Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 96129 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 481(@200wpm)___ 385(@250wpm)___ 320(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96129 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 481(@200wpm)___ 385(@250wpm)___ 320(@300wpm)
“How’s the school year going, Iz?”
“It’s going. I’m counting down the days until we go on break,” she said.
“I can imagine.”
“You’re coming to the house for Thanksgiving, right?” Cat asked, looking at me.
“Yeah, I guess I will.” My heart squeezed at the thought of Gabe not having a Thanksgiving meal. Fuck. Where the hell was my brother? Maybe he’d be back by then. He wasn’t one to miss our football games, the meal, or the NFL games.
“Don’t bring anything,” Cat said.
“You say this every year. I know.”
The reason she didn’t want anyone to bring anything was that she cooked the entire meal. Well, Loren was in charge of the turkeys – one fried, one baked – and she did everything else. Once, I’d taken pumpkin pie, and someone – probably Gio – said the one I took was better than the one she made, and she flipped out over it. Now, she didn’t allow outside food.
“Is Emma going to be in town?” I asked.
“Did I tell you she got a job with the Miami Herald?” Cat asked, looking at me for the first time since this thing started.
“Nope.”
“Well, she can work remotely, but she’s living down there for now.”
“So she’s not coming?” Isabel frowned. “I thought she was.”
“Oh, she’ll be there. I just wanted to show off a little.” Cat smiled. “I can’t believe she actually got a real job.”
I laughed. “You say it as if she wasn’t making money from her crime blog.”
“She still does that, but it wasn’t what my parents . . . what my dad would have wanted,” she said, clearing her throat.
Isabel and I shared a quick look. Catalina’s mom was someone we never brought up these days. Joe Masseria, on the other hand, had become somewhat of a legend. We looked back at the stage. My phone buzzed on my lap and I turned it over quickly.
Rocco: Anthony picked up the $ at all three bodegas
Rocco: Tommy met him at one of them
Huh. So Thursday nights, then. We had to watch him one more week or get someone working the bodegas to give us more information to confirm that. I flipped my phone back over and looked up at the stage again, but it buzzed again.
Dean: Tommy didn’t replace the kids who work the bodegas with his own people, they were all hired by Santiago
I flipped it over once more. On stage, a male dancer that wasn’t the guy I’d seen with Rosie was doing his thing.
“This is the part. This is the part.” Cat sat up straighter, if that was even possible. She did a little clap as she looked at me. “This is the part.”
My heart beat a little faster in anticipation. Rosie had already come out once in a pink tutu and crown, but it was brief and she was back off stage too quickly for my liking. This time, it seemed like the stage was for her, and her alone. I recognized the song immediately from Home Alone, and wondered if this was why it was memorable, but then Rosie started moving and I forgot how to breathe.
I’d never watched her dance before. I wondered how often Gio had seen her perform without even knowing her name. For some reason, the thought of him seeing her dance before I got a chance made my blood boil. I wondered if my brother had seen her, not now, since she said this was her first role this season, but back then. Back then, when she was his. Thinking about it now made me feel sick, not because I felt guilty for wanting her, for needing her, for fucking her, but because I didn’t like the idea of her being anyone else’s. She was meant to be mine and mine alone.
I wanted to see Cat’s reaction to Rosie’s solo dance, but I couldn’t look away from her. Why the hell was she side-hustling? As far as I was concerned, there were two places Rosie belonged: the center of that stage, and my arms. Anything outside of that wasn’t acceptable. Not the escorting or the bartending or whatever else came along. When the number finished, I stood up to clap and noticed that Cat and Isabel had done the same. I looked down and saw that most of the audience was also standing. A wave of pride shot through me, and I felt myself smile so wide it hurt. We sat down and let the show continue. This time, Rosie was dancing with the male dancer who had danced alone before.
“What do you know about that guy?” I asked Cat without looking away.
“He doesn’t have a name.”
“I mean in real life.” I shot her a look. She was still looking at the stage.
“Oh. His name is Josh.” She shrugged. “He was never in Madam Costello’s company, so I don’t really know him; I only know of him, but I’ve seen him dance.”