The Woman in the Back Room by Jessica Gadziala

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Six

Alessa

 

 

 

 

"What?" I grumbled, feeling Ciro and Gio's eyes on me.

"Are you... sewing?" Ciro asked in the same tone he would use to ask me if I had grown a third arm.

"Obviously," I said, holding up the needle and thread I'd pulled out while I sat in the living room at my father's house, waiting for dinner.

I couldn't cook.

So I wasn't allowed in the kitchen.

It was Sunday. Which meant that Santi had taken Avi to his mother's place for dinner. Which was good. Because I knew my step-mother would be offended if I missed one of hers.

And, quite frankly, it was the only day of the week I had a home-cooked meal.

"Who taught you how to sew?" Gio asked, sounding almost horrified at the idea that me, his tomboy little sister, knew how to do anything girly.

"No one taught me," I said, shrugging. "But when you grow up as poor as I did, you learn how not to have holes in your old hand-me-down Goodwill clothes, so the kids at school don't make fun of you."

I was actually really good at sewing. I was more proud of it than I was willing to admit. I'd used the skill more than once to stitch up some gnarly cuts I'd gotten as a teen since we'd never had any sort of health insurance.

"Why are you sewing, though?" Ciro asked, head tilting to the side.

"Because the dinosaur head got disconnected," I said, holding up the green costume in my hand.

"The... what?" Gio asked, perplexed.

"It's for Avi," I clarified. "He didn't want to trick-or-treat. He said he was too old."

"Shit, I trick-or-treated into my teens," Gio said, snorting. "Free candy. Why wouldn't you?"

"That's what I said," I agreed. "I got him to agree when he saw this blow-up dinosaur costume thing. But after the trial run of it, there was some damage."

Which was probably because the trial run involved a Nerf gun fight through the entire apartment, including his impressive jump over the couch to seek cover.

Sure, not my smartest idea.

But, hey, it was a good time.

"You like this kid, huh?" Gio asked, head cocking to the side as he watched me.

"He's a good kid. He got handed a rough situation, but he's coping pretty well."

"With your help," Gio said.

"I don't know about that," I said, shaking my head.

I was nobody's nanny or therapist or stand-in maternal figure. I was just the kid's friend.

In a way, he'd been allowing me to experience so many things I'd missed in my own childhood.

It was fun. I was having a good time. And I was getting paid for it. That was the best of both worlds if you asked me.

"Maybe you... hey, look who the fuck it is," Gio said, his attention going behind me where the door was. "The fucking prodigal son returns," he added, hopping up to go greet Elio.

It had to be Elio.

The youngest of the family, save for me. He'd been off dealing with some shit in Chicago for the past several months.

"Ey, Gio," Elio greeted as the two did a quick hug that involved borderline violent thumps on each other's backs. "Ciro, how you been?" he added, offering his hand. "Less. The fuck are you doing?" he asked, looking at me with furrowed brows.

"Didn't you hear?" Gio asked. "She's Mary Fucking Poppins now," he said, smiling as he whacked Elio on the back.

There was no mistaking the family resemblance between the Morelli brothers.

Elio was tall like the others, but was somewhere between Ciro's swimmer's build and Gio's gym rat build.

But where both Ciro and Gio were relatively clean-cut and traditional, Elio had tattoos on his hands, had full sleeves, even had them snaking up the sides of his neck. He had one of those "longer on top" hairstyles and a small stainless steel hoop in his nostril.

He dressed impeccably, always in a suit. But he went less traditional and much more fashion-forward with those. Meaning his slacks were much tighter, his cut to his shirts and jackets more form-fitting, and his colors more daring.

He went more tame on Sunday dinners, knowing his brothers would get on his ass about anything too "out there."

He had on a silver-gray suit with a silk black dress shirt underneath. Not just a plain dress shirt, though. This one had little light gray skulls all over it.

Just like just about everything else about him, Elio's name wasn't pronounced traditionally either. Not Eel-eo, but Ellie-o. El for short.

It was a concession Denise, his mom, had made when he'd been born and our father had insisted on using the family name Elio. She got to choose the pronunciation.

"I'm playing nanny and bodyguard to Santiago Costa's son," I explained to the confused Elio.

"That's, ah, that's a completely ridiculous position for you," El said, dropping down beside me. "Did you tell them that you refused to hold one of your cousins' babies because you were afraid you'd accidentally poke his soft spot and dent his brain?"

