Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 91389 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 457(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91389 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 457(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Rodrigo gives me a look that suggests I shouldn’t know anyone, anywhere, ever. Message received.
They’re on the second floor in room 5, one of the nicest we have. It looks like an English hunting lodge with intricately wood-paneled walls, a real working marble fireplace, leather wingback chairs, antique lamps, and thick fancy rugs. Tommy’s sitting next to the fire with three men in suits, none of whom I’ve seen before, and they’re all drinking dark liquor and laughing about something. I catch tattoos and the flash of a gun tucked into a shoulder holster.
Serena lingers near the bookshelf, looking bored. She nods when I enter the room and I ask if she needs anything. “You’re still here,” she says, but I can’t tell if she’s upset about that. I’m tempted to point out that I’ve seen her every night for the past few nights since the bathroom incident, but it’s too depressing. “Vodka tonic. Please and thank you.”
I take drink orders from the men. Tommy wants his best bottle of scotch brought up and his guests seem to think that’s a splendid idea. They speak with thick accents, eastern European sounding, maybe Russian or something Baltic, I can’t really tell. Tommy’s phone is on the coffee table next to some empty water glasses, totally ignored.
They laugh again at something as I walk away and I get the distinct sensation that it’s at my expense. Serena stares at me from her spot near the shelves.
I rush out of there and have to take a minute to calm myself down. I don’t know why but those guys bother me. It’s something about their accents, and something about what Angelo mentioned the other night. I close my eyes, trying to remember.
He asked about someone with a Serbian last name.
It’s possible those men in there have Serbian accents. I can’t really be sure. Tommy does business with a lot of people and many of them are from crime families. It wouldn’t be unusual if he were meeting with representatives of the local Bratva or something.
But it’s too much of a coincidence. I shoot Angelo a text.
Claudia: You should take a look at the guys Tommy’s in a meeting with.
Angelo: Why, are they particularly handsome? Careful, you might make me jealous.
Claudia: No, they’re talking with accents. Maybe Serbian accents.
Claudia: Since when did you get jealous of me?
Angelo: Since I went down on you and decided you are the sweetest girl I’ve ever met.
I feel myself blushing and grinning at the phone and decide to shove it away before someone catches me smiling like a moron.
Tommy and his guests are deep in discussion when I get back. Serena’s draped over a couch, staring at her phone, scrolling through TikTok, and she doesn’t acknowledge me when I hand over the drink. The men barely glance my way, and I can tell the vibe is different as I open the bottle and pour their drinks. They’re anxious for me to leave, and Tommy’s staring at me with a hard look. I avoid his gaze and watch his phone instead, but there’s too much attention on me, and I go without grabbing it.
I’m in and out for the next couple hours. The men are getting progressively drunker and at some point, Serena passes out with her phone on her chest. She’s snoring slightly, mouth hanging open, and she looks like herself. I remember when we were little, she’d curl up in bed with me at night right after Dad died and Mom first got sick, and I’d tell her stories about princesses slaying dragons, and she’d fall asleep just like that. I don’t mind the dark when you’re around, she’d whisper and wrap her arms around me, and I’d snuggle in close and breathe in her smell.
She came to my bed like that every night until Mom died. Then she stopped like it had never happened, and our lives got so much worse when we moved in with Uncle Rodney.
And now I wonder if she quit coming to my room to spare me whatever Rodney was doing to her, but the second that thought occurs to me, I have to push it away or I’m going to lose my mind.
Around midnight, getting close to the end of my shift, the meeting gets looser. The bottle is long gone and they’re doing shots of vodka now. Tommy’s guests are making elaborate toasts in their language, while Tommy’s making toasts in his pathetic attempt at Italian, and my moment comes when one of the foreign guys knocks over a glass of water all over the coffee table.
“Ah, fuck!” he says. I hurry over with a towel. He tries to help, but I gently shoo him away.
“I can handle it,” I tell him with a smile.
“That’s right, let Claudia clean it up. The bitch is good for that at least.” Tommy cracks up like it’s the funniest thing in the world and the guys are leering at me. I do my best to ignore them as I right glasses and soak water up. “This is Serena’s sister. I ever tell you boys that? I met Serena here one night and she was the most beautiful fucking thing in the world. I mean, look at her, a fucking angel.”