As for anger? Fuck. I can't let that one out, either.
Because the truth is, the real tragedy here is I'm the thing caught between the jagged rock and the hard place.
I can't work for him because of who he is, and I can't go and get another job. Things like waitress and barista are available, or working in a shop, but everything I think of—everything that has the possibility of paying me enough to meet my bills—needs someone better than me, worse, it needs someone with more experience than me.
And here I figured I would be dandy with my computer science degree, when it turned out that my real name slams doors, leaving me here at Barwon as Lola, with no other jobs out there.
I don't have time to waste looking for work.
Maybe... Maybe I could work and look?
I curl my toes in my sheets.
Or is the world I'm in too small to job hop?
I'm betting any market is too small to job hop, even here. And especially for me, someone with my grand old years of work experience reaching not even one.
I just wish I knew what went down.
All I know is Enzo went from hero to zero and cut contact with me. I know he has a sister. I only remember her as a baby from when he was last in my life. Their mom was dead, too.
I thought he was the best, thought we had a bond.
I was wrong.
I was...how old was I?
I can't remember my exact age, but I was something like thirteen when he vanished. His entire family vanished.
Not even a word.
While I don't know what happened between our dads—and mine refused to tell me anything other than they were now out of our lives, and to be careful of Mr. Marino as hewould do anything to destroy him—I couldn't fathom how it affected Enzo.
But it did.
And after the falling out, as I got older, Dad got more haggard, more stressed, as it became clear the Marino family did what they could to ruin Dad. Ruin us.
I never understood it. I still don't. It is too Shakespearian in a way to go from closest of close to hate and revenge over things that are muddied—at least to me.
Because it is clear to me that one moment in time was the turning point for Dad, and life wasn't ever the same. And I could, if I could bear it, trace back his death to that pinnacle of the family going from close friends to enemies.
Enzo and his father are to blame.
They might as well have shot him dead themselves.
Worse, whatever paths they shut down for Dad left him with no option but to follow darker ones. And I was there.
I might not know the details or who Dad mixed with—he went out of his way to mostly keep me from that side of him—but it was clear that Dad gave up, and with only the crime-ridden paths open, he got involved in things that screwed things up even more.
Shit.
I stand by it. The Marino family might well have shot him themselves. Because I know one thing—Dad would still be alive if Enzo's dad hadn't fucked him over.
I sit up, finish my water, and then reach for my Kindle.
My phone, which I put on silent, is glowing bright, and my stupid heart starts to beat wildly.
I have already seen Ruby, and it's not like anyone else texts me.
