CHAPTER SIX: WINTER
Italwayssurprisesme how the people at Delirium act as if the club doesn't reek of death.
The first time I'd witnessed a shooting at this place and the reaction of the workers, which was absolutely nothing, I thought that maybe I was missing something. As if the shooting had happened in a second realm that only I'd been a part of.
But the second time, it was clear the people just didn't care. They'd seen it, but they knew it was best to pretend that it never happened. If the Costa Family were to catch a whiff of someone talking about what goes on in the club, they'd be dead by morning.
In a battle of self-perseveration versus humanity, there's a clear and undefeated winner.
What's new this time though, is that no one will look my way or make eye contact with me. No one other than Amarie, who'd shown up the day after with a bright smile on her face and a red apple in her hand. She'd struck up a casual conversation with me before skipping off to her shift. But even the bartenders don't make eye contact with me when I get my drink orders.
And when I'd accidentally dropped my drink tray, sending glass and alcohol all over the floor, one of the other waitresses had run over to clean it up. The entire time, she kept her gaze on the floor, cleaning up the mess in a hurry.
But it wasn't until I'd bumped into one of the other servers that I realized the sudden shift was because everyone else was scared of me.
Or at least, scared of what would happen if they got on my wrong side.
I had been in the wrong when I'd bumped into the other waiter, not paying attention to what was in front of me. Instead, my thoughts had been on escaping, thinking I needed to find some way to get away from the family. The thoughts were delusional. I'm fully aware I can't go anywhere without them finding me, and my brother dying, brutally. But at least, a girl can fantasize.
I hadn't come to my senses until I bumped into another hard and warm body. I'd laughed it off, apologizing as I looked up at the man standing across from me. It'd been my first time seeing him, and I'd been surprised because most of the servers at Delirium are women, for obvious reasons.
As I'd apologized, the man only looked at me. I’d stopped cold, thinking I’d found myself toe to toe with another hitman. But the man took quick, uneven steps away from me, his eyes wide. He'd glanced over my shoulder as if looking for someone.
When I’d turned around and found Enzo standing not too far away with his arms folded over his chest and a glare on his face, I knew exactly what was going on.
The poor server had gotten away from me so quickly he'd almost fallen over. I could only return Enzo's glare before marching back to my section. Even though I'd already caught on to what was going on, I confided in Amarie later.
"Oh, Jerry?" she'd asked, referring to the new server. "He's worked here before, just got rehired. First thing he heard when he stepped foot through the door, was to stay away from you." She'd been casual in her answer as she picked up leftover glasses, the club closed.
"Who did he hear that from?" I asked her, sure where the news came from, but wanting her to confirm it for me.
She offered me a crooked smile, something unfamiliar lurking in her eyes. "Well, from your boyfriend, of course." She hadn't minced her sarcasm with the word, but I didn't care.
And I knew I couldn't say anything to Enzo and I sure as hell couldn't say anything to my boyfriend, Giovanni. Not unless I wanted him to slap the taste out of my mouth for questioning him, so instead I'd let my anger soak.
That was days ago, and I've resigned myself to the fact that I'm going to continue to be treated like an outcast at the club. And for worse or better, there's still Amarie, who keeps assuring me she isn't afraid of a pesky Costa. Surely anyone willing to say such a thing isn’t completely right in the head. And I'm still not sure if she's my friend, but I'll take what I can get.
A knock sounds at my door and before I can reply, it's being pushed open. Enzo stands in the doorway, his broad shoulders nearly touching the frame as he folds his arms over his chest. For a moment, I want to quip at him, ask if he practices the fear me look in the mirror. But since our last talk, he's been colder than usual, like he's finally picked a side like I told him to.
He's done being nice in brief moments, there's only the cold Enzo now.
Which is exactly what you asked for, I remind myself.
And certainly what you need.
"We have training," he tells me, his gaze focused just over my head.
I don't offer him a reply, sliding into the pair of flats sitting at my bedside. When I woke up this morning, I'd found my outfit for the day already sitting on the desk next to my bed, a plain pair of black pants and a black tank top. They’re both comfortable and practical, something I’m not used to in this place.
My breakfast had been brought to me this morning as well, which meant no sitting at breakfast with Giovanni. Which is great, considering he only uses breakfast time to look at me like he's going to take my head off at any moment.
Once I'm done putting my shoes on, I mirror Enzo's pose and stare back at him. He raises a brow the slightest bit but doesn't say anything, turning on his heels, expecting me to follow, which I do. He's the only one that I dare to push, ever so slightly. It makes me feel like I have some sort of power in my life. But I know that even he has his limits.
His steps are measured as he leads me down the hall, past the bathroom and the library I've only been in once before. No one else lives on my floor, so it's quiet. I stare at Enzo's back, wondering how he ended up in this position, as a prison guard.
I know that Giovanni and Maximo were born into this, even Vito, their parents having already been a part of the family. Even before I was taken, I had the barest of information about the families in the city and the ones surrounding it. Giovanni’s father had been in charge before him. I hadn't known that Vito's father was a higher up until I'd eavesdropped on a conversation between him and Maximo one day, or I guess you could call it an argument.
It seems to be the only thing those two do.