Vicious Minds: Part 2 (Children of Vice 5)

“He never told anyone. Most people didn’t even know the power was gone that Christmas. But I saw him.” Calliope smiled at him. “Your father was a good man. He helped a lot of people and never asked for anything in return.”

“Yes, because only the worst people get the spotlight,” he snapped.

“My father worked like a dog, day and night, taking care of this whole damn community, and you know how many people came to his funeral?”

“Six,” she answered.

Again, he paused and looked at her strangely. “Were…”

“Sadly, no, I wasn’t there. But I wanted to be, which is why I sent the gift.”

His eyes widened, and then his eyebrows bunched together as he titled his head to the side. “That was you?”

She nodded. “I would have sent a check, but I was worried that if we ever met, you’d think it was a bribe.”

“Why would you do that?”

“Because you are my people…our people,” she said and glanced at me and made a face before focusing her attention on him. “As you can see, from how he’s just towering over us still, Ethan’s not a people person… Babe, sit down.”

Babe? I looked down at her.

She pushed the chair beside her, motioning for me. We stared at each other for a while before I took the seat.

“Mr. Morandi, Mr. Sagese! I hope you know I’ve noticed that flask being passed around your table. I hope you brought enough for the whole class.” The men three tables over jumped at her their names being called.

They turned and looked back at her. “What, do you have eyes of an eagle, woman?” one shouted at her.

“More like the nose of a bloodhound,” I sighed.

Apparently, this one comment was enough to gain a gasp of shock. The only person not surprised was Calliope, who turned back me.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” She cracked her hand over her ear.

I grabbed on to it. “When it comes to wine, you have the nose of a bloodhound.”

She smacked my hand away, angrily. Rolling her eyes and then returned her attention to the men in front of her. “Are y’all sharing or not?”

“It’s one flask!” the other man complained.

“Always drinking as if we aren’t in church!” the woman beside him complained, pushing him.

“Church is over,” both Calliope and the men said. When they looked at her, she gave them a thumbs up.

“See, look at that, a woman who doesn’t nag,” the man said back to his wife.

“Oh, she nags…ah.” I hissed as she kicked my leg. “That was my shin.”

“I know.” She smiled brightly. “Bring yourselves over.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be serving?” someone called out.

“This isn’t a charity; this is a community brunch. We do charity at the O.S. center,” she called back to them, going against what she said while in church. She said whatever lie she needed to get what she wanted with such ease, it could only be a gift. “I came for conversation and before this one over here makes me spend time with damn Irish goons—” She stopped herself and looked at me pretending to be nervous. “I mean the very sophisticated and gentlemanly Irish men.”

A few of them snickered. I glanced down at her arm, which was behind her back.

“Are you crossing your fingers?” I asked her.

She gasped. “What? No. That’s childish.”