Page 63 of Under the Influence

“Maybe, we’ll see,” I say, privately thinking I would rather cut down my visits. “Where are my brothers?” I say awkwardly, trying to change the subject conversation.

“Gennaro and Claudio are with your father, Massimo is out… With that whore probably.”

“I’m surprised you haven’t fixed him up with one of papa’s friend’s daughters.”

“Soon, let him have his five minutes of fun first,” she says airily.

“I’ve got an appointment in the city, I’ve got to run.” I say hastily.

“We’ll await the dinner invitation at Long Beach,” Ma says, slyly.

“But don’t forget to visit us again soon,” Zia says, cradling me as I pinch my nostrils to block the pungent alcohol smell.

I walk out of the house, feeling a sense of relief that I am no longer living there. Just one visit has made me realize just how much I have blossomed being free from the oppressive nature of my parents.

“Where are you?” Rocco says as my phone buzzes, and I answer.

“I just left my parents’ house. They’re expecting a dinner invitation soon.”

“What did you say?” He asks hesitantly.

“Nothing, I could hardly say I would rather put my head in the oven than have them over for dinner.”I say sarcastically.

“Well, I can.” He snorts. “I can imagine your ma wiping her fingers over the countertops looking for dust.”

“I wonder how long we can put it off for,” I say, exhaling out slowly.

“Maybe they’ll forget about it.”

“Hopefully, but my ma has a memory like an elephant, so I doubt it.”

“Are you on your way home?”

“I’ve got a hair appointment, so I’ll be back later.”

“Don’t stay in the city too late, it’s not safe after dark. I would be happier if you let Damon be your driver.”

“I don’t need a bodyguard, I’ll be fine.”

“Okay, I’ll be home late. I have work to do,” he says smoothly.

I don’t ask what work he is doing, and he doesn’t tell me. I am fully aware of what line of work it probably is. Rocco never gave details of what he was doing over the phone, he was always aware that there might be someone listening to things they shouldn’t be. Although I knew what Rocco did for a living,his presence was neveras threatening or as suffocating as Papa’s. When we first came back from Capri, I was holding my breath that there would be nights when he didn’t come home or times when I wouldn’t know what he was doing, but Rocco has always been straight with me. Something that has erupted an inkling of guilt for which I can’t do the same.

“What do you want for dinner?”

“As long as you’re the one that’s cooking, anything.” He chuckles.

“My ma will be happy that you like my cooking.”

“I like it a littletoomuch. I need to up my cardio if I’m going to keep eating your meals.”

“I have a few ideas to improve your cardio levels.” I reply, invitingly.

“Something to think about tonight,” I say smirking as I hang up the call.

“Aren’t they adorable?” Damon says mockingly, glancing at me sideways.

“What?” I say impassively, in an effort to brush off their teasing.

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