Page 12 of Stolen Kisses
How did I know that?
Well, before Luc became a family man he had been with me.
We never had a label. I knew he wasn’t mine, but I was his.
These days he was shacked up with a wife that wasn’t me and his very own son.
Sophia had oh so gladly filled me in on all the various events that had followed my leaving. Anything she could use to be spiteful.
From Luc’s glorious wedding to Raphael’s daughter and the birth of their son. All the things that would hurt me.
When I had first left Chicago, I laid low for a year before I made contact with Sophia just to let her know I was alive. I never called Vira, because I thought Sophia would pass the message on. I did however leave a number so either one of them could call me. Vira never did and Sophia called only when she wanted to make me feel like shit.
It hurt for a very long time, at least until I met Franco
Mafia men and drug lords, different strokes for different folks, they were two different types of criminals. Very different.
I knew that now.
I looked around to see where I should go. The place was so crowded and looked like the spot to be. Chances of running into someone I knew were always higher in a crowd like this.
I knew I would run into people while here. I just wasn’t looking forward to it.
Over by the bar was even more of a crowd ordering drinks. The bartenders looked busy.
Shit, who was I supposed to speak to about this job?
I walked over to the bar and caught the attention of one of the bartenders who’d just reached for a bottle of gin on the shelf.
“Hi, I’d like to see the owner about the new job.” I began, hoping I didn’t sound too tired. At least she smiled. “Are they around or possibly a manager?”
One of the other bartenders called to her.
“Just a sec. I have to serve this customer.” She apologized.
She left me and that second turned into minutes. There were too many people placing orders and not enough staff. The girl was one of three bartenders. I moved from the counter, staying close just in case I got the chance to speak to either of them.
My heart sunk further into the chasm of hell when it looked like I would be getting nowhere far tonight.
I moved near a pillar and watched, feeling hopeless.
“Holding up the pillar, or is it holding you up, doll?” said a smooth male voice.
Another voice from the past to recognize for the meaning it held.
I turned to see his face.
Of course, he would have to be even more gorgeous than he was when I left, and definitely not like the guy I grew up with.
Dante D’Angelo.
He was that guy.
He was that guy you knew you should have been with, but had always turned away because there was someone else who filled your mind.
The worst thing in the world was running into a guy like that when he looked like a million dollars, waiting for Hollywood to snap him up, and you felt like ninety-nine cents.
Dante D’Angelo who went from scrawny when I met him at twelve years old when his family first moved to Chicago, to one of the members of the infamous Four, now capo to the new mafia boss.
