“I’m Dall,” he says. “Anyfriendof Arno’s is a friend of mine.”
“Now, don’t go busting out the fucking friendship bracelets now,” Arno grunts, placing a hand on my shoulder. He steers me toward the bar, and I allow him to, remembering the promise of that drink. “At least let me get wasted first.”
“Where’s Espi?” I wonder. Scanning the bar, I don’t find him anywhere. My gaze lingers on a small, scrawny figure hunched over a stool, but they’re too short to be Espisido. The blond hair spilling from beneath a ratty hoodie gives me another clue.
“Is that my Kitty?” The figure stirs, lifting her head, and her green eyes seek mine out. They’re bloodshot and caked in a layer of black makeup. She’s high. Judging from the half-empty bottle in front of her, she’s drunkandhigh.
I smell her from here. Fuck, it’s a wonder what five years can do to a person. She’s twenty-three but looks twice that much.
“Parish?”
“As I live and breathe.” Her smile is uncomfortable. It’s like her mouth has been too busy being stretched around a cock for cash to buy drugs that she can’t even form the expression right. At some point in her life, she used to be pretty, with Arno’s nose but paired with softer features. Now, she just looks tired. “I thought you were in prison?”
Apparently, Arno’s not the only one who doesn’t know how to fucking turn a television on.
“They let me out for good behavior,” I say.
“Good behave—” Parish laughs. “My ass. You’re a bad boy, Dante. Prison tends to not like to part with bad boys.”
“Well, they parted with this one.”
“I can see that.” She looks me up and down, her eyes focused on my pockets. Desire flickers across her gaunt features, but it’sonly for cash. She needs a fix, and even being the sister of a dealer doesn’t come with the perks of an unlimited supply, I see. “Got any dollars you can spare?”
“No.” Arno muscles his way between us and grabs his sister by the shoulder, manhandling her from the stool. “You’re going to beg for cash in my bar? Get the fuck out.” He shoves her to the door. “Come back when you don’t smell like piss and some old man’s jizz, Rish.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” She makes a talking motion with her right hand. “Fuck you,Arnold.”
He scoffs and tosses back, “Only when Mom’s not around.” Despite his tone, there’s concern in his expression as he watches Parish stagger through the main doors.
“She’s still using.”
It isn’t a question, but he nods anyway and takes a seat at one of the stools, gesturing for me to do the same. “Still using. Still a pain in my ass. Not all of us lucked out in the family gene pool.” He glances at me, his expression unusually serious. “Espi’s a good kid, but he won’t be happy that you’re back. Mark my words on that.”
I grunt in response. My brother is my fucking problem.
“So, what now?”
The bartender is a woman with tattoos draped over her arms, her black hair pulled back into a bun. When Arno snaps his fingers, she’s ready and places a bottle of something dark and tempting down before him.
“Now?” Arno rips the lid off the bottle. “Now, we play, Kitty. Welcome back.”
CHAPTER SIX
Daniela
Something is wrong.It’s been two days since his proposal, but Vinny’s kept his distance. I’ve spent those days inside my room, playing until the calluses on my inner thumbs blister and bleed. It’s a welcome reprieve, but the anticipation chills me more than the freedom from him gives me peace.
Time gives Vinny a chance to brood. A brooding Vinny is more likely to leave scars, like the kind that I know will mar my backside for at least a month. The pain mingles with dread as I fidget on the seat of my vanity and eye the reflection facing me. The woman in the mirror reveals none of Vinny’s secrets. She’s curious. Too many questions battle for supremacy in her eyes when a sudden knock rattles the door.
I’m shaking too badly to even call out a reply.
Is it him?
What does he what?
What will he say?
Do?
