Page 25 of Sinful Bargains

I nodded. “I get it. You’ve got every reason to keep your guard up. But I’m not here to mess anything up for you or Antonio. I just saw a kid who needed a day out, and thought I could give him that. No harm. No hidden agenda.”

For a long moment, silence filled the room. She studied me. I held her gaze, refusing to flinch, letting her see I meant every word I said. She let out a soft sigh and nodded. “Okay. Thank you, Joey.”

“Anytime.” I nodded. I debated bringing up the other day. Ilet out a sigh. “I’m sorry if I upset you the other day when you asked about the money.”

“No, I overstepped. It’s not my business,” she cut in. “I don’t want to know.”

“All I meant was—" I began to try and explain myself, but she held up her hand, stopping me as she cut in again.

“Please, I don’t want to know.” Her words stopped me. “I didn’t see anything. I don’t know anything. I’d like to keep it that way. I don’t need trouble.”

Our eyes met, the silence stretching between us. I hesitated, my hand hovering over the doorknob, lingering longer than I should have. I forced a small smile and turned away, making myself leave.

She had every right to be cautious. Her life, Antonio’s life, had clearly been through enough. She didn’t need more chaos. And I sure as hell didn’t want to be the person who brought it.

But there was something about that kid, and something about her, that made me stick around longer than I probably should. Antonio had started to remind me of a kid I never got to be—hopeful, full of wonder, still untouched by the darker things in life. And Adriana was strong, no doubt about it, but something about her made me want to be strong for her—I wanted to take the weight off her shoulders and carry it for her.

I wasn’t sure what I was doing here exactly. Perhaps it was just the guilt, trying to make up for all the bad I’d done. Whatever it was, I couldn’t shake the feeling that, for once, I was in the right place—even if I wasn’t sure I deserved to be. Or understood it.

ANTONIO

Life on Staten Island was better than it had ever been. After the Yankees game, I discovered a love for baseball. By the following Monday, I’d already made up my mind. I marched straight to Coach Artie and told him I wanted to try out for the team. There were just two problems. First, tryouts were still a month away. Second, even if I made the team, the expenses that came with it were steep—way more than I could ask my mother to handle when she was already working so hard to keep us afloat.

So, I came up with the next best idea.

“A paperboy? Are you sure about this?” She adjusted her victory curls in the bathroom mirror, turning to me with a hand on her hip, skepticism written all over her face.

“Ma, I’ve got it. Just a bike and a bag. It’s not like I’m working in a factory or something. It’s a win-win situation for me.”

“And how do you figure?” she asked, crossing her arms and giving me a pointed look.

“We need the money, right? And I’m the man of the house. So I have to help you out.”

She sighed deeply, her scowl softening. She didn’t want me to feel responsible, but she couldn’t deny the truth. “You shouldn’t have to worry about money, Antonio. That’s my job. And if you do this, I want you to keep the money you make.”

“Ma, you’re already doing enough. Besides, it’s not just about the money. This’ll help me get on the school baseball team. Think about it—throwing newspapers all over town is great pitching practice. Who knows? It might make me the nextJoe DiMaggio. Then you’ll never have to work another day in your life again!”

There wasn’t a baseball player alive better thanDiMaggio, at least in my eyes. I didn’t just admire his skills on the field; the fact that he once hadMarilyn Monroeon his arm made me admire him more. I’d always had a thing for blondes ever since I saw Marilyn Monroe inThe Seven Year Itch.

She sighed, shaking her head, but smiling this time. “Promise me you’ll be careful, okay? And promise me you’ll come right back when you’re done. You can’t be late for school.”

I knew she was more worried about someone spotting me and blowing our cover. But cops were rarely seen on the streets of Staten Island—strange, yes. But maybe we’d just gotten lucky, ending up in a place so safe the police weren’t even needed.

“I promise.” I forced a grin, even though I didn’t feel it.

The next morning, I stood in the alleyway behind the diner as Mr. Russo, a stocky man in his fifties with a cigar hanging from his mouth, leaned against a stack of newspapers. He handed me a canvas bag crammed full of neatly folded papers.

“You get these out by seven sharp, kid. No later. And don’t even think about skipping a house. Last boy who tried that? Docked his pay. You got it?”

“Yes, sir. Got it.” I nodded.

He smirked around his cigar. “Route’s marked on the map in the bag. Lose that, and you’re out.”

“Yes, sir. I won’t let you down,” I promised.

He turned away, and I slung the heavy bag over my shoulder, hopped on my beat-up bicycle, and pushed off. The streets were deserted in the early morning, and I already liked that about the job. The air was crisp, and the world felt hushed like it was just waiting to wake up.

It was the best thing in the fucking world.

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