Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 68628 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 343(@200wpm)___ 275(@250wpm)___ 229(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68628 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 343(@200wpm)___ 275(@250wpm)___ 229(@300wpm)
"And why doesn't that surprise me? Of course, you may drive today because I need to play with my new souped-up phone."
“I may,” I mutter to myself. “Good thing we’ll be at the club tonight.”
It's not easy to navigate the streets of Boston, so it takes us longer than I planned.
"OK, Adriano. We've told each other a little bit about our backgrounds, but I think it will help if we delve just a tad bit more, OK?"
I shrug. There are things I'm not going to reveal to her, but they're not in my background.
"Sure."
"Well, that was easier than I thought,” she mutters under her breath.
"What do you want to know?"
"You joined the Montavio family, you told me that much. You said your parents died when you were fourteen.”
I nod. She has a good memory.
“Tell me about that time?”
I nod. "I was alone. Homeless. On the streets. That's why I don't have a big, flashy apartment. I like having a small place that I don't owe anybody anything for. I like being able to come and go as I please; I’m a lot like you in that way. I also don't think an opulent place would suit my interests."
"Did you have to fend for yourself?"
I nod. "Yes."
"What did that involve?" Quinn doesn't often look serious, and she's staring at her phone while she's pushing buttons, but she's been in her home screen the entire time. It's like she wants to pretend that she's distracted, and these questions don't matter, but she's giving me her full attention right now.
"I saw a lot of things I didn't want to. I learned how to fight from the Montavios. Nonna fed me."
"Nonna?" She's obviously surprised. "No wonder she looked so happy to see you."
"Unlike a lot of the women in groups like ours, Nonna is proud of her family. She introduced me to the men I call brothers now. She introduced me to her husband, who was ruthless, and violent, and the father figure I never knew I needed."
That was a little more than I intended on telling her, but it's all the truth.
"Your turn."
"All right," she says, letting out a breath. "You're a very good driver, by the way."
I smile to myself. "Thank you."
"My grandparents raised me."
I nod, as if I didn't know this about her, as if I don't know everything about her that's possible to know. "Your grandparents? Why?"
The way she responds to this question will prove if we've developed any trust between us. I know why, we'll see if she tells me.
"My mother was too young and unfit to raise me, so the state gave me to my grandparents."
That's the truth, but not all of it. I nod, respecting her need to not tell me everything right now.
"They were super religious, and when I say religious, I mean ridiculously religious. Like church three times a week kind of religious? My grandfather tried to be a minister at the local church, but they wouldn't hire him. He was ornery and angry; he loved to take his temper out on me and my grandmother."
Her grandfather was someone who battled demons. That's familiar enough to me.
"He controlled every penny that we spent; he controlled every social interaction I had. I wasn't allowed to have the Internet, or a cell phone, and I wasn't even allowed to go to college. He expected me to marry somebody from my church, and be a good little housewife."
"And that went over about as well as a lead balloon?"
"You could say that." She points down at herself, waving at her gorgeous body. "You see these boobs? I didn't have them until I was, like, sixteen. I was homely, Adriano. My grandparents fed me rice and beans, and whatever they could get from the garden. We were poor, and I mean dirt poor. But they were way too proud to go to a soup kitchen, or to a food bank, or anything like that. So, we scrapped, and we saved. I had hand-me-down clothes and shoes that were donated to the church bin."
She looks out the window, twirling a lock of her hair.
"I was bullied a lot. Kids at school were cruel. They made fun of me because I didn't look like them, didn't talk like them, and didn't eat the same food they did. They were mean, and as soon as I was old enough to leave, I did."
"And your mother?"
My heart pounds because I don't know how much she'll tell me. She shrugs. "I never saw her again."
She's not ready to tell me the truth. That's OK, for now.
"Ironic, isn't it?" she says, laughing and shaking her head at the same time.
"What is?"
"Both of us came from nothing, and now you're filthy rich, and you'll give me diamond rings and fancy cars and fancy phones, and neither one of us really even needs these things. Do we?"