Chapter Nineteen
Vince is peeling off his dress shirt from dinner when I come in.
My first instinct is to duck back out of the bedroom to give him privacy, but I guess that’s dumb. We’re having sex, we’re living in the same space—we’re past that.
I subtly clear my throat anyway, just so he knows I’m here.
He glances back over his shoulder just long enough to acknowledge me, then goes to his closet and moves a few hangers before settling on a T-shirt.
“We should watch a movie,” I tell him. “I’m too stuffed for popcorn, but I think a movie night could be just what the doctor ordered.”
His stony silence stretches on, indicating he isn’t going to answer me.
I slip my shoes off, using my foot to scoot them over beside the bedside table. “Or we could do something else, if you want.”
“You can do whatever you want,” he finally says, brushing invisible lint off his sleeve. “I’m going to Joey’s.”
Taking a seat on the edge of the bed, I consider for a moment before I say, “You know I didn’t do anything wrong, right? He told Cherie he wanted me to bring him his food. It’s not like I could say no to him.”
Spinning on his heel to point at me, he says, “Exactly.”
Shrugging helplessly, I say, “That’s what you’re mad about? That I had no choice so I did this stupid little thing that doesn’t matter to anyone? It’s crazy. This is an insane thing to care about.”
My logic does nothing to calm him. “It’s not about the dinner. You’re not that naïve, Mia, come on.”
Scowling, I push up off the bed and walk around the bed so I’m closer to him. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“I’m not here all the time,” he says, eyebrows rising. “How do I know what’s going on when I’m not here?”
My mouth opens and closes four different times, but I’m fucking flabbergasted, and nothing will come out.
Finally I throw my hands up in the air. “You’re being crazy!”
“I’m being realistic,” he mutters. “He’ll come between us, just watch.”
“That’s so stupid,” I state. “And even if he wanted to, which, I want to reiterate, is insane, he can’t come between us if we don’t let him. Period. It’s impossible. He’s not God, he can’t make us stop caring about each other.”
With a bitter, knowing nod, he says, “No?”
I take a breath, telling myself to simmer down. Yes, Vince is being unreasonable, but escalating the situation won’t make it any better. After a moment, I manage calmly, “There is nothing going on when you’re not here. It’s insulting that you would even wonder.”
“Then why are you giving him his dinner?”
Throwing my arms in the air again, I walk past him to the dresser. Grabbing a hair clip, I yank the fancy pins out and toss my hair up instead. “Okay. We’re back to this. Your cousin is not interested in me, Vince. And I’m damn sure not interested in him.”
“You see the way he looks at you,” Vince counters.
“Like he wants to piss you off? Yeah, I see those looks. I think he likes to piss everyone off.”
“Adrian asked me about it,” Vince states, like he’s caught me.
I consider the moment earlier when I was in my bikini and Mateo was looking me over in front of him. I wouldn’t have thought that was worth reporting back to Vince—any man would’ve looked, it didn’t mean anything. Maybe I like Adrian a little less.
All I can do is shake my head. “Whatever. I’m not going to keep defending myself. I think this is stupid, I don’t know why you’re being so weird about all this, but I wish you’d stop. Stop giving him so much power over you. If he didn’t get such a rise out of you every time, he’d probably stop doing stupid little shit to piss you off.”
“It’d be nice if you were on my side about this,” he states.
“If your side and mine were the same, I would be, but it kind of feels like I’m being blamed for something, and I haven’t done anything wrong. If you’re accusing me of any sort of impropriety with Mateo, you’re completely mistaken. I’ve barely spoken to the man. Yes, I try to play nice, when he was friendly at dinner, I talked to him—I have this weird feeling that pissing him off for no reason isn’t the best idea.”
Shaking his head, Vince says, “Mateo isn’t friendly, Mia. He’s manipulative. I still don’t think you get it.”
“I’m really tired of being warned about him.”
“And I’m really tired of you not getting it,” Vince states.
“I must be impossibly naïve,” I return, fed up with this conversation. “Since he said he wouldn’t hurt me and you and I could be together, he hasn’t hurt me and we have been together. He gave my mother thousands of dollars and moved me into a mansion with my boyfriend. He’s been so atrocious to me that he bought me some things to help me fit in, and has conversations with me sometimes at the dinner table. Holy shit, what a monster.”
Making a face somewhere between anger and disgust, he says, “Whatever, I’m out of here.”
I sigh, turning toward him as he heads for the door. “Are you coming home tonight?”
“Why do you care?” he tosses back.
“I don’t want to fight with you,” I say, but he’s already slamming the door shut behind him.
