I flinch as I suppress my anger. The last time I got into a fight was outside my sorority when I was twenty years old and I can’t remember if I won or if my sisters just pulled me off the other girl. I can’t run around beating people’s asses anymore. I’m toomatureto solve my problems with violence.
“Go ahead, Inessa. And make sure you’re ready to prove in court that your so-called pregnancy is a result from an encounter with mydeadhusband. I have no evidence of your decency.”
“I’d rather be a slut than a frigid bitch who sucks in bed.”
Rana takes one of my big law school books and smashes it across Inessa’s head. I didn’t even notice her slinking slowly towards my bookshelf and I knew she was up to something when she stood behind Inessa, but Rana moved swiftly and it’s instant hell once she smashes Inessa’s head forward into my desk.
“My veneers!” Inessa screeches. “You ugly curry scented bitch.”
Rana slams the book against her head again. My heart pounds as adrenaline floods through me and I’m torn between my long-term responsibilities and my desire to watch Inessa get her ass beat. I stand up as blood spurts over my desk.
“I’m going to get David to clean this up,” I say to Rana. She gives me a confused look and I nod. If she wants to beat Inessa’s ass a little more before I get to our janitor? I’m going to let her.
“I’ll stop by security and make sure the room is dark.”
Inessa tries to escape, but she underestimates Rana’s abilities. Rana grabs her hair and rips out enough of Inessa’s extensions that she yowls in pain and falls to her knees. I move around my desk and walk past them slowly. Rana’s eyes lock with mine one last time before I leave her alone with my ex-husband’s mistress in my office.
“Thank you,” Rana mouths.
I make a quiet mental note to add an extra zero to Rana’s Christmas bonus.
Chapter Sixteen
Gino
I’m handling the court situation well – in my opinion. Peter hired a great lawyer for me and all I have to do is listen to the family to keep my ass out of prison for good.
I’m just happy that I can put what I learned in Italy to good use.
I’ll be fine as long as I keep my head down, exercise, pray, and remember that I serve a greater purpose. Dad wants me close until I go to trial. He thinks the plea deal is bullshit and by hiring this fancy law firm, I’ll be out of trouble completely soon. I never thought my father cared much about what happened to me, but this trial has taught me differently.
My father doesn’t do anything casually. Tonight, I meet him on the dock of Lake Erie so he can take me out on the boat for a sunset chat. I dress up in a pale grey seersucker suit and make sure to bring his favorite brand of dry white wine from Italy from Renzo’s cellar rather than my personal collection.
Paranoid about wire taps, dad wants me to have all my conversations with him out on the boat. When I meet him at the dock, he’s already sitting in a Coleman camping chair smokinga cigar. He gets up, unsmiling and holds his arms outstretched so I can hug him and kiss his cheeks. Leandro Taviani gives very wet Italian greetings and I struggle not to wipe his spit from my stubble when I pull away.
“Look at you, eh? I am so proud of you…”
Dad smiles at me and I want to be above that surge of pride in my chest, but I’m not. From as early as I can remember, I knew my father was both powerful and different from the other fathers around. He could shift the emotions in a room with ease and he was very open with us children at least about his high expectations and the consequences that would follow not meeting those expectations.
My voice shocks me with its tightness as I greet my father. “Good evening.”
“Come on, let’s go for a drive.”
The water is calm for a change. Dad drives us out to the middle of the lake. We can’t do much talking while the engine roars. The sun paints the sky a beautiful orange and pink color. My heart stops as I realize that this may be one of the last times I see the sun setting on the lake for… I don’t know how long.
“How’s it going with the lawyer?” Dad asks when the boat stops. I don’t want to blame him for getting straight to business.
“Good. We’ll see what he says about the judge.”
“So you’re working with an associate? Not the boss.”
Dad keeps track of far more than I give him credit for.
“He seems sharp.”
“Okay. We’re paying enough to get you off. It should go well. Trust, kid. Trust.”
I try not to sound scared, but I have to express the truth out loud now that there’s nobody else to hear it but my dad and the empty lake. “I could be in there for life if we screw up.”
