I can lie, but I know him. Now that he’s on it, he’ll keep fishing until he reels in the truth.
Do I care if they know now? I decide I don’t. My eyes lock with Trick’s.
“Always.”
Chapter Six
Rachel
I let myself into Zoe’s old apartment. She and I have been best friends since middle school and as close as sisters since high school. She knew me when my mom was struggling to make rent during the times Frank withheld money to punish her from whatever little thing he was pissed about. She knew me when he refused to acknowledge that he had a bastard daughter. She knew me when my mom decided to leave Frank and he heard about it ahead of time. When he tried to have her killed and an innocent neighbor got killed instead. She knows my mom escaped, but that she didn’t get to me fast enough. Frank took me from school and brought me to his house. He believed Mom would come back for me and he’d have her. But she couldn’t. He would’ve just killed her if she’d come. So she didn’t.
I understand why she didn’t come back for me. It doesn’t mean it isn’t hard to take. For years, it was just the two of us. She was my world growing up. I loved her so much.
All my childhood, the thing I wanted most was for Frank to tell people I was his little girl. I wanted him to treat me like his legitimate kids, his sons. By the time I was a teenager, though, I was over wanting that. He’d called me his little bastard too many times and had threatened to hurt me if I ever told anyone I was his. I was sick of the way he treated me and my mom. I was glad when she’d had enough. I wanted to move away to somewhere warm and pretty, somewhere where no one knew us and we didn’t have to worry that Frank would get angry and withhold something we needed.
The irony of course was that less than a year after I decided I hated my father, he brought me to live with him, announced I was his daughter, and gave me a title. The Palermo Princess. He had someone create an Instagram account and make me into a brand.
I’m up to a six hundred thousand followers. Companies send clothes and products and pay for me to endorse them. Photographers who used to charge, now take pictures for free in exchange for being able to use some of them on their own feeds.
Alberto Leone and I met at a party for the granddaughter of a New York Mafia boss. Alberto’s only five inches taller than me. He’s got dimples, dark curly hair, and he’s soft around the middle. Honestly, in looks, he reminds me of a cherub. That’s probably why I didn’t get up and walk away when he sat down and tried to talk to me that first time. I mistakenly thought he wasn’t a threat. And I liked his sense of humor. When my sarcasm made him laugh, he joined in by critiquing everything at the party including the people. A lot of the women had given me dirty looks and said cutting things. Apparently it was breaking some rule for a mob guy to bring his mistress’s daughter into the fold and expect people to treat her like a princess. Maybe they worried their husbands would do the same? I wanted to tell them that I didn’t want to be there. I’d have given anything to get away from Frank and his brutal world.
After the first meeting, Alberto and I texted and talked. It was nothing at first, even though he wanted it to be a relationship. I guess my Instagram status made an impression on him and his friends. Pretty soon he commented on every picture that was posted.
Frank saw an opportunity. He started touting my purity to his New York connections. Wouldn’t it be nice for a father and grandfather to know their son or grandson was getting a virgin on his wedding night? It’d be like it was back in the old days. He played it up until people were sending gifts to the house for me and for him. I had dates with a bunch of different guys. I could usually freeze them out with silence and cold looks, but then there were complaints. Frank wasn’t happy. He put tons of pressure on me, even implied he’d take it out on Zoe and other people if I didn’t behave better.
Meanwhile Berto was furious. He was at risk of losing his place.
“People think you’re my girlfriend. Then they see you on a date at the Plaza with Sal Moro. They want to know what the hell’s going on. You’re making me look bad,” he complained.
I didn’t tell him that the dates were Frank’s idea. At least I didn’t tell him at first.
Frank was still hunting my mom, and he’d gotten a big lead. I got a message to her just in time, but the perpetual fear that he’d catch up to her and kill her finally got to me.
I convinced Berto that Frank had taken control of my social life and there were three other men higher on the list than Alberto was. I told him some of the terrible things Frank had done to my mom and me and that I’d had enough. If Alberto wanted me and wanted me to be free to concentrate a relationship with him, he’d find a way to get me out of Frank’s house once and for all.
When it came to syndicate business, Alberto was not a cherub. He’d grown up among killers and controlled a big part of his family’s operation. I fed him information, and he sent a team. They were supposed to help me escape while Frank was in a backroom poker game at the pizzeria. He always arrived first to have dinner. He only took the snake Pauly Mangia as his bodyguard on those nights, so one of the young guys would be sent to pick me up from school. If I snuck out early, I could get away before the enforcer arrived.
