Sempre (Forever) (19 page)

 Vincent's head snapped up. “Excuse me?”

“What’s your problem?” Carmine elaborated as he stepped into the room and took a seat. “You were fine and then suddenly it was like you swallowed someone’s bitter junk.”

Vincent shook his head. “Must you always be so crass?”

“I don’t know,” Carmine said. “Must you always be so evasive?”

“Only when you ask questions you really don’t want the answers to,” Vincent said. “Did you need something? I have things to do.”

“Well, for one, I wanna know why you took my drink.”

“I was thirsty.”

“So you drank it?”

“No,” he said. “Any other questions?”

“Why did you ask Haven if she knew about business?” he asked. “Was it some sort of test?”

Vincent shook his head. “I was genuinely curious. I’m not surprised she knows nothing, but if she had, she wouldn’t have told me.”

“Why do you think that?”

“Because unlike some people, the girl knows how to keep her mouth shut.”

Carmine eyed his father suspiciously. “If you really think that, why do you have her locked in here like she’s on house arrest?”

“I don’t. She’s been outside.”

“Once. She went to the damn doctor. That’s not exactly fun.”

“She went to your football game too,” Vincent added. “She seemed to enjoy herself there. Up until you had one of your episodes, anyway.”

“One of my episodes? Is that what we’re calling them?”

“Unless you have a better name for it.”

“Whatever,” he said. “The point is she rarely gets out of the house. She doesn’t even have a code.”

Vincent sighed exasperatedly. “Why do you suddenly care?”

“Because she’s a person.”

“Well, so are Nicholas Barlow and Ryan Thompson, but you don’t seem to be very concerned about them.”

“It’s different. Someone ought to lock those two up, but she’s just a girl. She’s harmless.”

Vincent looked up again at those words, blinking a few times as if caught off guard. “Are you suggesting you’ve never hurt a girl before, Carmine? Because I think quite a few would say differently.”

The room remained silent for a moment. Vincent pushed his files aside and took off his glasses. “She’s locked inside so much because I don’t have the time or the energy to take her anywhere, and there’s no one else to do it.”

“Yeah, maybe you’re right,” Carmine said. “I don’t even have enough gas in my car to take myself anywhere right now.”

“How do you plan to get to get to school then?”

Carmine shrugged. “Siphon the gas from your car while you sleep.”

Contrary to the tension that had been in the room, Vincent actually laughed at that. “You probably would.”

Carmine smirked. He would.

Vincent opened his top desk drawer and pulled out the silver American Express card. He set it in front of him. “I tell you what—I’ll make you a deal.”

Carmine eyed him skeptically. “I'm listening.”

“I'll give the credit card back if you make more of an effort.”

“An effort at what?”

“Everything. School and at home.”

“What, like keeping my room clean?”

“I said an effort, not a miracle,” he said. “And what I mean is straighten yourself out. Stop the fighting, stop the drugs, pass your classes, and when I ask you for a favor, I want you to actually do it.”

“Sounds fair enough,” Carmine said, grabbing the credit card before his father could change his mind. “I’ll make an effort.”

“Great, because I need a favor.”

Carmine just stared at him, not at all surprised.

“We need groceries,” Vincent said. “Enough stuff to last a while.”

“Like food and shit?”

“Just food, Carmine. But yes.”

“And you want me to get these groceries? On my own?”

“Of course not,” Vincent said. “Since you’re so concerned, take the girl with you.”

Carmine looked between his father and the credit card. “Is this the test? Because not two goddamn hours ago you said I was still cut off.”

“Things change, son.”

“What changed?”

Vincent shook his head—evading yet again. “You want a chance to prove yourself—to make things up to me—then do it. But don’t screw up this time, Carmine. If something happens to the girl, there will be a lot more dire consequences than being cut off financially.”

Carmine stood up, figuring he needed to get out of the room before his father came to his senses and changed his mind. He started to walk out but hesitated in the doorway. “Does this mean I’m no longer grounded?”

Vincent sighed. “You’ve been grounded since you were thirteen, and you’ll continue to be grounded for as long as you live under my roof. Not that being grounded has ever stopped you before…”

“So basically, I’m not really grounded.”

