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Promise me, baby.
And remember.
We always keep our promises.
My father's last words play in my mind like a haunting melody, and it takeseverythingjust to push them away.
It's all in the past, Cat.
All in the past.
And you have to live for the present.
Or at least that's what I keep telling myself, and continue telling myself now, when the present doesn't feelreal.It's as if I'm living someone's life, and I'm only doing things that people expect me to do.
Like now.
Mr. Intoxicated is already half-asleep when we make it to the nearest couch, and I have another item ticked off in my mental to-do list.
Possible drunken antics, averted.
He's already started snoring even before I've taken my CB radio out of my purse to call for backup, and a pair of security arrives in mere moments.
"What do you need us to do, boss?"
I can only roll my eyes. "Be serious, please? And just our usual SOP. Undisturbed rest for as long as possible, and absolutely no photographs." The inability to hold one's liquor is a sign of weakness in the eyes offamiglia,but it won't do the Marchettis any good to have this man's reputation suffer while attending one of our events.
"Aye, aye, Captain."
I shake my head at them before walking away and looking for other things I can help with. It's already been months, but those guys still get a kick out of treating me as their team captain. And fine, Iwasthat, but in Counterstrike!
The rest of the evening plays out like it usually does, and I spend most of it putting out fires before trouble can start rearing its horns.
I'm that person who's always where the action is, but no one really sees, and so I get away with doing things without anyone getting offended. A female guest loses her temper, but I've already swiped the glass out of her hand before she can throw its contents on the other guest. A formercapohas had enough with a reckless up-and-comer who has more braggadocio than sense, and I'm there to soothe the understandably ruffled feathers of a seasonedmafiosowhile at the same time motioning for security to lead our young offender away before he ends up getting whacked.
To be invisible is neither good nor bad.
It's just what I am.
It's just what I'm used to.
And it's always worked in my favor—-until now.
From the pool deck above, a world-famous DJ spins a new track. "Let's get wild," he yells.
And everyone actually does what he says.
Our younger guests jump to their feet and start dancing and throwing their hands up in the air like they just don't care.
It's pure chaos.
Which is good for the Marchettis, except...
Someone accidentally shoves me in his energetic desire to move to the beat, and because I'm the kind of person that no one sees—-
Nothing changes even if I'm the one who now needs help.
No one sees me even when I'm about to fall aboard.