---
Since I’m on my own with no homework and no company, I make my way to the library. It’s still kind of crazy to me that there’s an actual library in this house, but there is, it’s huge, and there’s this comfy couch that really tops off the whole experience.
I can’t find anything to read though. You wouldn’t think more choices would be a bad thing, but there are too many and I can’t decide.
The door creaks open as I peruse a shelf, so I glance back to see who’s there.
Mateo ducks his head in, not seeing me. “Anyone in here?”
Clearing my throat, I take a step toward him. “Yeah, I am.”
“Oh, okay. I was just going to shut the light off, thought someone left it on.”
“Nope,” I say, offering a slight smile. “Just looking for something to read.”
He nods, stepping inside. “Vince go to bed already?”
I shake my head, glancing at the floor. “He left. Went with Joey or something.”
Gesturing to the area near me, he says, “Mind if I come in for a minute?”
“Not at all,” I say, stepping back to make room, which is absurd, since there’s nothing but room. I just feel a little awkward after everything with Vince, and I’ve never actually been alone with Mateo, but I think I’ve been warned against it 850 times.
Nodding toward the book in my hand as he approaches, he asks, “What are you reading?”
“Oh, nothing yet,” I say, glancing down at the old, illustrated copy of Pinocchio. “I was just looking. You have some really cool books in here.”
“Yeah, I think there’s a little bit of everything,” he agrees, glancing around at the walls of bookshelves.
“Well, not everything, but pretty much.”
“What’s missing?” he asks, frowning slightly.
I blush, feeling a bit stupid. “Uh, I was looking to see if you had any graphic novels. There aren’t any.”
Now amusement dances in his eyes. “Graphic novels? Like, comic books? Heroes and villains? Good winning out over evil?”
I shrug. “They’re fun. Maybe not great literature, but I got sort of hooked on them last summer. The air wasn’t working at our house and we didn’t have any money to do anything, so I’d take the kids to the library. They could pick out books to read, there was a little play area, and I just sort of stumbled upon the graphic novels. They’re quicker to read than a book, less wordy, so it was a nice way to pass a little time. Some of them are really interesting. You shouldn’t knock them until you try them,” I advise him.
“My apologies to the graphic novel community,” he says solemnly. “Which one’s your favorite?”
“Oh, I couldn’t choose,” I say, shaking my head.
“Well, why don’t you make me a list. I’ll order some for you—you know, to rectify this gross oversight in my library.”
I can’t help smiling. “I will. Then you can read them, and decide for yourself whether or not they’re stupid.”
“I do enjoy a good hero versus villain showdown,” he says, winking.
“So do I,” I admit. “In books, not so much… life, but…”
“Hey, now you’ve got firsthand experience, maybe you can write your own graphic novel,” he jokes.
“Oh, no, I’m not a writer. It takes me like 23 years to write a 3 page paper, double spaced. Also, I’m not sure dressing up for dinners and lounging by the pool in a 28,000 square foot mansion necessarily qualifies me to…you know, show the ugly underbelly of humanity.”
His eyes dance with amusement, and I wonder how I ever thought them cold. There’s definitely warmth there. “Give it time; you’re still new to the family.”
“Oh, I know, I’m always being warned about the horrors that await me,” I say unthinkingly, rolling my eyes. “What next, will I be forced to go on a cruise to the Bahamas?”
He maintains his smile, but glances down. “By whom?”
I look back at him, raising my eyebrows questioningly. “By whom will I be forced to go on the cruise?”
“By whom are you warned?” he specifies.
“Oh.” I pause, flushing, realizing that had been a dumb thing to say, given all the warnings have been about him. “Uh, I mean… I didn’t mean specifically, just…” I trail off awkwardly, hoping he’ll save me here, but he just watches me scramble. “Cherie was telling me how you guys—this family—the—how, like, you’re pretty traditional, and not, you know, feminist-friendly.”
I’m already feeling like an assbag for offering up her name, but I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t want to throw Vince under the bus, and I couldn’t really say, “Well, everybody. Everybody says that.”
Nodding his head, he said, “Cherie’s not a big fan of my family. I don’t blame her, her father certainly isn’t the best example, and given that, I’m sure her mother feels the same way, but I wouldn’t take her opinion to heart. We are traditional, but tradition isn’t always a bad thing.”
“Her father?” I ask, interest piqued. As long as I’ve wondered about Cherie, I still don’t know much about her. “I haven’t met him. Does he live here, too?”
“Ben?” he asks, eyebrows rising. “No. No, he moved to Vegas years ago, when Vince’s mom died.”
“Vince’s mom?”
“His wife?”
