Page 19 of Jig's Last Dance
I have my suspicions. Regardless, he was family until that fateful day. And losing him compounded the loss because nothing about my world was normal anymore.
It’s strange for him to be calling me now, but I don’t exactly have anything better to do, so with a fatalistic shrug, I press send. “Hello?”
“Alice?” His deep voice brings images of Sunday dinners. Mom always gave him the head of the table, and every week, I waited by the door for him to arrive, greedy for the gift I knew he would bring.
All the while, I soaked up the attention because I didn’t understand that the very same hands stroking my skin were bloodied by a lifetime of murder, staining the very air around me.
“Hey, um, Uncle Sal,” I fumble.
Ben would have an aneurysm if he knew I was speaking to him, but Dad’s words from long ago ring in my ears.If you’re in trouble and you can’t reach me, call your uncle.
Before they died, I wouldn’t have hesitated, but Ben’s squirrelly attitude toward Uncle Sal leads me to believe I’ve been missing something. Still, Sal is the man who called me his bambina, and right up until my parents died, I half fancied myself in love with the prince who showered me with his attention.
“I haven’t heard from you. I thought you would reach out?” he says, and with a miserable smile, I rub my forehead.
How can I politely respond without ratting out my brother, who hates his guts? We may have been practically family once upon a time, but I don’t think Sal would appreciate the sentiment.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, giving up on a polite response because there isn’t one.
He clucks his tongue. “When will I see my goddaughter? We have much to discuss.”
Like what? I’m not a little girl anymore, and gifts before a family dinner don’t mean shit. What happened to my parents? Why did my world fall apart? These are some of the questions that tremble on my tongue, but I bite them back. I may be ignorant of much that went on between my dad and Sal, but I’ve still heard the rumors.
Sal Castinetti is not a man you trifle with—ever.
Glancing around, I sigh. Maybe I can waste some time while Ben gets his shit together. As long as he doesn’t find out, anyway. “Uh, how about now?”
“Now? Hm, okay. I’ll arrange a ride.”
“Um, could someone pick me up at the bus stop?”
He pauses and I cringe. “What are you doing at a bus stop?”
“I don’t have a car. It’s a long story. Ben’s, um, sort of mad at me.”
Thankfully, he doesn’t comment, but I can just see his dark eyes shining. Ugh. After a moment, he says, “I’ll send someone straight away.”
“Thanks.” After reciting the cross-streets, I close out the phone, and think back to an hour ago when I was curling my lip at the thought of being in the same room with Cyn and his group.
Now I’m walking headfirst into Sal Castinetti’s world, and as head of his mafia family, he’s the king of his underworld.
I have no other choice. Ben backed me into this corner. I have no money, and my inheritance won’t be mine until I turn eighteen. I don’t know what he thinks I’ll do, but his brush-off indicates he doesn’t care.
Maybe I can stay with Sal for a day or two. What’s the harm, other than Ben having a fit? Sal is my godfather, and yes, he’s mafia, but he’s also the man my father considered his closest friend and family.
Now, if you ask Ben, I’m reaching out to the devil. But this very devil was the man my father chose, and even though my stomach sinks at what Ben will perceive as betrayal, I have no one else to turn to.
Am I making another mistake? Sucking in a breath, I shiver even though the air is pleasantly warm.
∞∞∞
I’m picked up straight away and driven to Sal’s home in the back of a fancy town car. When I arrive, Sal is waiting for me. As I approach, he says, “Alice.”
“Um, hey, Uncle Sal,” I say, tripping over my words.
It’s been so long that there’s an awkward clutch in my stomach now. Can we still connect without my parents as a go-between?
He studies me with his black eyes, and I note he’s aged since I last saw him. There are new wrinkles around his eyes, and lines form deep grooves around his mouth.