Body of Trust - Jeannine Colette Page 0,2
she’s dying to say. “So, Jesse, Amelia and I were talking about where to go tonight.”
I lift my head. “We were?”
“Yes,” she says adamantly and continues, “we were thinking of hitting up Club Elektra. It’s in an abandoned warehouse in Williamsburg. You should come.”
I cringe at the thought. Clubs are not my cup of tea. Neither is excessive drinking, pills, strobe lights, or the sweaty, unwanted hands of men who are seeking a partner on the dance floor.
Jesse narrows his eyes, as if he’s trying to read my reaction. “I’m not a club kind of guy. Plus, there’s a no-fraternization policy here. Staff and members can’t hang out.”
“That’s a shame,” Sienna says with a puppy-dog face.
“Sorry, ladies. Give me a minute.” Jesse’s attention is drawn to the back of the room, where Uncle Frankie is holding up a hand, asking for more drinks for him and the men he’s with. Jesse knows to drop everything and take care of him.
Uncle Frankie is demanding in that respect. He commands a sort of loyalty from everyone around him, including my father, who is standing beside him. The two aren’t brothers but are so close that they consider each other family, and therefore, they have bestowed titles of familial distinction onto the other. Come to think of it, as I look around the room, I can count at least ten uncles here who aren’t related to me by blood.
Uncle Frankie and my father are deep in conversation. They’re close talkers, and they use their hands in a dramatic fashion, even when what they’re discussing is as simple as the weather. With their finely threaded suits and combed-back hair, they look like they came right out of the movie Goodfellas. An outsider would say they’re the epitome of Italian Mafioso, picturing airport heists, cocaine distribution, and Joe Pesci killing another man for mentioning he once shined shoes as a kid.
But that’s only in the movies. While money does slide under the table for personal favors, it’s nothing like the mob of the past. What we have here is one big Italian family. A little unconventional, but they’re the only family I’ve ever known.
“All right, I’m out of here.” Sienna swallows the rest of her drink.
“Where are you going?” I ask, surprised.
“I have a date. Call me after dinner, and we’ll hook up.” She lifts her clutch off the bar and then gives me two air kisses, one on each cheek. “Later, girl. Oh, and don’t tell my dad I have a date. Tell him I’m having cake at a friend’s house for her birthday. If he asks who, just say Jessica. I know, like, seven Jessicas.” She puts her glass down and then waves to Jesse, who has reappeared, as she bounces out of the restaurant.
Like a girl in the aftermath of a tornado, I have to collect myself.
“She’s a whirlwind, huh?” Jesse asks as he makes drinks.
“The Tasmanian devil is more like it,” I say with a laugh.
“She’ll be hard to keep up with at the club tonight.” He smirks, his gaze roaming quickly around the room.
“Oh, no, I won’t be going to any club. The idea of being in a sweat box with a few hundred people who are too high to know where they are is my idea of hell.”
His smirk deepens. “Good to know. I was worried that cringe you made was at the thought of me actually joining you.”
“I would have loved it if you came,” I say way too easily and am mortified. “Not love. I would have just had more fun if you came. But not too much because I hate clubs.”
“That’s because you haven’t been to a club with the right person.”
He turns and serves a couple on the other side of the square-shaped bar, chatting with them for a minute.
I take a moment to check myself. Mostly my nervousness, which is completely out of character. I’m not the nervous type. And I definitely don’t fumble over my words. It’s his eyes. They’re like turquoise gems of hypnosis.
“There’s my pride and joy!” a deep baritone bellows. My father, Raphael Sorrentino, looks handsome in his suit as he walks toward me. The man might work in sanitation, but he’s dressed to the nines every day.
I hop off the stool and give him a kiss hello. “Hi, Daddy. Mom and Gia are on their way. Gia’s dance class ran long.”
“Maronna mia, how can those two be late for everything and you’re always here on time?”
“Must take after my