Page 570 of Not Over You

Michele put his hand on her shoulder, but she shrugged it off, the best she could. His face was blank when he looked at me, except for his mouth, which tried to dislodge a piece of food.

The air outside was warm, and I took a seat on the stoop. I rubbed a hand over my face and leaned over my knees, letting my fingers dangle. It must have been ten minutes later when the smell of her perfume met me before she did.

Unc was carrying Minnie. Lucila followed with her empty bag in her hand. She hadn’t taken the bunny.

She looked over her shoulder at me when she got to the last step. “I’ll be back to pick it up tomorrow from your parents.”

I said nothing, watching as she slid into the back seat of the cab. Unc set Minnie next to her, and Lucila wrapped an arm around her, pulling her even closer. A few seconds later, she disappeared into the night.

Another cab flew down the street. A small whirlwind spun behind it, a few leaves and something else caught in it. That something made me move. I hustled to get to it before it disappeared like the woman in the cab.

A fucking candy wrapper.

Taking a seat on the stoop again, I lifted it, studying it like it held the cure to my disease. I studied it like I studied every move she made—now and then.

LILO

THE PAST

“What are you doing here?” Ken Nolan almost hisses at me.

He’s the principal of Lucila’s school. He also dabbles in things he’s not supposed to. I know things about this man that will not only get him fired but could get him locked up.

“I’m here for information, Ken,” I say, taking a seat across from him.

His desk is full of smiling faces. His wife and kids. I wonder how she’d feel about all the prostitutes he spends his money on. He looks at the picture and then at me. He reads my mind. He nods and takes a seat.

“What do you want to know, Valentino?”

“Lucila Girardi.”

His face tightens before it eases. “What about her?”

“I want to know everything.”

His eyes scan the room before they land on me again. He’s openly sweating. “I could lose my job for this,” he whispers.

“You’ll lose your life if you decide to keep quiet.”

“Despite what you know about me. What you think of me. I do care about these kids.”

Our eyes hold. He’s telling the truth.

I nod. “This is personal. Won’t go any further than me.”

He’s still uncomfortable. He’s fidgeting with shit on his desk. As soon as he resigns himself to his fate—a former student being in control—he sighs and sits back with a stress ball. It balloons on each side like a pair of nuts when he squeezes it. It’s a pretty accurate representation, given the state of his life at this moment

“I grew up with Sonny Girardi. That’s Lucila’s—”

“I know who he is.”

He nods. “We played in the streets together. We went to school together. A real rebel without a cause, though always quiet about it. He fought when he had to, but he never provoked anything. He just always wanted to live life on his terms. His mom and dad were good people, but strict. He was an only child, and his mom always worried something bad would happen to him. His dad went along with whatever she wanted. That sort of thing. Not bad people, just strict, like I said. Real worriers.”

He squeezes the ball, and it balloons on one side and then the other. His wrist strains with it. “All the girls liked him in school, but none of them seemed to keep his attention. Last year of high school, a new student transferred from—who the fuck knows where she came from now? All I remember is tits and legs and an ass worth drooling over. First name Janis. Irish last name. Can’t remember that, either. Wait. I do!” He points the ball at me.

“Hickey. We used to joke about who’d get a hickey from Nicky. Yeah, I know. Lame. But her middle name is Nicole…Nicky. Anyway, she was a real wild child. Flowers in her hair and sex on the school lawn kind of wild.”

Squeeze. Balloon. Squeeze. Balloon.

---