“Were you ever?”

Carmine laughed. “No.”

Chapter 13

Sunny Oaks Manor, located in the Hyde Park neighborhood in Chicago, looked like an upper-middle class apartment complex. The only thing that gave away its true nature was the staff, wearing the typical scrubs that most medical professionals wore to work. Everyone was friendly, the facilities clean and modern, but none of that mattered to Gia DeMarco.

Vincent had done everything in his power to make her comfortable, ensuring she had the biggest apartment and as many luxuries as allowed, but she only held resentment that she'd been forced to move there. Sunny Oaks wasn't her home, she'd told him, and as far as she was concerned, it never would be.

Gia sat in her usual chair at the window in her front room, dressed immaculately in a blue dress and black pumps as she gazed down at the courtyard below. Vincent sat down on the arm of the chair across from her, not surprised in the least that she refused to greet him. Same story, different day.

“It's nice outside,” he said, attempting to make conversation with his mother. “Maybe we could go for a walk.”

“I haven't seen you in months, Vincenzo,” Gia said, her voice venomous. “Months.”

Vincent sighed. “It's been three weeks.”

“Three months, three weeks, it's all the same,” she said. “May as well have been three years. You don't care.”

“I do care, but I don't live in Chicago anymore, remember?”

“Don't remind me,” she said. “I hate thinking about my only son abandoning family.”

Vincent knew by saying family, she didn’t mean his blood relatives. She was referring to
la famiglia
, where he always knew her true loyalty lay. If ever there was a stereotypical Mafia wife, dedicated to the lifestyle until death, it was his mother.

“I didn't abandon anyone,” Vincent said.

“You abandoned me,” Gia said. “You stuck me in a hospital.”

“It's not a hospital. It's a retirement community.”

“It's a nursing home,” she said. “I don't belong here. I'm not sick! Your father, God rest his soul, would be ashamed of you.”

That was nothing new. “How about that walk now?”

“I don’t care what these quacks say,” she said, ignoring his suggestion for the second time. “They can’t be trusted. They’re all probably working for the government. Kennedy always had it out for your father, you know. He tried to bring him down.”

“Kennedy's dead,” Vincent said. “Has been for a very long time.”

“I know that,” she said. “I'm not crazy.”

Vincent laughed dryly. The jury was still out on whether or not that was true. The doctors suspected Gia DeMarco suffered from early onset dementia, but Vincent leaned toward her simply being stubborn. She refused to move past her glory days, not wanting to admit that life went on without her, that the world didn’t stop turning the day her husband died.

She was usually lucid, but every now and then would slip back to those times, when Antonio DeMarco was the most powerful man in Chicago and Vincent still cared about making his parents proud.

“Some fresh air would be nice, don’t you think?”

Gia reached up and rubbed her right ear, ignoring Vincent for the third time. “My ear's ringing. That old hag Gertrude next door must be talking about me again.”

“Did you take aspirin today? That can cause ear ringing.”

“It's not the medication,” she said. “It's her.”

He sighed. His mother was nothing if not superstitious. “Gertrude always seemed nice to me. I don’t think she’s the gossiping type.”

“Like you could tell, Vincenzo. You have the judgment of an imbecile! You and your Irish—”

“Don't start, Ma.” Vincent raised his voice as he cut her off. “I’m not going to sit here and listen to this again.”

Gia was quiet, as if she were contemplating whether or not to finish her thought, but finally decided to change the subject. “Your sister visits me all the time and even takes me to her house. I see Corrado more than I see you.”

It was a lie, but Vincent let it roll off his back.

“Now that is what I call a good man,” she said. “Corrado's loyal. Always has been. His only flaw is he never gave your sister any babies. I always wanted grandchildren.”

“You have grandchildren,” Vincent said. “Two of them.”

Gia scoffed but managed to keep her opinion to herself for once. She stared out the window, shaking her head. “You don't care about me, Vincenzo. You never even want to take me outside anymore.”

*  *  *  *

Carmine sat in the uncomfortable plastic chair, shifting around in an attempt to get comfortable. He beat the end of his pencil against his desk, every tap irritating everyone around him. He could feel Lisa’s eyes boring into the back of his head, her exaggerated huffs only annoying him further.

