CHAPTER 9
EVE
My entire day passes in a blur. I clean my dorm room and then get to studying. Before I know it, it’s nearing five o’clock. I need to wash up and get dressed before Janelle comes. After showering and putting myself together as decently as I can, I hear a knock at my door. I swing it open and see my beautiful sister, blonder than usual.
“Nice hair!” My head pounds with nerves, but I want to keep it together until it’s time to fess up.
“Thanks. I felt like lightening it up a few days ago.” She fluffs her roots with her fingertips as she struts into the room, her black booties clapping on the wooden floors. “I can’t wait to rearrange all the furniture.”
Janelle is so creative; I’m sure she’ll find a way to maximize my space. Our tiny room in the Blue Houses could have been horrible. But between her little touches and the way she set up our beds and my desk, she was able to transform the space into a small oasis. “Well, what do you think we should do with the place?”
“First of all, we need to push the beds together and make you a king. Then, we can ask your RA to get rid of this extra desk.” She walks to the door, staring at the room from a different angle. “Should we do Target or Bed Bath for fresh bedding? Honestly, Eve, I’m sick of looking at those old sheets. They’re old and full of shitty memories.”
My eyes widen. “Janelle, I don’t want to spend—”
She puts her hand up. “Je-sus, Eve. Stop with that shit! It’s not that expensive, and knowing you, you probably haven’t spent a dime of your grant money for anything other than books. That money is meant for you to actually live! I’ve been doing well in tips, too. You’re buying yourself new sheets and maybe even a few pillows for the big bed we’re about to set up for you. And then we’ll reorganize the room and order in some takeout! Oh—maybe we should get you a small table too, with two chairs? There’s room for that now.”
“Here we go…” I say under my breath, nervous that Janelle is going to take this whole room rearrangement to an absurdly expensive degree.
“Now sit down. Let me put you together before we leave.” I drop into the seat at my desk, knowing that with Janelle, there is no room for negotiation. Luckily, it only takes her a few minutes to apply eyeliner, mascara, and a little blush on my face. Moments later, we’re knocking on my resident advisor’s door to make a small request before heading to Bed Bath and Beyond.
“Oh, hey Eve.” Her usual animated self is on display; I squint my eyes at her yellow polo shirt with the collar popped, and her matching hair ribbon. Alexandra is a brand of New England preppy that I never knew existed until college. My sister turns to me, furrowing her brow as if to say, is this bitch for real?
“Hey, Alexandra,” I reply in my perkiest voice. “Now that I don’t have a roommate, I was hoping you could have someone remove that second desk?” Janelle turns to me, her eyes widening at my tone, but I ignore her.
“Of course.” She nods happily, ponytail swaying. “I’ll call housing services tonight.”
Janelle squeezes my hand three times and then turns to Alexandra. “Thanks for your help, sweetie.” Her tone is so upbeat and unnatural that I have to bite my cheek not to laugh.
“No problem!” she exclaims, thankfully not understanding that Janelle is mocking her. She gently shuts the door and we turn down the hallway.
We’re barely ten feet away when Janelle starts cracking up. “Seriously? Whatever Kool-Aid that bitch drinks, I need a sip a’ that!” We continue our snickering as we walk out of the building.
Forty minutes later, we’re arguing over king-sized sheet colors and plastic table sizes. Luckily, we manage to leave the store without tearing each other apart. Janelle is holding overflowing bags of jersey sheets in navy—while clutching pillows, a duvet puffy-thing to go inside a navy-and-white floral cover—along with a cute little area rug in silver that she tells me I absolutely need. Meanwhile, I’m hauling a small white plastic table, folded, and two white plastic folding chairs.
We get in a large taxi that fits all of our goods in its trunk and head back to my dorm. We both break into a sweat as we drop all of the new stuff by the door. They had delivery, but neither of us wanted to waste the twenty bucks.
After taking a breath and drinking some water from the sink, we get to the heavy work of pushing the single beds together in order to turn it into a king, pushing both to the left side of the room. Janelle answers the knock at the door and it’s two big guys from student services here to remove the spare desk.
“Oh, hey guys,” Janelle says with a sugary smile as she lowers her eyes, getting a nice long look at their denim-clad asses. I roll my eyes at her blatant ogling and can’t help myself but laugh; I do a cursory glance and have to say, they look pretty good in those jeans. Not like Vincent, but—I quickly turn my head and breathe through the pain. Thoughts of him now are accompanied by agony.
