Chapter 81

“She can do it,” Christian says on a long sigh, and when I turn to him I see him looking at me with such grim confidence that my heart warms, touched by his belief in me.

But still – I need more details.

“What…what would I have to do?” I ask quietly, looking around at the three of them, wanting them to take the lead. This is still their world, after all, though I find myself more and more mired in the depths of it.

“Well,” Nico says, leaning back, clearly thinking as he speaks. “You’d…basically go into Lupa tomorrow like nothing’s wrong. And act really, really shocked when you hear the news that Edward is dead. We can always pretend that Andre told you first…”

“Leave Andre out of it,” Frankie says softly, shaking his head.

“Hmm?” Nico asks.

Frankie just meet’s Nico’s eyes, dead even. “Andre’s steady but…he’s not an actor. Don’t give him a role in this – he doesn’t want it. Plus, he’s dead loyal to Romano – far beyond his loyalty to me. The less Andre knows, the better.”

“Will he betray us?” Christian asks, looking straight at Frankie.

Frankie considers for a long moment. “No,” he says quietly. “For me, he’ll buy whatever story we give him and ask as few questions as possible. But if we tell him more than he needs to know? He’ll tell Romano. He knows where his bread is buttered.”

“All right,” Christian says with a steady nod, agreeing to it. “Then…we wait. If any of us get word here, tonight – even a rumor that Edward’s body’s been found…then Bambi knows because people are aware that she lives with us. But if we don’t, then she’ll ‘find out’ tomorrow, probably in front of my dad.”

All three of the guys start to nod and then train their eyes on me.

“So, I need a…backstory,” I say quietly, wondering if that’s the right word for it.

“Keep it as simple as possible,” Nico says. “They’ll question everyone, so anyone there’s a witness for needs to have a story that matches yours. You had witnesses at the restaurant and the valet stand that saw Edward getting drunk, putting his hands on you. Did you interact with anyone after you got into the car?”

“No,” both Christian and I say at the same time. I smirk a little, sending a glance to him before bringing my attention back to Nico.

“Good,” Nico murmurs. “Then…he freaked you out with his driving and with being handsy. You said you didn’t want to go home with him anymore. When he refused, you demanded he pull over. He said he’d leave you in the middle of the city for all he cared, you called his bluff, got out of the car at a redlight. He peeled away, mad as hell. You called Frankie, who called Christian, who happened to be in the area and picked you up.”

“Is that…to close to what actually happened?” I ask, anxious.

“Maybe,” Christian murmurs, nodding a little. “But…it’s good.” He leans back, crossing his arms over his chest. “So, where are the holes? Let’s find them now.”

“Holes?” I ask, confused.

“Plot holes,” Frankie murmurs. “Ways people can call our story.”

“Well,” I say with a little shrug. “I…don’t have a cell phone.”

“Good,” Christian says, his eyebrows going up as he nods to me.

Nico sighs and pulls one out of his pocket, handing it to me. “You need one now anyway, with how deep you’re getting. No unauthorized outgoing calls or emails, yes? Rules haven’t changed.”

I nod, and I can’t help smiling a little, because a phone! I have a phone. God, I missed this little tie to life. I slip it under my leg, not wanting Nico to change his mind and take it back.

“Holes,” Christians demands again, urging us to get back on topic.

“I mean,” Nico says, frowning around, “is one of the holes that Bambi would have the balls to tell Edward to let her out of the car? That she’d be bossing him around like that?”

I frown a little, not sure – because the truth is I didn’t have the balls to counter him, to demand that he let me out of the car. I was terrified.

“No, you’re not thinking of who Bambi really is, Nic,” Frankie murmurs, nodding thoughtfully as he claps his hands beneath his chin. “She’s…a pet.”

“What?” I ask, confused.

“Well, think about it,” he murmurs. “Bambi – and not Iris, so don’t connect the two – got this job at Lupa because she’s Christian’s pet stripper – the girl he picked up at the club and keeps tucked away. He got her the job at Lupa because he likes her, or at least that’s what people think.”