"It's a valid concern!" I shrieked, not for the first time. Soft spots were freaky and terrifying. "They shouldn't be allowed to come out until all their parts have fused, damnit. Besides, Avi is like eight and a half." He freaked out if I referred to him as eight. "He's not as breakable."

"She's knitting and shit," Gio said.

"I'm sewing, not knitting," I clarified.

"Didn't that kid just lose his mom?" Elio asked.

"Hence the need for a bodyguard, not just a normal nanny," I agreed. "What?" I asked, feeling Elio staring at my profile.

"Remember that time I got shot?" he asked.

"Which time?" I asked, smirking.

"That's a fair question," he conceded.

"It's your own fault for being so shootable. It must be your terrible personality," I said, getting a chuckle out of him.

"Anyway, the time I got shot in the back," Elio clarified.

Of course I remembered.

It was one of the scariest nights I'd ever experienced.

And I'd led a colorful and dangerous life.

I guess the difference was that in the past, the only person who could get hurt was me.

When it was someone I cared about, it was a whole other thing entirely. I'd felt like I was shot too. The fear and uncertainty had my mind and pulse racing, made me feel useless and damn near tears.

"I remember," I agreed.

"You'd told me to quit bitching and to stop bitching," he reminded me.

I had said that.

Because I didn't want him to notice the way my hands were shaking, my lower lip was trembling.

Better him to think I was an asshole than a hysterical mess.

"Well, you were bitching," I said, shrugging. "And I'm not a complete dick, El. I'm not going to shame a kid for grieving over his mother."

"Did you land the gig because you're the only bodyguard in the Family with a uterus?" Elio asked.

"That seemed to be the main reason, yeah," I agreed, the fact still stinging.

"Sexist fucks, huh?" he asked, nudging my shoulder.

"Yeah," I agreed.

"But I bet you have a chance to get in with Lorenzo if you do a good job."

"That is the hope," I agreed. Even if I'd only ever seen the man in passing.

"So, what is Ma making?" he asked, pressing a hand to his stomach. "I haven't had anything home-cooked in months."

The rest of the evening was loud and crowded and crazy. A typical Sunday dinner, really.

It ended relatively early.

Early enough that I really should have gone home.

To my own place. With my own bed.

But I found myself taking a cab toward the much nicer apartment belonging to my employer.

With the excuse of showing Avi his mended dinosaur costume. Though Halloween was still several days away, so there was plenty of time.

"Oh," Santi said, stopping mid-stride from his bedroom.

He hadn't been expecting me.

I knew this because when he did expect to see me around, he was always fully dressed.

But, ah, yeah, he wasn't fully dressed at all.

Nope.

He was wearing only a pair of black lightweight pajama pants slung almost indecently low on his hips.

I knew from Avi that his parents had been pretty avid exercisers. He said they both took turns running in the mornings, his mom would go to the gym while he was at school, and that his dad would go to the gym in the apartment building before bed some nights.

Clearly, it was more than some nights.

You'd never know it since it was always hidden underneath layers of fancy suits, but Santiago Costa was built. As in built. Like you could sink a fingertip into the indents of his abdominal muscles.

But he wasn't the obnoxious kind of muscular, either. His veins didn't poke out. He could actually rest his arms against his sides.

Damn.

Like goddamn.

It wasn't like I hadn't ever been thirsty before. But I felt completely dehydrated. Like someone had dropped me in a dessert for a week without a drop of water.

I would lick sweat off of the man's stomach.

"Sorry," I said, shaking my head, trying to knock the attraction loose. It was pointless, of course. Because if I was being honest with myself, it had been growing since that first night.

Superficially, of course. And likely only because I was in a particularly long drought.

And, let's face it, Santi was a good-looking man.

No, scratch that.

He was fucking gorgeous, actually.

I mean, that whole Family was now that Art was dead and all his buddies were gone too.

But Lorenzo and Emilio and Brio and Santi?

They could be models.

And maybe I only got so thirsty for Santi because I was closest to him. I saw him the most.

That was all it was.

Proximity to a hot guy.

"I wasn't expecting you," Santi said, eyes drifting over me.

No, not over me.

I never caught him doing once-overs.

He was probably just looking at the dinosaur costume in my hand. That made much more sense.

"Sorry. I just wanted to show Avi that I fixed his costume. The little butthead told me I couldn't do it," I added, smiling. "I want to rub it in his face a little bit," I admitted, getting a chuckle out of Santi.

