“Why haven’t you called me?”
“No phone, remember? Plus, I’ve been instructed not to use the house line.” I look for the one thing I asked her to bring. “Do you have my purse?”
She waves a hand in the air, showing she has my bag that I left stranded at the bar at Villa Russo on Friday night. I look through it. My wallet and lip gloss are still inside, as is my phone, which is dead.
“This is crazy. Amelia, you should just take the day and sit with your family. Wait until your father calls,” my mom begs with her arms splayed out on the tiled countertop.
“Maybe when you explain to me why my purse was removed from Villa Russo before the police got there, so no one had proof I had been there? Or why it went to Uncle Frankie’s first before coming straight here?” I ask with an accusatory tone.
Sienna grabs the piece of toast from my plate and takes a bite before plopping in the kitchen table seat and speaking with her mouth full, clearly not hearing or caring about the statement I just made, “All I keep thinking about is those horrible men and how they tried to kill our fathers. I mean, if I’d stayed a few more minutes, I would have been there too. I could be dead. I can’t sleep; I’m so upset.” She takes another bite.
“I’m sure it’s been very traumatic for you,” I say sarcastically. “At least you have your appetite.”
My mother walks over to Sienna and places a consoling hand on her shoulder. “Trust me, no one is going to cause the daughter of Frank Evangelista any harm.”
“Clearly. Have you seen my escorts?” She waves toward the window, where a town car is idling in my parents’ driveway. “My guards are outside your door. Did your father provide you with an escort? I hope they’re cuter than mine. Could it have killed anyone to get a John Cena type?” she asks.
“We should have,” my mother states dramatically. “This one is running out of the house.”
“You’re seriously going to work?” Sienna asks, surprised, taking in my attire. “Weren’t you told not to leave the house?”
“You left yours,” I point out.
“To come here. That’s completely different from going to Manhattan.”
I shove away from the counter. “My father only said to stay here because I always do what he says. Not anymore. After what I went through”—I take a deep breath—“I’m not the same girl.”
Sienna tilts her head as she drops her toast. “What happened to you that night?”
I put my plate with the uneaten piece of toast down. “Jesse saved me. He was able to get me out the front door, so I ran out and hid in the bushes for a few hours until it was safe to walk.”
“She says ran through the gunfire!” my mother shouts.
“The hot bartender saved your life. That’s so sexy,” Sienna purrs.
I cross my arms and try to explain the situation to them, “There was nowhere to go once the dining room doors were locked, so I couldn’t get in. It was frightening. And all I could think about was my family. When I returned home, I found out my father had left through a side window and taken off. He hadn’t even tried to rescue me.”
Having these days to process everything has altered my thinking dramatically.
My mother tries to reason with me. “Amelia, you have no idea what your father did. He’ll explain it all when he returns.”
“From where? What do we know about what Dad and Uncle Frankie do? Why were there men at the club, trying to kill them? To hurt Uncle Vic? I find it hard to believe that I’m the only one who wants answers to these questions.” My words fall on deaf ears, and I’m starting to think they’re not as in the dark as I am. “I have a bus to catch.”
“What time will you be back?” My mother follows me out the door to my car, which miraculously appeared at my parents’ house before I was even back from escaping.
“I have my own place. I’ll be sleeping there tonight.”
“You can’t.” The worry in her voice makes me stop and sigh.
I drop my bag on the front seat and then walk toward her. I raise my hands and drop them with a deep breath.
“I’m sorry I’ve been short with you, but please understand, I need this. I was there Friday night. What happened wasn’t normal. None of this is, and I crave the normalcy of my life. You want to act like nothing happened? Fine. Let’s get back to business as usual, unless you can give me a solid reason why I need to stay here as captive. If you’d just open up to me I can share your burden.”
Her body sways as she places her hand, lovingly, to my cheek. The worry of her lip combined with that steadfast determination in her stare. Joanne Sorrentino will never give up her husband’s secrets. Not even to her daughters. “I hate that you’re such an independent girl. What happened to my rule follower?”
“She’s grown up.” More so over a weekend than in a year. “I promise I’ll call every hour.”
I slide into my car and back out of the driveway, ignoring the stares of Sienna’s guards in the car next to me.
There are only three ways to get to my Manhattan office. Driving takes forever in traffic, and the ferry is out of the question. I like the MTA Xpress because it’s fast, convenient, and I can take a nap if I need to.
I park along the busy street where the bus to Manhattan runs and get out. There’s a black Lincoln on the corner that’s similar to Dad’s friend Rocco’s. The driver has on dark glasses and looks to be staring at me. When I glance back in his direction, he turns away as he pulls from the curb.
The screeching sound of the bus brakes gets my