“That’s not what Romano thinks,” I point out.

“True,” Frankie says, turning his eyes to me. “But Romano thinks you’re fucking Christian.”

“What!?” I breathe, because I! I did not know that! And then I realize that if Romano thinks that…then… “Oh, ew!”

“Wait,” Nico murmurs, watching me closely. “Why is it ‘ew’ if Romano thinks you’re fucking Christian?”

“Because he –“ but then I stop myself, and feel a blush rise to my cheeks, and I raise my palms to cover it because I am…I am revealing a lot right now, aren’t I? Only Frankie knows that Romano pulled me into that back room and put his hands on me, and that’s the only person I want to know.

But as I raise my eyes and look at Christian and Nico, I think that the cat may be out of the bag on that one.

“Iris,” Christian snaps, glaring at me. “What did my father –“

“Nothing,” I say quickly, dropping my hands and sitting up straight. “It’s nothing, Chris. Just. Can we pay attention to the task at hand?” I gesture around the table.

“She’s right, and it doesn’t matter,” Frankie says, flitting a hand dismissively. “Everyone still thinks that Bambi is your pet, Chris, that you like her enough to do little favors for her, whether or not you’re romantically entwined. And a girl like that, who thinks she’s got one mob son under her thumb?” he shakes his head. “She’s going to be conceited enough to believe that she’s protected enough that another can’t fuck with her.”

My mouth falls open a little bit because…well, because this Bambi sounds one hell of a lot braver and more self-assured than me.

“It’s not bad,” Christian says, nodding along with the little story. “So…it was just a date that went wrong. And you got out of the car, and he sped off and…that’s the last you saw of him, Bambi.”

“It makes sense,” Frankie says with a shrug. “It’s a reason for him to have road rage that night, so that even if there is traffic footage of his car and another having an incident, there’s no reason to think Bambs would have been in the car. Not necessarily.”

We spend a little bit more time working out the details of the story, but overall everyone tacitly begins to go along with it. We begin to unwind a bit, I think having a plan giving us something to concentrate on, taking all of our minds off of the blind panic that ran through us a little bit ago. Christian helps this along with generous pours of whiskey into our glasses and I keep drinking, even though my ice melted long ago.

The result is that by two or three in the morning I’m sleepy, and my eyes are half-lidded, and I don’t have the energy to panic anymore. And even though I’m desperately not looking forward to my shift at Lupa tomorrow…

…Well, I’m actually half believing that we can pull this off. Or, at least that I can pull of my part of the job, which is just…acting surprised to hear Edward is dead and then crying a lot.

“You okay?” Frankie murmurs, leaning a little closer to me.

“Yup,” I say, my word slurring a little. I pick up my glass of whiskey and hold it at eye-level, studying it. “Do you think I can bring a bunch of this to work tomorrow? I feel…much more capable when I’ve got a whole bunch of this in my blood.”

“You can’t bring it, Bambs,” Frankie replies, laughing a little. “But you work in a bar – haven’t you noticed? They’ve already got a whole bunch of that there.”

“Yeah, but Andre doesn’t let me drink it,” I say on a heavy sigh, lifting the glass again to my lips. But before I can take a sip, Frankie snatches it away.

“Enough of that,” he murmurs, placing it on the table and starting to stand up. “You’re going to be hung over enough as it is.”

“But it fits!” I protest. “My story, that I had a bad date, and I came home and cried about it and drank myself to sleep!”

“Bambi’s messy but she’s not a mess,” Frankie says, sighing and coming to stand behind me, putting his hands beneath my arms and starting to gently lift, obliging me to get to my feet. “It’s a fine line, baby. Got to learn how to walk it.”

“Teach me your ways,” I murmur, looking pleadingly up at him. Frankie laughs, grinning down into my face.

“Bed?” Christian says, and we both look over at him.