He heard his name being called and glanced at Mrs. Anderson at the chalkboard. She looked at him expectedly, and he muttered under his breath—he hadn’t been paying attention. “Can you repeat that?”

“What’s the answer to chapter review question four?”

Carmine glanced down at his history book. It was still closed.
Fuck
. “What page?”

There was some collective snickering from his classmates as Mrs. Anderson shook her head. “Page 127, Carmine. Pay attention.”

She moved on to someone else as Carmine opened his book. Lisa leaned up in her desk, her mouth near his ear as she whispered to him, “Why are you so distracted?”

He moved his head, repulsed. “Like it’s any of your business.”

Lisa said nothing for the rest of the class. Carmine stared at the clock, watching the seconds tick away. When the bell finally rung, he shut his book and stood up.

“I don’t understand you anymore,” Lisa said, throwing her book into her bag. “You need to take some Midol and get over this PMSing.”

“Ever think maybe you just don’t know me? And why are you even talking to me?”

“Because we were friends.”

“Yeah,
were
,” he said, slinging his backpack over his shoulder. “Past tense. We’re not friends anymore, Lisa, so don’t bother.”

He walked out of the classroom before she could respond. Everyone else headed to third period, but Carmine strolled past his classroom on the way to the parking lot.

Since the DeMarco’s had moved to North Carolina nearly a decade ago, the boys had thrown a Halloween party every year. While the party evolved from candy and games to alcohol and dancing, the basic premise remained. The kids from school showed up in costumes, making Durante seem a lot less boring for one night.

Vincent was hesitant to agree to it this year, but after a bit of pestering, he caved with a few ground rules—no one was allowed in Haven’s bedroom, and she was to be watched at all times.

The house smelled like Pine-sol when Carmine arrived home, the stench so thick it stung his eyes. Carmine strolled toward the kitchen and stopped in the doorway, seeing Haven scrubbing the marble floor. She was humming again, oblivious to his presence, and he listened as he tried to place the song.

She stood up after a moment and turned around, the humming cut off by a yelp. “You’re home.”

He chuckled as she dropped the sponge. “Didn’t mean to interrupt you, hummingbird.”

“You didn’t interrupt. I was only…” She trailed off as she eyed him peculiarly. “Hummingbird?”

“Yeah, hummingbird.
Colibri
. You kinda remind me of one.”

He felt like an idiot as those words hung between them, but she seemed to only be bewildered. “Why?”

“I don’t know. They’re these little colorful birds that flutter around and hum. And you know, you’re kinda the same way.”

Her cheeks flushed. “You heard me?”

“Yeah. I’ve heard you a few times. It’s, uh…” He didn’t know what to say. “…what song is it?”

“Oh, it’s just something my mama used to sing.”

She fidgeted, averting her eyes. Her sweat pants and tank top were splattered with soapy water, her hair all over the place. “You should get dressed.”

She glanced down at herself. “I’m sorry. I’m a mess.”

“Oh, no,” he said. “It’s just that we have somewhere to go, and I’m sure you’d rather put on something else.”

She eyed him skeptically. “Just give me a moment.”

“Take all the time you need. I’ll wait here.”

She lingered there for a moment before heading for the stairs. He rolled his tense shoulders as he silently berated himself, wishing he would loosen up around her. His anxiety fueled hers, and the last thing he wanted was for her to start avoiding him again.

It only took Haven a few minutes to come back down, wearing a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. “I think I’m ready.”

He opened the front door, and Haven hesitated in the doorway before stepping on the porch. After engaging the alarm and locking up, he helped her into the car. She thanked him softly when he climbed into the driver’s side, her eyes darting around as they drove. “Where are we going?”

Her voice was tentative. She’d gotten into a car with him with no idea where he was taking her. He hoped she hadn’t just followed him because she felt she had no choice, but the alternate meant she trusted him.

Him
. He wasn’t so sure about that.

He opened the center console, looking for the list, before motioning toward the glove compartment. “Check in there for a piece of paper.”