Page 27 of I.O.U.

Chapter Twelve - Delilah

At least I can walk around today.

It reminds me of when I was younger. When we were first on our own, after Mom went out and never came back. Going to the store, knowing I didn’t have a cent but knowing I needed food for Deanna and me, too. By the time the lightheadedness was too much to stand, I had to go out and do something.

So I went to the corner store and stole a package of donuts. It was the only thing I could fit under my sweatshirt without looking obvious. After that, I made it a habit. Never visiting the same store more than once in a single week. Buying a little something with spare change we hunted in the apartment to make my visit look legit while carrying Slim Jims and protein bars and anything else I could slip into my pockets.

And all the time, I’d have to bear the weight of a suspicious shopkeeper’s stare. That was the worst part by far. The morals of the situation never bothered me—it was steal or starve, end of story. Morals were for people with money and mothers who didn’t go out one night and forget to come home to her twin teenagers.

But having to pretend I wasn’t casing the place before coming back to steal a few days’ worth of food? That was torture. Playing it cool. Reminding myself not to make too much eye contact, but to not avoid all eye contact, either. That would be just as suspicious.

Here I am again, only the stakes are higher. This isn’t stealing food from a bodega. This is casing the home of a mafia boss while always under the eye of one guard or another. These guys have guns, for Christ’s sake. But just like before, I’m doing it for not only myself. Deanna needs me.

“Good morning.” Rob grunts in response, standing at the foot of the stairs. “I’m sorry for all the trouble I gave you yesterday. No hard feelings?” He grunts again, this time with his brows knitting together in obvious confusion. So long as he doesn’t see me as the enemy. I might need a friend who’s willing to look the other way.

Nora’s all smiles when I wander into the sunny kitchen. “I was hoping to see you today,” she says, going to the sink to wash dough from her hands. I don’t know what she’s making, but I’d bet it’ll be orgasmically delicious. The woman is gifted.

“I’m feeling better today.” It sounds lame. I don’t know why I care so much what she thinks. Maybe because she seems nice and kind and I haven’t known too many people like that.

“Hungry?”

“Starved.”

“Scrambled?”

“Please.” I take a seat at the counter and pick out an orange. “And thank you.”

“You’re so polite,” she observes while cracking eggs into a bowl. “It’s unusual.”

“Around here, you mean?”

She scowls and shakes her head before reaching for a whisk. “Forget I said it. It’s none of my business.” She adds a dollop of sour cream to the eggs before beating them together. I don’t want to push her—she seems so sweet and doesn’t need the pressure. Still, she might be full of useful information. Like how many girls does Luca bring to the house? What happens to them? Am I going to be just one of many, somebody whose face and name will be forgotten like the others?

“Does Mr. Bruno eat breakfast early?” I hear him in his study. He must be on the phone, since his is the only voice I hear. I can’t make out what he’s saying, but there’s no mistaking the bitterness in how he’s saying it.

“Oh, yes. He’s normally up and ready to begin work before dawn. I make sure to leave yogurt and fruit prepared in the refrigerator so he has something to eat.” She looks almost fond as she turns toward the pan heating up on the stove. “I told him I’m happy to get to the kitchen earlier so he can have something hot, but he wouldn’t hear of it. Said he doesn’t want me rearranging my schedule for him.”

It reminds me of something he said last night. “You’ve been cooking for the family for a long time, huh?”

“Oh, yes. Years and years. Since Mr. Bruno was a little boy.” There’s no missing the love in her voice. She doesn’t see the man he is now. She remembers the little boy she loved. The part of me that’s still resentful and scared wonders how she’d feel if I gave her the heads up on what her boss is really like nowadays.

But no. She’s never hurt me. I doubt she’s ever hurt anybody. She doesn’t deserve it.

I want to ask what things are usually like around here, but she presents a plate of perfectly scrambled eggs and a thick slice of cinnamon raisin toast and whoops, everything else flies out the window. Right now I’d rather eat.

“What are your plans today?” she asks, going back to her kneading. It’s hypnotic, the way she handles the dough, pushing it away from her with the heels of both hands before flipping it over and repeating the motions.

Plans? I almost want to laugh. “I thought I’d walk around outside for a while. Maybe I’ll explore the library.”

“You like to read?” When I nod, she smiles. “I thought so. You strike me as a smart girl. Thoughtful. There’s certainly plenty to choose from in there.”

“I can’t wait to dig in.” I look down at the now empty plate and laugh at myself. Even the orange is history. “Speaking of digging in…”

“You need a little meat on your bones, young lady.” She winks before taking the plate away. “Can I interest you in more?”

“I think I’ll wait until lunch.” I can’t help but giggle as I hop down from the stool. “Careful, or you’ll spoil me.”

“That’s my favorite thing to do.” Yes, and I’ve never really been spoiled, either. I guess that’s why it’s nice now. I can almost forget how miserable this whole situation is. I can pretend I’m here because I’m Luca’s girlfriend or whoever Nora thinks I am.

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