I watched the party for another ten minutes after waking up, sipping at a drink someone put in my hand and rubbing at the ache in my neck. It was hard to take my eyes off Carmen. She was beautiful, even dancing with the little boy who was her partner. I sighed, knowing that my good deed would most likely not be rewarded. I knew that regardless of what Carmen may have told Don Bertoli, I'd fucked up yet again.

I was lost in my haze of self-recrimination when someone tapped me on the shoulder, and I saw Tomasso Bertoli standing next to me. "Come with me," he said, all business. "We need to talk."

Swallowing the rest of my drink to calm my nerves, I followed him inside to the kitchen, where at least I could drip on the floor without ruining anything. Inside, I found Luisa already waiting. Separately, Tomasso and Luisa were intimidating enough, but I knew their reputation. Nobody got on their bad side for long, not without hospital visits or leaving town. Or dying. "Uhm, what do you need, Mr. Bertoli?"

"My father is talking to Eduardo right now, and we're going to double-check with Carmen before anything happens, but I want your story about what happened," Tomasso said, indicating the chair where I was to sit. “Normally, I wouldn’t care about a little tussle, but it’s the matter of respecting where you’re at. My wife has already said you and her brother had a bit of a confrontation earlier?"

"I bumped into him by accident when I was going around to park his car and he shoved me. It was nothing,” I said, suppressing the urge to say more. I may not have been a true Bertoli man, but my family had been, and I reminded myself to remember my roots. "It had nothing to do with the incident at the pool."

"Then what you were doing tackling my brother into the pool?" Luisa said. Gone from her face and her demeanor were the pleasantries from earlier when she’d given me the packet of cash.

"I was going to the snack table to get another slice of cake. Before I got there, I saw Carmen at the drink table, and Eduardo came up behind her. He grabbed her wrist, and I came closer, and I heard her say she wanted him to let her go. He refused and started to pull her toward the glass doors right there, and I stepped in."

"Why'd you get involved?" Tomasso asked, his voice level but curious. "They could have been going off for a tryst. That's happened before at parties."

I nodded, then wiped at my lips with the back of my hand, a habit I'd had since my teen years. "I saw her face. It wasn’t some kind of role play. She was scared, and the way he was grabbing her wrist, she looked like she was in pain. He let her go for a second, talked some shit to me, then went to grab her again. Nobody seemed to be noticing what was going on, so I reacted.”

My voice was hard and angry at the end, and I stopped, realizing I was close to criticizing the Bertolis in their own house. I took a deep breath and continued. "I wasn't really thinking clearly. I apologize for disrupting the party."

Tomasso and Luisa studied me for a minute, then leaned in close, talking so quietly that I couldn't hear. I sat back, rubbing my hair and wishing I had at least a towel to let me dry off a little. Finally, they seemed to reach some sort of agreement, and Luisa waved me up with her hand. "Come with us."

The couple tried to lead me out of the kitchen, but I stopped at the door, coughing slightly. "Uhm, Mrs. Bertoli?"

Luisa, who'd been in the lead, turned back. "Yes?"

"Would you mind if I got a towel? I don't want to drip all over the house."

Luisa looked down, then at her husband before I saw a ghost of a smile cross her features.

"Okay," Tomasso said. "Grab him some stuff from my stash? Are shorts and a t-shirt okay for you?"

I nodded and walked back to the chair, sitting down while Luisa left. Tomasso stayed behind, going over to the coffee machine in the corner and pouring himself a mug. "You want one?"

I nodded, realizing how cold I was, and reached out gratefully when he held out the mug. "How do you take it?”

"Just black is fine," I said, taking the mug and sipping it. It was good coffee, a lot better than the cheap shit at my apartment. "Thank you, sir."

Tomasso nodded and poured himself another mug. "You know," he said as he sipped at his coffee, "you're either one of the bravest men I've met in a while or one of the dumbest. Eduardo's not a guy most people choose to fight. I know that firsthand.”

"You won, though, I suspect," I replied. "Or at least you didn't end up face-first in a pool."

"I did," Tomasso replied, "which is why I said you had to be either brave or dumb to do what you did. So which is it?"

"I don't know," I said, shaking my head. “Like I said, I just reacted. I didn’t think. It was the right thing to do, and I'd do it again. Might just protect my head a bit better, though."

Tomasso chuckled and sipped his coffee. "Good idea. Out on the deck, someone called you Degrassi, and the name clicked for me. Your dad was Bobby Degrassi, right?"

I nodded, smiling. "That’s him."

Tomasso was going to say more when Luisa came back with the clothes. "You're going to have to go commando, sorry."

I shrugged. "I've done it before. Thanks."

Luisa left while I quickly shimmied out of my suit, dropping the wet mess on the floor after getting out my wallet and the soggy clip of cash Luisa had given me earlier. "Glad I left my cellphone back at the apartment," I joked as I pulled the shorts on. "Would hate to have to replace that."