"He likes being right," Santi said.

"I think that is a Costa Family trait," I told him.

"Probably," he admitted. "Avi passed out. I think he might be coming down with something. He never crashes this early."

"He was stuffy earlier," I agreed. "Ugh. I picked up a couple of his snot rags," I added, grimacing, wondering if I'd remembered to wash my hands after or not.

"Hopefully it was just allergies," Santi said, shrugging.

"Yeah," I agreed, moving across the open space to put the costume on the couch. "Well, I guess I'll get going."

"Don't," Santi said. Quick. Maybe even a little too quick. Or maybe I was just overanalyzing him too much because he was close and halfway naked and stupid hot. Yeah, the latter seemed more likely. "Stay. It's late. Why bother going back to your place?" he asked. "You practically live here now anyway," he added, laying on the persuasion.

And, honestly, he didn't need to.

Sure, I was somewhat fond of my apartment. It was mine. I'd spent a lot of time there.

But if I was being offered the choice between my tight shoebox and his palatial apartment? Well, I was going to pick the apartment every time.

He had the fancy sheets and the fluffy towels and the high-end coffee that didn't burn a hole in my stomach.

"Okay. That sounds good," I agreed. "Just in case Avi is sick, and needs to go to the doctor in the morning," I added, as if I needed an excuse even after he'd basically told me to stay over.

"Let's just hope he's not sick. He's a terrible patient."

As it turned out, Avi was just a little under the weather for a day or two. Lots of soup and sleep.

But the little petri dish went ahead and spread it to me.

I got big sick.

And I was a much worse patient than Avi.

"Bud, go," I grumbled, yanking my blanket tighter around my freezing body.

"I already got sick," he said, shrugging.

"I don't want you to get re-sick."

"You don't look so good."

"Thanks, bud," I said as the shivers started.

"I'm gonna call Dad."

"No, don't call Dad," I objected. "I'm fine. Really. I just need a little nap, okay? Don't burn the place down while I just get a little sleep."

"Okay," he agreed, rocking back on his heels.

If I were feeling even one-one-hundredth myself, I would have heard the lie. Avi, for all his many skills, was a pretty awful liar. Which worked in the favor of his caregivers.

"Avi," I whimpered when I felt a hand on my head. "I said to stay away. I don't want you sick again."

"It's not Avi, Alessa," Santi's voice said, low, soft, soothing.

"He didn't burn the place down, did he?" I grumbled.

"Not yet," Santi said as his hand slid from my forehead to the back of my neck. "You're burning up, babe," he said. I was sure he was just being nice, but the pet name was doing things to me that I knew were dangerous. "Have you taken anything?"

"No."

I'd woken up feeling like absolute crap. I'd barely managed to drag myself out of bed to check on Avi before I'd fallen right back into it, every muscle feeling like it was aching.

"Have you had anything to drink?"

"No."

"Okay. Alright. One minute," he said, giving my shoulder a squeeze through my blanket.

I'd somehow managed to pass out before he got back, needing him to nudge me awake again.

"Come on, Less. I need you to sit up to take this," he demanded when I tried to burrow deeper into my blanket cocoon. "Alright," he said, and I heard the clink of the glass getting put on the nightstand before his hands were reaching under the blankets, and grabbing me at my sides.

If I didn't feel like absolute shit, I would have went ahead and really enjoyed the fact that he'd grabbed me right at the sides of my tits, his thumbs almost, just barely, grazing the swells of them as he yanked me up to a seated position against the windows.

"Open," he demanded, pressing two round pills against my lips. "Good. Now drink," he went on, holding the glass up to give me a sip. "No, drink," he said when I only took enough to help the pills slide back. "You need to hydrate," he added.

"Ugh," I griped, but had no choice but to drink when he kept tipping the glass in front of my lips. It was either to drink, or to wear it.

I was cold enough already.

So I drank.

"Think you might have the flu," he added after I finished the glass.

"But Avi..."

"Had a flu shot," Santi told me. "So, he only got a little sick. I'm assuming you missed yours. Want me to take you to the doctor? They can give you that shit to cut it short."

"I'm okay," I insisted. I didn't think I could stay awake long enough to see a doctor. "Just need to sleep," I added.

"Okay. I'll check on you in a bit," he said, tucking me into the blankets once again.

I was asleep before he even finished.

The world could have ended and I wouldn't have woken up.

Until, of course, Santi started to strip me out of my clothes.

That sure woke me up.