Rosalia
“Shit!” Even though Cilla scared the crap out of me, I didn’t shout the word. I hiss-whispered, not wanting the man in my room to hear.
“I live here, remember?” She grinned at me.
She was in her pajamas, but she hadn’t been for long. She didn’t get in until right before dawn, and she looked too happy for a woman who supposedly had broken it off with the love of her life.
She didn’t seem to even notice when I narrowed my eyes at her. She took in my dress instead. A leopard print maxi that was airy and flowed.
“I know what that dress is saying,” she said. “I’m trying to impress but not.”
“No. This dress is saying,you need to be comfortable and stylish, so here I am.”
“Like I said, trying to impress but not.”
A heavy breath left my mouth, and I curbed the urge to pinch the bridge of my nose.
“Next time I do a show for you,amica, it’s going to be ‘Free Falling.’ Either version will do.”
“Whatare you talking about?”
She looked behind me, at my door, and then back at me again. “This is why they don't like you. The girls you work with.”
Her assessment almost made me stumble back a pace. I had never told her about none of them liking me, but she was smarter than she should be at her age. Youth was not wasted on this one.
“You’re like the girl in that song. A good girl. Too good, for some. And if you’re too good, they think you’re hiding something. Like there’s really a raving bitch underneath all that beauty.”
“Iamnice,” I said, my tone a little too defensive.
“I know that,” she said. “But it makes you seem sneaky.”
“I can be a bitch when I want to be,” I said.
She grinned a little. “Yeah, you have some of that in you, too. Don’t change for anyone,amica. You’re a good mixture of both.” She watched me for another second. “You can be niceanda bitch sometimes, and that’s totally okay, but only an unsteady girl would harbor someone like Aniello Assanti.”
“What are you talking about?” I crossed my arms over my chest.
She hadn’t been in my room. After I’d heard her come in, I went out to check on her. She couldn’t have seen him.
“He’s in your room. You didn't rat on me, and I won't rat on you.” She held up her hand, like she was swearing. “I don't know the rules, exactly, but I know this must be wrong. You're the help, and he is who he is. Just like any typical boss-worker situation, right? Minus all of the illegal shit going on at a ‘company’ run by business-minded gangsters.”
“How did you know he’s here?”
“I can smell him.”
“How do you know his smell?”
“What’s this? Twenty fucking questions?” She scooped Bambina up when she went to pass, rubbing her behind the ears. “He’s been over to my house before, all right? He always smells like citrus and blood to me. In terms of food, I’ve always thought of him as a blood orange. But this time, blood is the strongest. Besides, I think he might be a distant cousin or something.”
“So you like him?”
She barked out a laugh. “I loathe him entirely. The only reason I don't go in there and stick my finger in whatever kind of wound he has is because his fangs and claws will come out.”
I decided I didn’t want to talk to her about this anymore. “What happened with Joey?”
“We’re talking aboutyouright now, and why you’re harboring a madman in your bedroom.”
“He’s hurt,” I said.