"What, your black book on there?" Tomasso said with a laugh, which I echoed.

"You remember how that is. But thanks for the clothes. I guess I'm ready to see the Godfather now."

Luisa and Tomasso led me across the house to Don Bertoli's study, where I saw Carmen sitting inside, her hands folded in her lap. She looked like a lady sitting there in her cocktail dress, and I had to tear my eyes away from her as we came in. "Don Bertoli, forgive the clothes. I asked your son if I could borrow some so I wasn’t dripping all over your floor.”

"It is fine," Don Bertoli said, gesturing. "Have a seat, Dante, and tell me what happened."

I repeated my story one more time, making sure that I told the Don exactly the same thing I'd told his son. He listened to it all, then nodded. "All right then, Dante, thank you. First, let me say you acted appropriately, if a little . . . loudly for my tastes. If you'll wait a minute, one more thing before I have someone drive you home."

He left the room, giving his son a look. Tomasso and Luisa followed close behind, leaving me alone with Carmen. There was an uncomfortable silence, and I cleared my throat. "So, how's the arm?"

Carmen smiled and held up her forearm. “It'll be okay. Maybe a bruise. Thank you again for sticking up for me."

"He was being a jerk," I replied, waving it off. "Someone has to keep jerks like that in check from harassing ladies like yourself."

"What do you mean by that?" Carmen asked, suddenly defensive.

I raised an eyebrow, confused. I hadn't meant to make her angry. I must have said something wrong. "Nothing. Just that you shouldn't be harassed, that's all."

Before Carmen could reply, Mr. Bertoli was back, along with Tomasso and Luisa, and between them was Eduardo Mendosa, who looked chagrined but still cocky as he walked into the room. He had changed clothes too, although his clothes looked like they were actually his and not borrowed. Coming next to the Don's desk, he didn't even look at me as he gave Carmen a look that was about as slimy as any I'd seen a man give a woman in my life.

"Miss Esperanza, I apologize for my actions at the party and ask for your forgiveness." The words were robotic and almost forced between his teeth as Tomasso and Luisa stood on each side of him, Mr. Bertoli sitting with an expectant look on his face. "I'm sorry."

Carmen was obviously not taken in by the falseness of the man's apology, but she was all class. Standing, she nodded gracefully before smiling. "I accept your apology. Thank you."

Eduardo turned to go when Luisa cleared her throat and jostled her brother's elbow. He stopped, and sighed, looking at me. "And you too, Degrasso. Apologies."

I was so stunned that I could only nod my acceptance, even though he mangled my name. He shrugged off his sister's hand and left the room, leaving me and Carmen still sitting in our chairs. I still felt like I'd been stunned, and I wondered if those elbows to the back of my head had rattled me more than I'd first thought. "So . . . there it is."

It was obvious Eduardo didn’t mean his words, but it was about the Don teaching him his place, and if he was satisfied, we all were. He made a nod to Luisa, and she took the cue.

"Carmen, shall we?" She said.

The two women left, and I was left with the Godfather and Tomasso. Don Bertoli looked at me, then sighed. “Don’t mind Eduardo. He'll be leaving the United States soon, and it’s only because of economic reasons that I allow him here.” He turned to look at his son. “Tomasso, will you take Dante home? And make sure he’s compensated for the evening."

Tomasso nodded, and we left, heading out to the foyer. "Give me a moment to grab my keys," he said, disappearing for a moment. I looked around the house, letting it all sink in, when Carmen walked by again, heading back to the party. She waved and gave me a smile that made it all somehow worthwhile, and I waved back, waiting for Tomasso to reappear. He came back momentarily, and we left the house, me feeling only slightly strange until I realized I'd left my soaked shoes and clothes in the house. "What?"

"My clothes are in your kitchen," I said, wiggling my toes. "I should go get them."

"You still want them?" Tomasso asked, surprised. "I figured they'd go in the trash."

“Oh, they’ll be fine,” I said, turning around. Tomasso held up his hand, shaking his head.

"Don't worry about the clothes. I'll get them to you later. Dad says get you paid and taken home, so that’s what I’m going to do."

I sighed, reality crashing in again, and followed Tomasso to his car. I sat silently while he drove, only stopping when he reached my neighborhood. "You don't need to drop me off. I can walk from here."

"I already have the address. I know this neighborhood," he said nonchalantly.

"Thanks, Mr. Bertoli."

Tomasso dropped me off in front of my building, sticking his head out. "I'll give you a call in two or three days," he said, offering his hand. "Maybe you don't know about Carmen, but she's a friend. I won't forget that."

We shook hands, and I watched him drive away in his sports car before I went down the stairs to my little apartment. Inside, I tossed my keys onto the crappy excuse for a table I had and looked around at the shithole that was my apartment. "You've come a long way, baby."