She hops up onto the desk that’s staying and crosses one long leg over the other. “So, are you guys students here?” She cocks her head to the side, her eyes twinkling with mischief. The guy with blue eyes stares back at her, clearly liking what he sees.
“Yeah,” he shrugs. “We just do this shit for a little extra cash on the side.” His accent is all Brooklyn.
Janelle turns to me, eyes wide. “You see, Eve? Everyone here isn’t a spoiled rich kid!” I want to glare at her, but the guys laugh, and so I do too. After chatting for a few minutes about the uptight and spoiled kids at school, Janelle takes their phone numbers and they leave the room with the spare desk.
We clean up the dust from the corners of the room and Janelle finally unrolls the new area rug. My old sheets and comforter are now in a huge trash bag. Looking around my room, I’m in a state of utter surprise. “This looks amazing, Janelle!”
“Hell yeah, it does.” She holds out her fist for me to pound and we knock them together saying “swish” at the end. It’s a stupid handshake, but we both love it, so we do it anyway.
I clear my throat, knowing we’re going to have to talk. I’ve got a shitload of stuff to unload on her tonight, and it won’t be pretty.
“I’ll order the Chinese. And then… we talk.”
She’s texting someone on her phone while she replies to me. “Make sure to get some spicy sesame noodles. The girls I live with barely eat a thing. Do you see how skinny I’ve gotten?” She tries to look appalled as she stares at her bony arm, but I know that she’s actually thrilled.
“I can see your bones,” I reply in all seriousness.
“Really?” She jumps up and down with glee.
“You’re crazy; you know that?” I can’t help but chuckle at her exuberance.
“Well, everyone can’t just eat their faces off and be all perfect like you, you bitch.” She winks. “Now, order that food before I eat you.”
I roll my eyes as I place the order. I decided I’d better wait until she’s full before I give her the Vincent saga.
The delivery guy comes and goes, and we sit at the small table to dig in.
“You see? I told you this was necessary!” She spears a piece of chicken with her fork and takes a bite.
“I’ve got shit to tell you, Janelle.” I look down at the food I’ve yet to touch and finally lift my face to hers. My eyes must show anguish because she stops chewing.
“All right. Lay it on me,” she says as she swallows her last bite. “Some bitches giving you trouble? Because if they are, I have no problem kicking someone’s ass.”
I swallow hard, gathering the nerve. “No. But, Janelle, I’m going to tell you something kind of serious. And you have to swear not to be angry that I’ve…withheld all of it from you. But before I start, I want you to know that it’s all over now. So really, there isn’t a reason I’m telling you this except that I feel like you ought to know.”
“Oh, shit. You’re babbling. That’s a bad sign. What is it?” Her no-nonsense stare propels me forward. Before I know it, I’m telling her every gritty detail I’ve kept close to my heart about Vincent. Once I start, I can’t seem to stop myself. I thought that saying it all out loud would push everything farther from me. But it turns out, the opposite occurs. Talking about him and what we had only makes the entirety of my memories more vivid.
The dinner and club the night we met. Making out in the stairwell. Ice skating. I include the information about Angelo’s pawnshop when I met Antonio. Hell, I say it all. I don’t think I’ve ever talked so much in my life. When I’m done, Janelle sits completely frozen, staring at me with an expressionless face. For what it’s worth, it felt amazing to unload. But watching the way her face is morphing into hurt and fury, I know I’m about to pay.
She blinks her eyes a few times. “So, you’re telling me, that the Bull is actually Vincent Borignone? And he killed Carlos. For you. And now he’s at Columbia. Here. But it turns out that he’s had a girlfriend all along—and she’s some billionaire’s daughter and she’s gorgeous and connected and all over social media? And last night you guys made out, but he stopped you. And he told you he loves you and that he wants to explain everything…”
I shuffle in my seat, gathering myself. “Um, I guess that’s the general r-rundown...” I stutter.
“So, you’re telling me,” she repeats a little louder. “That you never touched a man in your life other than making out with Juan. And then you almost had sex with Vincent Borignone. And you never told me?”
“Well, I was never technically with him...” My voice sounds tiny to my own ears. “But, I didn’t know who he was at the time...”
“Eve. Look into my eyes right now!” she exclaims. “Whatever is between you and him is O.V.E.R.” She punctuates every letter, making sure I understand. “Am I being clear? That motherfucking killer isn’t allowed anywhere near you.”
“Janelle, I think you’re—”
“Don’t say I’m overreacting,” she says angrily.
I turn my head to the door and then back to her. “Shhh! Someone might hear you!”
