Page 325 of Vicious Saint
“Don’t-ehyou worry now,signorina, you have-ehthe cornicello,” Carlo reassures me through the rearview mirror. “It brings you the protection…yes…but also the good luck.” He pinches his thumb and forefinger. “So everything will be A-Okay.”
On instinct my fingers squeeze the gold horn. I may not be a believer of Italian superstitions, but I also won’t deny any help they have to offer.
“You make-ehsuch-ehbeautiful pictures. This man…he will see. If not…” Carlo winks. “Then I make-ehhim see.”
“Relax there, Vito Corleone.” I chuckle, shaking my head, and just like every other time I make a Godfather reference, Carlo follows up with a quote from the movie. This time being “an offer he can’t refuse.”
It’s funny in theory, but in reality? Not so much.
Because I know, like the movie, Carlo has used similar methods of persuasion, he’s also proven he wouldn’t hesitate to use the worst of them for me if I asked.
But I refuse to have a poor horse’s head on my conscience.
Other than Carlo’s occasional outburst when a driver cuts him off, the car remains silent the rest of the way. I watch as buildings on top of buildings pass in a blur as we speed down the West Side Highway, cracking the window open to stop me from sweating even though it’s nineteen degrees outside.
“Here we go.” Carlo whistles as he circles an exit off the highway, leading us straight onto the street of the campus.
My breath hitches when the large main campus comes into view: a beautiful gothic style building surrounded by arches and greenery, two times the size of Riverside Prep. In front of it stands a huge rectangular in-ground fountain, known as The Fountain for All, which doubles as a free splash pad for local families during the summer.
Cherry trees scatter throughout the lawn, dormant, but that doesn’t stop me from picturing myself shaded under one on a sunny day. Sheet spread over the grass, pencil in hand, working on assignments or simply drawing for the hell of it. Maybe even having a lunch date with Saint when he visits.
“Holy moly…” I gape as we drive toward the South Campus, where the buildings may be more modern, but nonetheless beautiful.
I can feel it in my bones—I’m meant to be here.
Carlo does the Italian version of gawking, mostly with hand gestures as we approach the empty parking lot, and doesn’t stop until we’re out of the car, standing at the entrance of the Administrative building, waiting for Vic’s friend Mike to greet us.
I use this time wisely, angling my phone just right to catch the view behind me, and snap my “before” selfie for Saint, quickly sending it in response to the one of him posing right before kickoff. Then I proceed to type out something quick for him to read after the game.
Me: Knock ’em dead Letterman…but not literally cuz I kinda love you stupid.
Me: Catch you on the flip side.
“How are you feeling,signorina?” Carlo asks as I shove my phone into the pocket of my coat.
“Like I could really use a cigarette.”
And almost regretting the decision not to smoke one until after the interview.Almost.
Because first impressions are everything, and nothing says “I’m shit out of luck” like a man who may hate cigarettes being forced to smell it on me for an hour in the confines of his office.
Something Carlo is actively reminding me of as one of the double doors to the entrance is pushed open.
“Hendrix Montgomery?” A middle aged man with salt and pepper hair greets us. To my surprise…in jeans and a polo.Nota fancy suit.
“That’s me.” I smile nervously and wave, then inwardly curse myself for being such a dork.
“Hello, I’m Mr. Fitzgerald, but you can call me Mike.” The man ushers me with an outstretched hand, but I get a strong arm from Carlo to stop me.
I’m cursing again, but this time under my breath in Italian as I listen to Carlo explain his need to search the guy first.
Vic informed his friend about the protocol already, but it doesn’t make my job of having to translate for Carlo any less awkward.
“I’m really sorry but Carlo, mybodyguard, is asking if he could search you first.”
Mike slaps himself on the side of the head. “Of course, yes. Vic did mention this.”
“Please don’t take it personally. It’s just…”
