Page 92 of Mafia and Gold Digger

“Look, I haven’t snooped through your things—yet.”

“So, how did you get that photo?”

“It was in the background check file the Imperiosi put together on you when you first started dating Ronnie.”

“The background check file? That sounds like spying. And that’s totally messed up.” She crosses her arms. “Why are you rifling through my life in the first place?”

“Answer the question, Emerald,” I say, tapping my finger on the screen.

Her lips remain resolutely shut as I get up and step toward the closet. She slams the door shut before I reach it and leans against it as if to further drive the point home that she doesn’t want me in it. “I didn’t give you permission to go in there.”

“You got to stop with the stealing. I’m being serious. And I’m just trying to understand you. Can’t you do something else if you really need the money?”

She flicks her hair over her shoulder. “This is better.It’s tax free.”

“Stop being so flippant, Emerald.”

“So what if I stole them? Anyway, it distinctly feels like you’re judging me, and I already have enough people doing that.”

“I promise I’m not judging you. I’m just asking the question because I want to understand you better.” I can’t help myself as I reach out and stroke her cheek with my thumb. “Why do you do it?”

She stares at me for a long moment before her shoulders drop a little. She pulls away from my grasp, taking a few steps over to the bed and sitting down. I follow and sit next to her, waiting for her to speak.

“There’s lots of reasons. The easy reason is that if I wear nice clothes, then on the outside, I might look like I fit in.”

“You fit in anyway,” I counter with a frown. “Plenty of people like you—Christian, Jacquetta, and lots of others.”

“And then...there’s the idea that the dresses give me a nest egg.”

“Nest egg?”

“If things go wrong, I can sell a few of them to raise cash. I’ve done it before—when we haven’t had enough money to make rent and stuff.”

I’m quiet while I think about all this. “I noticed some different dresses in the closet yesterday—new dresses that still have the tags on. You’re still stealing, right?”

She doesn’t answer me, but I already know the answer.

“You won't ever be poor. You’ve got lots of skills, and you even know how to hustle people with a game of chess.”

“But it's like my mom being a hooker,” she wails. “Just like looks fade, chess skills fade.”

“Skillsare different. You just need to practice them. You’re a smart girl, Em. One of the smartest I’ve ever met. You don’t need to keep stealing.”

“It’s not like I haven’t tried to stop. I’ve become so used to it and the high it gives that it’s become a habit. I guess the thieving apple doesn’t fall far from my father’s tree.” Her tone is light as she grins, but I can tell that it all affects her on a deeper level. She uses these comments and her smile as a defense mechanism, to try and stop people seeing the real woman…the vulnerable woman. She wants to protect herself against the world, against all the accusations that have been thrown at her—whore, thief, gold digger—and this is the only way she knows how to.

Neither of us says anything for a few moments. “Why not try going to a Shoplifters Anonymous meeting or something?” I suggest.

“How will a meeting help me? I’m too far gone…”

“For starters, it’ll show you that you’re not alone. But it’s more than that. It’s a recovery program. I think it could help.”

“I don’t think anything can help me,” she murmurs.

“I’ll even go with you if that’ll help,” I offer. Sitting in a meeting with other kleptomaniacs isn’t exactly my idea offun, but something inside me makes me want to help her. “We can go as soon as I find a local meeting. Just give it a try. If you don’t like it after the first meeting, we don’t have to go again. Deal?”

She stares at me for a long moment, so long that I think she won’t actually answer me. But then she releases a soft sigh before she slowly nods.

Going downstairs, Em heads to the laundry room to get something for Giulietta, while I go to the kitchen to get the coffee started.

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