I looked her in the eye, and I told her the truth.
“It was his mother’s bracelet and now it’s mine.”
Her mouth hung open at that and I left her standing in the middle of the room. When I came out of the shower she was gone, and I vowed that I was done pleasing her. I also told myself I needed to get the fuck out of her house once and for all.
The next morning things went from bad to worse. I was just getting ready to leave the house when I heard Victor’s name be called on the television. I followed the sound and found my mother in the kitchen, a cup of coffee in her hand and her eyes glued to the thirteen-inch T.V. she kept on the counter.
Alleged mob boss, Victor Pastore, has surrendered himself to authorities. Sources say he has confessed to murdering a twenty-four-year-old disc jockey.
I covered my mouth, silencing a gasp and without my mother seeing me, I snuck out the front door. It wasn’t until I got to the corner of our block that I stopped and let myself process what I had overheard. My first instinct was to call Rocco and so that’s what I did. I wanted to know if it was true and if he had known anything about it, but he didn’t answer. In fact, the phone didn’t even ring, all I got was his voicemail.
Any questions I had would have to wait. I pocketed my phone and I started for the train, but the neighborhood was buzzing. It was seven o’clock in the morning and instead of getting their kids off to school with a kiss and a ‘have a nice day’, the housewives of Bensonhurst congregated at the school bus stop, running their mouths.
Did you hear?
Oh my God, his poor wife.
I knew he had something to do with that shooting.
His daughters must be devastated.
The men in the neighborhood were no better. I walked into the corner store to grab a coffee and guy behind the counter was talking to the man who owned the butcher shop three doors own.
Watch and you’ll see the neighborhood is going to go to shit now.
There’s going to be a war for his territory.
The longshoremen are fucked.
Who do you think is gonna takeover? My money is on Bianci now that Jimmy Gold is gone.
I took a newspaper, paid for that and my coffee and got the hell out of there as fast as I could. But there was no escaping the news. Victor’s face was plastered on the front page. I didn’t read the article until I was on the train.
It turns out Victor was being extradited back to New York, that he had turned himself into the Miami police. As soon as I read that, I knew Rocco was involved somehow. I skimmed the entire newspaper looking for any mention of his name, but I got nothing.
I went on with my day and by the time I got home there was still no word from Rocco. The whole fucking week passed, and he never called. Saturday came and went and guess what? He never showed to take me to dinner. It’s the start of a new week and all I know is what I read in the papers and see on the news and today it wasn’t Victor who made the front page of the papers, it was Rocco.
The newly minted don of the Pastore Crime Family.
“Violet, may I have a word?”
Ms. Beecher’s voice quickly forces me out of my head, and I turn to face her, hiking my bag on my shoulder. Meeting her gaze, I try to prepare myself for the verbal berating I’m sure she’s about to deliver to me.
“Yes?”
“I don’t need to remind you that the company production try outs are in two weeks. If you want to be on the stage at Lincoln Center, you are going to need to perfect your form and lose at least ten pounds.”
It isn’t the first time she’s commented on my weight. The sad thing is, I’m a hundred and twenty pounds and at five three that’s hardly reason to sound the alarms. But unlike every other ballerina in the academy, I have hips and an ass.
“No, you don’t need to remind me,” I reply, trying my hardest not to sound like a bitch. “I’ve been working overtime to make sure I’m ready for the performance.”
Lies.
I’ve been working overtime catching up on the mob.