I give up and frown. “What? Sorry, I’m not following. I don’t know anything about Vince’s dad either.”
“Oh, Vince and Cherie have the same father,” he explains.
My jaw drops open. “They’re… siblings?”
“Half, yeah.”
All the times I’ve felt catty and jealous over her suddenly come flying back to me, and I feel so incredibly stupid. “Oh, my God,” I say, slapping my palm to my forehead with a little smile. “Wow, I wish someone would’ve told me that a long time ago.”
“You had no idea,” he realizes.
“I was such a bitch to her when she first tried to befriend me. Legendarily bitchy.”
He has the nerve to laugh. “Why?”
“I thought she was trying to… you know, horn in on my man,” I say, giving up and laughing at how stupid I sound. “Oh my God, I’m an asshole.”
“I’m surprised Vince didn’t tell you,” he remarks.
“Yeah, me too. We never even talked about it—he knew I had siblings, of course, but… he didn’t want to talk too much about his family.”
Mateo nods, understanding. “We try not to. You can’t trust people.”
Dimming a bit, that makes me think of the fight Vince and I just had. “I think you can trust people more than you guys do. Give people a little credit, they might surprise you.”
He looks amused. “I’m rarely surprised.”
Raising a finger to point at him, I say, “But rarely isn’t never, now is it?”
“I guess not,” he says. I know I haven’t cured him of his paranoia, but at least he gave me that.
“You all need to just relax. You guys have this awesome life, and you’re too busy watching over your shoulders to enjoy it. A month ago I had to find ways to make dinner for $2. If I got sick, I had to drink orange juice from the school cafeteria and hope the vitamin C helped because we couldn’t afford to buy medicine. You guys have a country club at your house and you’re all wearier than I’ve ever been.”
“You’re young,” he reminds me. “You’re correct that I’ve never experienced poverty, but you’ve never experienced a man you’ve grown up with for 20 years, more brother than friend, try to assassinate you because another man wanted what was yours. You’ve never had your older sister gouge you in the leg with a throwing star and try to end your life. You’ve never had to live every day knowing the only thing between you and a body bag is a good bodyguard and the people who would kill you being too afraid of what you’d do if they failed.”
My eyes are wide by the end. Being tucked away here, it’s easy to forget the ugly life that makes all the extravagance possible. “Wow, that… sucks. I’m sorry.”
He shrugs, like it’s business as usual. “I have trusted people close to me. I learned not to.”
I can’t help the wave of sympathy that comes over me. I can’t imagine being betrayed in such grand fashion by the people closest to me. He’s different here, alone, without everyone around to posture for. “That sounds really lonely,” I tell him.
“That’s life,” he says simply.
“It doesn’t have to be,” I say, softly, since I don’t really know how to argue that. I’m sure in my convictions though, so I attempt to come up with evidence to base that claim on. “There are people here you can trust. I mean, Adrian seems like a good friend.”
“Adrian despises me,” Mateo states, smiling.
I rear back a little at that. “I thought he was your bodyguard?”
“He is,” he says, simply.
That… doesn’t make sense, but I move along. “Francesca—your sister is great.”
“So was my other sister—the throwing star one,” he reminds me.
Grimacing slightly, I say, “Damn, two for two. Well, you can trust me,” I decide. “I mean, I know I’m not powerful or connected and I couldn’t protect you from a bullet or a throwing star, but if you ever feel lonely, you can count on me as a friend.”
He’s looking at me in a way I can’t quite pin down, but I see traces of amusement there. “You always try to befriend people who’ve threatened to kill you?”
“Exclusively,” I say, not missing a beat. “How else will I know they care?”
Shaking his head, he states, “I’m not sure if you’re terribly idealistic or a little bit dim.”
Lightly whacking him in the arm, I say, “Hey, that’s not friendly!”
“I’m not a friendly guy,” he states.
“Oh,” I say, with a dismissive wave. “I think you’re friendlier than you want to admit. You don’t have to intimidate me into not wanting to kill you, so you don’t have to keep up the front.”
“Front, huh?” he repeats, still amused.
I nod. “There’s good in you. There’s good in everyone, and you’re no exception.”
With a disbelieving headshake, he says, “I think I’m starting to see why Vince is so fond of you.”
That draws a frown out of me. “Eh, he’s not so fond of me tonight.”
His eyebrows rise, like he’s surprised. “No? Well, his loss.”
My frown turns to a slight smile at that. A second passes, then Mateo takes a step away. “Well, I’ll leave you to your books. Turn the light off on your way out, would you?”
“Of course. Thanks for keeping me company.”
“Anytime,” he says, offering a slow smile before departing the room.