Dead Man's Hand (Vegas Underground 7)

I throw myself back on the bed in defeat.

“Oh my God…” Lori whispers, plucking away the strands of hair glued to my face with tears. “Baby, I’m so sorry. But you’ve got this all wrong.”

“How?” I demand without lifting my head. Without looking at her. I’ve fixed my unseeing gaze on a point on the wall, and I’m not looking away from it. “Seriously, Aunt Lori. I’m not ever doing this again. Relationships are not worth the pain. There’s no point in trusting people to stick around.”

A stuttering sound comes out of her mouth. “Well… you pushed him away, right? You told him to leave. And now he’s staying away to protect you. So that’s not abandonment. That’s caring because you are enough. You’re damn special.”

“Whatever.” I mutter.

“Marissa… come on. You have to get out of this bed. At least take a shower. Come and sit at the table to eat—Nonna’s making manicotti.”

“No.”

“You have, to Marissa.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Please? Everyone’s worried. We just want to see you up and moving around.”

“No.”

Lori sighs and gets up and leaves. A few minutes later, Mia comes into my room holding the money she won from Gio. “Marissa?” Her voice is small and scared. “I’ll give you this if you get out of bed and eat dinner with us.”

I push her hand away. “No, baby. That’s your money.”

She shakes it in front of my face. “I want you to take it. Come and eat with us.”

Fuck.

I sigh and throw my legs out of bed. “That was a low blow,” I mutter to myself. Everyone knows I’d do anything for Mia.

I take a shower but my aunt was wrong. I don’t feel any better for it. In fact, I’d still like to curl up in my bed and die.

“There she is!” Nonna sings when I show up for dinner. She comes over and kisses both my cheeks. “You look better.”

“I seriously doubt that,” I mutter.

“So, Marissa really cared about Gio Tacone,” Lori says.

For fuck’s sake. I get out of bed for this? To have my horrible love life discussed at the dinner table? I turn and pin her with a glare.

Fortunately, my grandparents both ignore Lori.

“I love Gio,” Mia pipes up, which further destroys me.

“This feels like another abandonment for Marissa. You know, like Luisa leaving her? And now she’s swearing off relationships forever.”

If I weren’t in such a state of fuzz-brain, I might pick up on the accusation in Lori’s tone. As it is, I barely hear her words, I’m trying so hard to block them out.

“If you’re going to talk about me like I’m not here, I’ll just go back to bed,” I mumble and start to head out.

“No, no, no, no.” Lori blocks the doorway. “I’m sorry. I won’t say another word. Sit down. Eat some food. It will do you good.”

“Food doesn’t fix everything,” I mutter.

And I’m right. It fixes nothing at all.

Gio

I knock an empty bottle of Jack over when I startle awake to the sound of pounding at my door.

I’m awake, but I’m not fucking getting up. I’m lying on the couch in the same boxer briefs and t-shirt I’ve been in for days. Maybe weeks. I don’t know how long it’s been.

I ignore the knocking.

“Gio! Open the fucking door before I break the motherfucker down!”

It’s Paolo. Acting like the stronzo he is.

“Vaffanculo,” I call half-heartedly. Fuck you.

Growing up, we Tacone brothers made a habit of cursing in Italian so the nuns and non-Italian adults wouldn’t know we were saying bad words. Or at least, how bad the words were.

More pounding. If my door wasn’t solid wood, it probably would’ve cracked by now. Is he using his foot? “I said, open the fucking door. Now!”

Porco cane. It takes a huge effort to get to my feet, but I do. When I open the door, fucking Paolo punches me in the gut. “That’s for missing Sunday brunch and not calling Ma back about it, stronzo.”

I double over, wheezing. Cristo, I’m out of shape after not moving from the sofa for a week. Or maybe it’s all the liquor I’ve been drinking.

The door swings shut behind Paolo as he takes a casual glance around the place. With bloodshot eyes, I take a look myself. The place is trashed. Empty bottles of liquor everywhere. Takeout boxes.

“Jesus Christ. This place smells like ass. What happened to your cleaning girl?”

“I didn’t let her in when she came.”

Paolo makes a scoffing sound. “So, what in the hell happened to you?”

“Nothing,” I mutter, scratching my belly.

“Bullshit.” He peers at me. “Is that about the girl? She dump you or something?”

“Something. Yeah.”

“Well, what the fuck happened?”

That’s the thing about Italian family. They’re always up in your business. Have to know every fucking detail.

“It was Luigi. He showed up here with a box of cassette tapes.”

Paolo instantly understands. “No fucking way.”