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I do everything asked of me and yet, they still have Shana holding my hand through important decisions. I can't stand this shit. This life. The inadequacy of knowing I'm never going to be her pushes a wave of nausea down my body.
"Easy, Evil. You look like you're about to puke. Wait until you see who's coming to dinner."
I don't like the tone in her voice. "Who?"
"Alessandro."
The mere mention of Alessandro De Luca's name strikes fear in the bravest of men and the hardest of criminals around this city. His temper is notorious, and his vengeance is lethal. I'd also be fucking blind to ignore the fact that he's the sexiest mafioso to ever walk the streets of New York. Still, that doesn't mean I want him coming to dinner.
Wait.
"Shay, what are we bringing to the dinner party? The vineyard?" I ask her, with concern creeping up my spine. Sometimes, the Rossi name can be synonymous with wine, but the Rossis of La Familia? We have prime Midtown Manhattan real estate from 70th to 90th Street. We call it the vineyard because the best temperature to grow grapes is between 77 and 90 degrees. A running joke between the Families.
"The dinner party is going to need a lot more than wine. Dad doesn't think the vineyard is enough. We need everyone not invited to know that this is more than a Family dinner. You'll know more once you leave here. Any word on him?" Shana peers down to the plain gold band donning her ring finger.
The jewelry she prefers to wear, including the massive diamond engagement ring and matching band, sits in our mother's jewelry safe. Prison life, no matter how much protection Shana has, is no place for opulence.
"Time's up, Martin!" the guard calls from the door.
It doesn't feel like we've been there long, twenty minutes at the most. Yet, it doesn't seem like enough time.
"I don't know where the sleazebag is and I don't care. He's a fucking guttersnipe who took off on you, his kids, his fucking family!" The sound of my hand slamming against the table ricochets around the room. It gets the guard's attention and brings tears to Shana's eyes.
"You don't understand, Evelyn. You couldn't possibly understand what I'd do for him and what he'd do for me."
"Don't be delusional." I sniff back tears I don't remember letting fall. "The fact that you're in here and he's not says all you need to know about what he'd do for you."
"When you love someone as much as this, there's nothing that can convince you of anything else. I know he'll come around. We've been together fifteen years, since we were kids. He's not going to abandon us. Just watch."
It sounds like she's trying to convince herself more than me as she wipes her tears with her sleeve, smudging her makeup and dirtying her jumpsuit. Still, she is the picture of perfection. Even as a convict, my perfect sister gets up from the table ready to head back into a life I don't want to imagine.
"What if he doesn't, Shay?"
She turns to me, glancing over her shoulder. "Then I'll take care of it when I come home."
The words sound like she's coming home next week, like this is some business trip. Suddenly, the walls, these horribly painted, grey concrete walls of a correctional facility holding my sister, feel like they're closing in on me. I have to get out of here.
I keep my composure long enough to leave the building, the grounds, and head toward the parking lot where Jenkins is waiting beside the car. The level of protection Jenkins gives me rivals the Secret Service, and I wouldn't have it any other way. He's been like a surrogate father to me many times, saving my neck and keeping me out of trouble since I first tried playing hooky.
The memory flashes like it was yesterday. Silly little thirteen-year-old me cutting school to hang out with Bobby Canastis, who had a crush on Shana, of course. He brought me to a house where all the kids partied, hoping my sister would come for me and hang out, too. Shana never showed up.
Jenkins, I don't even think he has a last name, kicked in the door. He's tall, even taller back then, towering over a bunch of horny teenagers looking to set me up to call my sister. Jenkins found me in the kitchen, wrapped an arm around me, and walked me out of the house.
Staring at him now, my body shakes the minute he opens the door, and he catches me before I fall.
"She doesn't belong in there, Jenkins," I tell him, tears spilling freely in the late afternoon sun.
"I know, Evelyn. We're working on a few things."
I take a step back, eyeing him as feelings of betrayal ripple through me. "Who is 'we'? How is it that everyone else in this Family knows what's going on before I do? Am I not important enough? What the fuck do I have to do?"
"Nothing, but get in the car. I'm under orders to bring you to your father."
I push away from him. All my paternal emotions for him are evaporating because no matter how many times he protects me, it's his job. He's paid to be here. I slide into the back seat and pull out a compact to fix my makeup.
Jenkins runs his hand through his dark brown hair, smoothing it to the back with a single swipe. His dark brown eyes zero in on me from the rearview mirror as he pulls out of the parking lot and gets me off this damn island. My mind wanders, thinking about everything and then about nothing as we zip around evening rush hour and come to a stop in front of Saint Christopher's Cathedral.
My heart steadily thumps against my chest as I turn to Jenkins after I step out of the car. "I thought we were going to dinner."
