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Stepping out of the shower, I dry off quickly and pull on a pair of swim trunks. I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. My body is a map of tattoos, each one a reminder of the life I live. But for the first time, I wonder what Addy really sees when she looks at me. Do I still terrify her?
Would she be more comfortable if things were more nuanced, more hidden? If I pretended to be a good man like the devil she likes to call daddy? Did Benjamin choose a clean-skinned man like himself for her?
But there’s no fucking point in what-ifs. Addy’s getting me, and she’ll have to get used to me.
No hiding, no shadows. Just all of me.
With a towel slung around my neck, I head toward the pool area. The faint scent of chlorine grows stronger with each step, bringing me closer to her. I can feel my heart rate picking up again, anticipation building with every moment.
A week has never felt so long.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Adele
I trace my finger along the cool, damp surface of my iced tea—which is more ice than tea—watching the condensation bead and roll down the crystal tumbler. Chlorine-scented air fills my lungs as I take a deep breath, my eyes wandering over the shimmering surface of the Olympic-sized pool. Sophie’s rhythmic strokes break the water’s stillness, her lithe form cutting through in a rapid yet graceful front crawl.
“Gosh, Addy, I feel like such a fraud,” Kira mutters, stretching beside me on one of the white leather chaise lounges lined by the pool.
I take my eyes off Sophie and turn to face Kira fully. My friend’s profile is set against the backdrop of gleaming tiles and tropical plants. The recessed lighting accentuates the furrow in her brow.
“Why do you say that, Kira?”
She pushes her slipping sunglasses back up her nose. “Because all my friends are refusing to book new gigs and going around like someone kicked their puppy to death while I’m there trying to remember to mourn, unable to tell them it’s not that big of a deal.”
“Really? Your friends are grieving for me?” Apart from Zedd, I don’t really know Kira’s DJ friends that well. I certainly didn’t imagine they’d react that way to news of my demise.
It’s been seven days since the world declared me dead in that car explosion and six days since Dante and Sal left for DC. I still can’t believe how soon it took the Outfit to find out who he was and where to find the bomber.
Apart from scattered mentions of the incident on TV, I’ve had no way of knowing how the news has been received. I’m desperate to see what social media and my blog followers are saying about my death. But for now, my days are spent with Sophie and Aydin, while my nights are filled with longing.
When Kira, my last connection to the world I used to know, showed up this morning, smuggled in by Falzone and Aydin just before dawn, I’d nearly wept with joy.
Kira snorts. “Babe. You were blown to pieces right in front of them. Of course, they’re traumatized and grieving.”
I nod. “It’s true what they say about friends and family, right? They are the ones that suffer.”
Kira’s lips turn down as she swirls her glass of cranberry punch, the ice cubes clinking softly. “I dunno. My best friend has never fake-died before, so I have no frame of reference here. I miss you, though.”
“I know. Are things crazy back home?” I ask.
Kira shrugs and takes another sip of her drink. “Like you wouldn’t believe. There are so many flowers, and the place smells like a rose garden. Condolences from neighbors I didn’t even realize lived in our building. And don’t get me started on Twitter. Zedd took it the hardest. I think he’s doing a whole soundtrack dedicated to your memory.”
I groan, my head falling back against the lounge chair. “Great. I’ll be memorialized in EDM. And I spent a total of what, two hours with the guy?”
“I know,” Kira grins. “I think when Zedd falls, he falls hard. But I could think of worse things. At least he’s not a songwriter, so there won’t be lyrics about how Adele O’Shea was torn to pieces.”
“I suppose.” And then, I think of Pietro again, the man who died in my place. “Kira, did you know Pietro Potenza personally?”
Kira shakes her head. “Contrary to what you may think, I hardly know these Capos. I only hear stories from my mom.”
“What about Sal?”
“I’d never met him until a few weeks ago. He was the one who offered me the Resin job.”
“Really? You two seemed like you’d known each other forever. Like childhood friends or something.”
A blush stains Kira’s cheeks. “Sal is the furthest thing from my friend.”