She takes a breath to calm herself down, but the anger is still slick on her tongue. “No fuckin’ way. No, Eve. You don’t realize what’s happening. You’re too naïve.” She throws her arms up in the air. “This man is fucking dangerous.” She stands up, pacing back and forth in the room. “I don’t give a rat’s ass if he’s so smart that he wins that stupid No-Bell Prize or whatever the fuck it’s called. He is bad news. He should not be ANY news. Vincent Borignone is Antonio’s son.” Her words come out staccato, she’s panting, talking a mile a minute. “I never knew he was the Bull, but I’ve heard his name a million times. He’s dangerous as all fuck. He’ll probably be running the family one day.”
She keeps moving, on a rampage. “He isn’t an associate like our Angelo. He’s a made man. You thought the Snakes were bad? The Cartel?” Her breathing turns rapid. “Holy fuck Eve, this man is a hundred times those guys.” She sits back down, grabbing my hands in hers. “Swear to me right now that you will never. Ever. Speak to him again.”
“Janelle…” My heart is pounding. I know that everything she is saying is the truth. But it hurts.
“Last week Vania, whose boyfriend works in the fish market by the docks, told her that everyone pays the Borignones. Anything moved through the waterfront is taxed by them. And what do you think happens if someone says no?”
I sit in silence as she continues.
“No talking. No looking. Whatever that shit was you had between the two of you is over. And, do you realize what he turned you into last year? How you could even think of defending him right now—is making my stomach turn.”
Visions of my mother being a mistress to these rich guys flash through my mind. How many times was my mother the one they all made promises to? They swore they were ending their marriages. They promised her a new apartment. They swore everything under the sun. But inevitably, it all would blow up in her face.
“You want to be the side piece to Vincent Borignone?” she continues. “Because that’s what he wants. It’s what all powerful men like him want. He’s got that fancy piece of ass he takes around town. She’s the public one. She’s the one with the life and the kids and the Mercedes Benz. You’re the idiot on the side! It’s all fun and games until he’s got you on a fucking leash, living in his high-rise penthouse on Park Avenue until the day he gets sick of you. He’ll handcuff you emotionally to him, and meanwhile, you’ll never get to live your own life!”
I gasp as if I’ve been slapped. Janelle is hitting on every insecurity I’ve ever had. “It’s n-not like that,” I say, my voice breaking. A headache sets in the back of my skull; a pounding pain that’s growing by the second.
She opens her eyes wider. “Yeah. It’s exactly like that. He saw you as some charity case. Okay, maybe he’s attracted to you. But he will never choose you over her, Eve. Ne-ver.” She snaps, crosses her arms over her chest.
“You can’t understand what we had—he swore there’s more than it seems! And—Carlos—”
“Stop making excuses.” Her eyes move wildly. “Let me be clear. Number one.” She lifts a perfectly manicured finger in the air. “He’s got a girlfriend. He had a girlfriend while he was hooking up with you and he cheated with you—on her. And I don’t care that he didn’t fuck you when he obviously could have. I mean shit, Eve! Did you listen to yourself recount the story?”
She lifts a second finger in the air. “And secondly, he’s Vincent fucking Borignone. He’s a killer. He fucking kills people for the mafia. Are you lis-ten-ing to me? How do you even know that he killed Carlos for you? Maybe it was because the Snakes were rising in power and he had to take care of him?”
My stomach sinks. I know I have to hear it, and here it is.
“I’m serious, Eve. I refuse to allow this. I’m putting my foot down. If you can’t stay away from him—or if he doesn’t stay away from you—I’m calling Angelo. And I know for a fact he will go fucking insane on your ass. We all didn’t bend backward for the past four years only to have you back in bed with the enemy!”
My face feels like it’s burning as tears stream down my cheeks.
She lets out a sigh, her voice softening. “You can’t let him do this to you.” She gently pushes some hair off my face. “You can do better than him, Eve. I know it. A man like him will seriously fuck you up. The money and the power is an easy thing to get lost in. But at the end of the day, a man like him sees a girl like you or me, they see where we came from, and they try to take advantage. They make false promises. They lie—”
“He has a girlfriend. I know that. I stalked the hell out of them. I lived my life running from these gangs. The streets. I’m done with that and I’m done with him. It’s over. Done,” I say as she looks at me pointedly as if she isn’t sure she believes me. “It’s over and done, Janelle. I promise.”
“Well, halle-fuckin’-lujah. It’s not like you saw him all that much anyway, right?”
I drop my head. Our timeline may have been short in the way we normally think about time, as twenty-four hours a day. But the way time managed to move with us was…different. Heavier. Deeper. More.