Chapter 53

“What the hell, Frankie!” I hiss, leaning over the bar to smack him on the arm. “Why didn’t you tell me that!?”

He grins at me, pleased at his little trick. “You didn’t ask, Bambs. Come on, you ready to go home? I’ll let you make me dinner.”

I scowl at him, but I admit – it’s hard to be mad at him when he smiles at me like that. So I move around the bar to where he’s waiting, and I take his arm and let him lead me out to the car.

Our ride home is quiet, but pleasant – Frankie lets me decompress from my day. But I can’t help glancing at him again and again, and eventually he catches me.

“What?” he asks, smirking at me.

“Well, you two don’t act like brothers,” I say, crossing my arms. “Are you messing with me?”

“No,” he says, his grin deepening. “And Andre and I – we’re not super close. He’s a lot older than me and we have different moms,” he shrugs. “It’s sort of a brother by name thing. But he’s a good guy – I respect him, I trust him as far as I need to. But yeah, we’re not like…huggers. Or whatever brothers are supposed to be like.

“Do you have other siblings?”

“Maybe,” he says, raising his eyebrows. I glare at him, thinking that he’s messing with me again, but Frankie just laughs. “Listen, dad…got around. And I haven’t seen my biological mom since I was very small. So, maybe she popped out a few more kids out there. There’s no way of knowing, not really.”

“Frank,” I say, tilting my head to the side, sad now.

“Don’t do that, Iris,” he murmurs, keeping his eyes on the road. “I’ll take a lot from you, but not your pity. Besides, I know a little about you by now – I know your childhood wasn’t totally roses either.”

I take a long moment to study him before I just sigh and reach out a hand to place warm on his shoulder. And then I move on from it. Because Frankie – I’m getting the impression that this is getting deeper than he wants it to.

“So,” I say, dropping my hand after a moment and keeping my eyes trained on the road ahead. “What do you think about all of it?”

“I think you should have stayed home,” Frankie says, turning his serious gaze on me now, “and let Christian take care of you quietly for a few months, instead of getting yourself all wrapped up in this mob stuff just to piss him off.”

“Am I really getting all wrapped up?” I ask, quiet, watching him as he watches the road. “I’m just…a bartender. In training.”

“At the thickest mafia joint in town,” he says with a sigh, shaking his head. “And this is just step one, Iris. If you do well here, and if Romano likes you? He’ll ask for more favors.”

“So why did Christian let me go?”

“Because forcing you to stay back – when you so clearly wanted to take the job – makes it very, very clear to his dad how important you are to him. He’s already shown his cards there too much. If you’d just played dumb, said you wanted to stay in the penthouse, Christian wouldn’t have looked like he was holding you back.”

I sigh, slumping in my seat, turning my head to look out the side window, considering all my choices and how it feels like I’m constantly two steps behind in this world. Why didn’t I put that together? I’m not stupid, after all.

“So, what do you think I should do?” I ask, my voice soft.

“I think you should go back tomorrow and let Andre see you fuck up a lot,” Frankie says, serious. “Break some cups, piss off some customers, get drunk on the job. Let Romano see you’re not a fit in his machine.” Frankie’s quiet for a moment. “But you won’t do that, will you?”

“Huh?” I ask, confused. I turn my head to frown at him, thinking that he’s accusing me of wanting to piss off Christian more than I already have. Because that’s really not my intent – if Frankie really thinks that I should blow this, then I will.

“I saw you in that bar today,” Frankie says, holding my gaze as long as he can without crashing the car. “I saw how much you liked that job. You were…alive, Bambs. I know what you mean now when you say that sitting in that penthouse is killing you – it’s like you need to be busy in an atmosphere like that. Probably why you liked the strip club so much too.”

I smile at him, pleased to be seen, pleased to have him understand me.

“You looked good, happy for once,” he says, pulling the car to a stop at a red light and taking a long moment to look into my eyes, to study my face. “You looked…really good, behind that bar.”

I fight my urge to bite my lip because…well, because part of me really likes that. Likes the idea of Frankie sitting at the corner of the bar, watching me, thinking that I look good.

We sit there for a long moment, staring at each other, and we both jump when the car behind us honks its horn.

“Shit,” Frankie mutters, turning his face back to the road and the green light beaming above us. And I can’t help it – I smile the rest of the way home.

That night Christian doesn’t come home, and Nico doesn’t either, so it’s just me and Frankie again. We have a quiet night, and I make pasta from scratch to keep my mind busy. He gives me a rave review, of course – but I’ve also seen Frankie eat day-old toast with perfect happiness, so I’m not sure that I fully trust his opinion.

I go to bed early, a little lost in my thoughts, and wake up the next morning to a quiet house. When Frankie does eventually get up, he finds me quietly drinking my coffee, staring at the closed doors to Christian’s room.

“You can’t worry about him,” Frankie says, coming to put a hand on my shoulder. “He’s a big boy. He can take care of himself.”

“Wish he’d come back,” I mutter, “so I can kick his ass instead.”

“Oh, I think you want to be doing other things to his ass,” Frankie mutters, which just makes me gasp and swat at him. But he’s too fast for me, laughing as he moves into the kitchen to pour himself some coffee. “Cheer up, Bambs! And come on, I’ll help you pick out your outfit for today.”

Scowling, I follow him into my room to get the day started.

When we arrive at Lupa, Andre raises his chin in greeting to us and then nods to a table covered in silverware and napkins. I look at him, confused, and then up at Frankie.

“Come on,” Frankie says, guiding me to the table with a hand between my shoulder blades. “He wants you to wrap these. I’ll show you how.”

“Brothers,” I mutter, shaking my head as I sit down across from Frankie at the table. “You got all of that from a nod of the head?”

Frankie just smiles at me, moving on and showing me how to wrap the silverware in the crisp white napkins so that they can be easily laid beside plates. “So,” Frankie says after a minute while we work, after I’ve gotten the hang of things. “Yesterday, you were just the little bar wench, all right? But today…today Andre wants you to start taking on a different role.”

“What?” I ask, a little weirded out. “How do you know this?”

“He told me to tell you,” Frankie says, gesturing over his shoulder to where Andre is at work. “Don’t you remember? Before we left?”

“He told you to make sure I knew the history of the place and my role here.” I say, wrinkling my nose. “Is that some kind of like, code?”

“A little bit,” Frankie says, shrugging and surprising me. He sighs and stops folding, looking me in the eyes. “Look, Bambi, Lupa is a…special place. This building?” he lifts a finger and twirls it in a circle, encapsulating everything around us. “During Prohibition, this was the best speakeasy in the city – barely a secret, because the mob ran it, and the police couldn’t touch it. And upstairs? The finest girls money could buy.”

I gasp, pausing my own hands mid-fold, as I stare at him. “Frankie!” I hiss, leaning forward, fascinated and livid all at once, “is this…is this a cat house!? Is that why Romano brought me here?”