“We had a birthday recently,” I mention, trying to cheer us both up.
Maddalena grins. “We did. Legal at last. We should celebrate together, shouldn’t we?” I nod, loving the idea. Zeta gave me a phone for my birthday, so we’re able to exchange numbers and schedules. “What else did you get?” she asks.
I wasn’t thinking of presents, but I hold up my wrist. “This bracelet.” My heart still flips when I recall Nico doing that. “And a party.” I feel bad the instant the words are out of my mouth. I’m living in a mansion and attending a fancy private school while Maddalena lives in this shabby apartment and works more than she attends class.
“Is that real gold? And real pearls?” Maddalena asks, inspecting the bracelet. I nod, still feeling ashamed, but she jumps to her feet, opening her closet door. “I got these clothes and shoes for mine.”
My eyes boggle at the multiple shoeboxes, recognizing the expensive designer brands from the De Luca ladies’ extensive collections. The dresses are beautiful, too. Couture for a poor high school student? “Who gave you these?”
“One of the men whose house I clean. You’re the oldest,” she says, distracting me from her answer.
I blink, never considering that. “By how much?”
“Ten minutes. You’re prettier, too.”
“No, you are beautiful, Maddalena.” We’re not identical, but there’s no denying we’re sisters.
“That’s what he says,” she whispers, her cheeks flushing.
“Who?”
She doesn’t reply. Deciding neither of us should waste time talking about boys, we keep sharing other things.
“What was our mother like?” I ask, my throat clogged with fresh tears.
“Kind… mostly. Sad… often. She made good money, but Mrs. Esposito said the burial was expensive and whores don’t carry life insurance policies. She lets me work to pay off what she’s spent on my upkeep since Mom died. I’m working on my own arrangements now,too. Soon, I’ll be free of any debt and able to afford my own place.”
I keep my mouth closed, but something doesn’t sound right to me. If our mother worked for the Trio, shouldn't they have paid for her burial? Why would Maddalena have to pay her foster mother to live here? Wasn't she the one that should be looked after? I worry my sister has been taken advantage of.
“I heard that she died after I got here. I was so sad. I imagine it was much worse…”
“The worst night of my life,” Maddalena says, solemnly. “They wouldn’t let me see her body, but I’ve heard stories.” She shudders, and I scooch closer until I’m holding her.
“One of the men she… entertained?”
“Yes, he tortured her before he killed her.”
“What happened to him?”
“He died, too. I’m surprised you work for Nico Morelli, Matilde.”
“Why?” I ask, wondering what he has to do with any of this.
“Oh, I know he’s the Capo, and girls like us have to go where we’re told, but it’s just that… It’s his fault that man came to The Gentleman’s Post that night. It’s just as much his fault that our mother is dead.”
13
Nico
“Are you looking for a date, handsome?” the prostitute asks as I roll down the window. She flinches when the streetlight reveals my scar.
“I’m looking for Violet.”
“That old junkie? Rich men like you typically go there for your fun.” She jerks her chin toward The Gentleman’s Post.
“I’m not your typical rich man. Do you know where she is?”
The woman shrugs, leaning against my car and thrusting her breasts forward. “I’m a much better party than her.”