I locked my door behind me, going over to the TV and looking at the picture hanging above it. It was the best photo I'd ever taken with my whole family, at the last home game the Mariners ever played in the old Kingdome. I was holding a baseball bat that had just gotten signed by both Ken Griffey and Alex Rodriguez, while Dad had his arm around me and Mom was giving me a kiss. It had been a great memory, one of the last ones I had left from my childhood. "I did good tonight, Dad."

I went over to my couch, which doubled as my bed, and sat down, resting my face in my hands. It hadn't always been this way, but after my father's shooting and the circumstances that surrounded it, my mother and I had spent quite a few years as persona non grata among the Bertoli syndicate. Dad had saved his money pretty well, so we weren't merely scraping by, but still, we tightened our belts, only to be driven nearly to the poor house when, in my first semester of college, Mom had come down with a cough. We thought it was nothing until she started coughing up blood. A trip to the clinic told us that she was already in stage three of breast cancer, and that some of it was already spreading to her lungs and more. I dropped out of college to take care of her, but even after selling the house and everything else, she died less than a year after she first coughed up some blood. I was left with no money, no house, and a family name that was worthless. Not knowing what to do, other than wanting to reclaim my family's honor, I'd gone to the few Bertoli men who would still talk to me, and had started the long road back. That was six years ago, and I was still trying to get out of the gutter.

Lying back, I chuckled. The night hadn't been all bad, after all. I pulled the wet wad of cash Luisa Bertoli had given me out of my pocket, carefully undoing the binder clip and counting out ten formerly crisp, but still good, hundred dollar bills. A nice compensation for a suit that had cost me a hundred and ninety-seven bucks at JC Penney.

Even better, though, was the smile and thanks I'd gotten from Carmen Esperanza. With her ebony hair, dynamite curves, and that shy smile, she was sexy and demure at the same time, and I could feel my cock twitch in my borrowed shorts as I thought about the way she'd moved on the dance floor, the way her hips had shimmied side to side, and the way her calves had flexed when she stepped . . .

"To hell with it," I muttered, unsnapping the shorts and pulling out my cock. I was already hard, and I let my mind go back to the inner movie I'd had burned into my short term memory, a little fantasy adding to the mix while I slowly began to pump my cock. I needed a little release.

"Dante, it was so brave of you to step in for me," Carmen said as she came closer, her cocktail dress hugging each perfect curve of her hourglass figure. "I've never had a man do that for me before."

Carmen put her arms around my neck, standing on her tiptoes and her breasts pushing into my chest, letting me pull her up into a kiss. Her lips were soft and tasted like honeyed wine, her tongue supple as she quested for entry into mine. Our tongues wound around each other hotly as I pulled the hem of her dress higher and higher, my hand exploring the perfect, silken skin. She wasn't wearing any panties underneath, and I moaned in surprise.

"I thought I might say thank you," she whispered, breaking our kiss. "Would you like your thank you with my mouth, or with something else?"

"Something else," I muttered, lost in my fantasy as my hand pumped my cock more quickly, my mind's eye in full takeover of all my faculties.

“Good, because that's what I want too," Carmen said, taking her arms from around my neck to free my cock from my pants. Giving me a naughty smile, she jumped into my arms again, so tiny but perfect in her dress, wrapping her legs around my waist. "I'm sure a big, strong man like you can handle me standing up like this?"

I nodded as she lowered herself onto my cock, her pussy gripping me perfectly as she took me all in one long, wonderful stroke. She was hot and vacuum tight, and we fell into a passionate pace, our mouths hungry for each other even as I pushed her against the wall, my cock pounding in and out of her amazing body. We were in perfect sync, thrills going throughout my body as her hands clawed at my back, scratching me even through my shirt.

Carmen's moans took on a fevered pitch, and she tore her mouth from mine, gasping. "Fuck me . . . fuck me as hard as you can," she gasped, her eyes rolling back into her head as I sped up even more, hammering her until she screamed, squeezing me tight and crying out for more. I drove in again and again, keeping her on the crest of pleasure until, with a shuddering growl, my cock erupted, and we collapsed into a happy heap on the floor.

I felt coolness on my chest and opened my eyes, reality flooding back in as I realized the wetness on my chest wasn't Carmen's sweat, but my own. Sighing as my fantasy was shattered, I wiped myself off with the tail of the borrowed shirt—it was dirty anyway—and pulled it off. Walking to my tiny bathroom, I looked at the man in the mirror and shook my head.

"Look at you," I said to my mirrored self, knowing I was better than what I saw.

Dropping my shorts, I stripped the rest of the clothes off and turned on the shower, muttering once again as the pipes in the wall vibrated as the water heater above argued with me for a full twenty seconds before relenting, and tepid warmth finally joined the spray.

I stuck my head under the now warm stream and muttered, “Fuck my life.”