision of dancing flames, growing quickly into a blazing fire coming from Carlo’s Escalade.
His charred remains.
His broken cornicello necklace.
Whatever consideration I had for turning around melts into blinding shades of orange and black.
