Page 93 of Vicious Saint
“Hendrix, would you stop?”
“I don’t know...last time you ignored a call in front of me you ended up marrying the person on the other end two months later.”
The phone starts to ring again and she slams a hand down on the table, making me, along with the maid sweeping behind us, jump.
“Stop worrying about things that don’t concern you!” She slides her chair back and stands, neck turning red the same way mine does when I’m on edge. “Including my calls and how Vic is dealing with his son.”
One never does grow immune to whiplash. It’s why I’ve been reduced to slow blinking when Mom takes off, announcing she’s going to take a shower.
“Yeah…okay. You do that.”
“By the way…” She pauses her steps. “You will not be staying at a hotel, Hendrix. You will be staying here where you belong and that’s final.”
The muscles of my throat tighten as I jump out of the chair. “The fuck I am.”
“The fuck you are is right!” Mom turns around and shouts, making every maid but Darla scurry out of the room. “The Lavells are your family, now, whether you like it or not. So you better start acting like it.”
“Mom!”
“I will have Carlo go and get your things,” she says in a tone so dismissive it makes me want to chuck pork at her head.
“Who the fuck is Carlo?”
“Your new driver.”
A driver. Like really?
My feet worked just fine before she got married.
And just fine this morning when I got onto the train by Bex’s building.
As if being summoned, a middle aged man appears in the doorway, wearing gray slacks, suspenders, and a blank expression.
She holds a hand out. “Hendrix, meet Carlo.”
“Buongiorno, signorina.”
I smile tightly at him.
“Really, Mom? Al Pacino? What is this,The Godfather?”
She lets out a tsk. “Oh, please. Pacino is way older.”
“Not in part three,” I hiss. “Now tell him to fuck off, or I will.”
“I will do nothing of the sort. Carlo’s new to the country, eager to work, and more than qualified for the job.”
“Oh, yeah. Because it takes a master’s degree to play chauffeur.”
“Hendrix, I said enough.” Her rigid tone resurfaces. “There is no reason for you to continue taking the subways of Manhattan. Not when we have the means to get you around safely.”
Sure, maybe the mansion resides two train stops away from a sketchy neighborhood, but we’re not close enough to justify being this neurotic.
After all, thanks toSafeguard Technical Solutions, you’d have a better chance of getting into Fort Knox than the Lavells’ limestone mansion. I counted at least six cameras planted outside, even keycodes to get me through the door.
“Look on the bright side…he can teach you more Italian to prepare for your dream vacation.”
Ugh, leverage. It’s what I get for being stupid enough to agree to watchLa Dolce Vitawith Mom and Auntie.
