Page 16 of Revenge At Raleigh High
“No, you didn’t.”
“I’m sorry?”
“If I heard you shuffling around out here, screwing around with the lock, you don’t think I’d have heard you actually trying to get my attention?”
He stares at me, dark eyes boring into mine. A moment later, he shrugs, shoving his gloved hands into the pockets of his thick down jacket. “Okay. Fine. You’re right. I didn’t knock. I was trying to break in. I just figured…”
I’m paying attention. Like,reallypaying attention. I’ve met Mr. Parisi a number of times since the night I sat down next to Silver and she told her parents that she was raped. I’ve been polite, respectful and I’ve made damn sure I never let things get too far with Silver under his roof. It would have been pretty fucking shitty to have had him walk in when I was balls deep in his pride and joy. All in all, I’ve been a model boyfriend, and he’s been…well, he’s been Mr. Parisi. Quick with the self-effacing jokes. Smart. Quiet, as a rule. Observant—I know when I’m being watched.
I haven’t really been able to get a solid read on the guy, to figure out who he really is, but never in a million years did I suspect he was the type of guy to break and enter. This is a new, highly interesting version of Mr. Parisi that I’m keen on meeting face-to-face.
He grimaces, kicking the toe of his rubber boot against the concrete step. “I wanted to see for myself what kind of shit you’ve got going on, Moretti. Silver…she’s serious about you. And I know how things are for a guy like you. I wanted to see if there was a stripper in your bed. I wanted to see if there were needles sitting on your counter tops. I didn’t want to give you any time to hide anything that might be damning.”
Okay. Fair enough. So, I might not appreciate the judgement, or the mistrust, or the invasion of my fucking privacy, but I respect his motives. He’s here looking out for Silver. He’s doing his job as a father. Letting my head drop back, I narrow my eyes, studying the guy. He’s nothing like any of the bastards I’ve found myself stuck with in the past. I don’t get alarm bells with Mr. Parisi. If anything, I think he’s pretty cool, which is weird since I decided a long time ago that parenthood, with immediate effect, turns people into raging assholes.
Taking a step back, I hold the door open, jerking my head inside. “Come on, then. Take a look. I’ll make sure to keep my hands where you can see ’em.”
He looks unsure, slightly annoyed and tired. Poor fucker probably hasn’t been sleeping much. I guess insomnia’s a reasonable side effect of infidelity and rape. “You think I won’t call your bluff?” he asks flatly.
“I’m not bluffing. Come in. I’m three seconds away from dying of hypothermia.” It’s fucking true, too. I don’t have a clue what the official word on the weather is, but it’s still snowing—at least another fifteen inches must have come down overnight and from the grey, ominous, brooding morning that’s breaking now, it doesn’t look like it’s gonna stop snowing any time soon, either. Definitely not the kind of temperatures you want to stand around in, not wearing a shirt.
Mr. Parisi grunts as he climbs up the step and enters the trailer. I grab the t-shirt I was wearing last night from the back of the couch, quickly throwing it on, pretty pleased that I’ve been able to cover and tidy up a little at the same time. The trailer’s by no means spotless, but I keep if fairly clean and in order. Gary, fucking psycho that he was, would try and knock out a couple of teeth if he found my corner of the basement in disarray. When I first moved in here, into my own space, where I could do whatever the fuck I wanted without consequence, I trashed the place on purpose. It felt like I’d won some sort of war every time I walked in through the door and had to step over mountains of dirty clothes and empty beer bottles in order to reach the couch. Wasn’t long before I was back in the habit of tidying up after myself, though. As it turned out, living in filth and chaos is pretty miserable.
Mr. Parisi casts a dark look around, taking everything in. His expression is blank, concealing his thoughts as he walks around the perimeter of the living room, scanning the book shelves, the side table where I keep the record player, the coffee table, and the little end tables by the couch that I snagged from a yard sale last summer.
“No ashtrays. You don’t smoke?” Mr. Parisi asks.
I prop myself up against the wall, raising my eyebrows. “Occasionally. Only when I’ve had a beer or two. Never around Silver.”
“So, you drink, then.”
I give him a wry look. “I’m seventeen. I work at a bar. Yes, I drink.”
He flares his nostrils. “Around Silver?”
“Yes. But never in excess. Never so I can’t take care of her properly.”
“Doesshedrink?”
I laugh softly under my breath. “I think I’m holding up pretty well under this impromptu inspection, but I’m not going to narc on your daughter. You know Silver. You know who she is, right?”
He glares at me, jaw working. “Of course I do. She’s a good girl. I trust her.”
“Then you don’t need to be asking me questions like that. You know she drinks, but you also know she’s smart. She doesn’t get herself into dangerous situations or do shit you need to worry about. Not after what happened…”
An anguished flicker of pain flares in the man’s eyes. I see my own feelings reflected in his face as he pivots to face me; it’s all there, the fury, the anger, the fiery need for vengeance. “She still won’t tell me who hurt her, y’know. She won’t give me their names,” he says quietly.
“Yeah. I—I guess she’s just handling it the only way she feels she can.”
“Butyouknow who did it, don’t you?”
“Mr. Parisi…”
“Why would she tellyouand notme?”
I open my mouth, relying on the fact that I usually know what to say in most situations, but this time I don’t. I grasp for an answer to give to him, one that makes sense and might even make him feel better, but that answer just isn’t there. “I honestly don’t know. Maybe…she’s just worried about you. Your family’s been through a lot of shit lately, right?”
He blows out a hard breath, grinding his teeth together. “That doesn’t matter. It shouldn’t matter what’s going on in our lives. She should know that she can count on me to be there for her no matter what.”
