Mobster's Angel (Mobster Series) (8 page)

I was lucky to get into college. I didn’t give a shit in high school. My friends and I did whatever the hell we wanted, partly
because the teachers were scared shitless of Antonio. I did my share of scaring too, I guess. We never got in trouble when we were hanging with Tonio… not Ronnie, Louie, or me. Being the best friend of Palmetto, New Jersey’s mob boss’s son has its perks.

Ronnie and I are
both here at NJU. I think my Pop pulled some strings to get me in here because my GPA and
don’t give a fuck
attitude didn’t win me any scholarships. Ronnie and I signed up for the same general education courses this semester. Not that cheating off him would do me any good. He’s just as bad as I am.

Our parents rented us an apartment right outside
of campus: two bedrooms, two baths, a big kitchen and a living room. My mom went crazy with the decorating. The apartment looks like IKEA threw up in there. It’s cool though. It’s better than living in the scummy dorms.

“English fucking Composition! I barely made it through senior English.” Ronnie moans as we park my car in the student
parking lot.

“Shut up. We haven’t had a class yet.”

“At least we didn’t have to roll out of bed ‘til eleven.”

I shrug at
Ronnie’s lame attempt to look at the bright side.

We grab our shiny new
textbooks and start walking across campus.

“Wow, there are a lot of hot girls
here!” Ronnie ogles some walking to class.

Grassy areas line the parking lots. Benches and walkways zig and zag to all the different buildings. Scampering students
go to and fro, some rushing along, some talking. Ronnie and I take our time, as usual, not giving a shit. We jog up the steps to the English department. Our class is right at the end of the hall. Ronnie stops me.

“Dude, we’ve got ten minutes. Do we have to go in there and sit down now?”

“Come on, lazy ass.”

I pull him by his t-shirt to the door. We scan the room of people who have already come in. Everyone is sitting sporadically
around the room. No two seats together are filled. Every single person in there has their book open and is reading.

Well shit.
I can already tell the type of people who have signed up for this class.

Ronnie and I take
our seats in the back together. Ronnie mocks the others in the room by opening his book exaggeratedly and pretending to read. He is such a stunad.

I swipe my eyes across the room again as more people file in. In a matter of second
s, my heart thumps wildly, and my focus zooms in on a pretty petite girl with black hair. She keeps her head down as she reads, but I’m positive that it’s her. I elbow Ronnie.

“Look over there.” I discreetly point, my voice low.

“Where?”

“Second row, third seat back.”

He shrugs, “Yeah, she’s cute for a goth.”

“No, jackass. Look at her. That’s Megan’s sister.”

“Huh?” He looks over at her again. “Where’s her fuckin’ red hair?

“Are you stupid? She must have dyed it.”

“Why would she do that?”

“Bigger question is what’s she doing here? She’s a sophomore
in high school.” My heart rate spikes, and I nervously check the time on my cell phone.

“She should be in lunch right now
, hundreds of miles away at that fancy school her parents sent her too.”

Erin’s hair hangs in a wavy curtain pulled to the side of her neck
- black instead of red. Her profile shows her eyes are darkened with make-up. Her clothes are solid black. She is still petite and small… fragile like a doll. But she has a very serious look on her face while she reads her book.

A knot twists in my gut when I remember her pale and fragile lying in my arms.

Her father sent her away to a fancy high school with Clarissa Mancuso, the Chicago Mob Boss’s daughter. She wasn’t at that school for too long. I wonder what's going on. Antonio never said anything to me about her being back. I don't ask questions, but when he talks about her I listen. I want to know everything about her, even when I shouldn't.

I
consider going up and talking to her, but I know I’d feel like an idiot.  Our time in South Bend and Chicago seems like a lifetime ago. It was a tough time for her and I was trying to keep her safe. We aren’t as close anymore. And besides, what would I say? “What are you doing here?” She looks lost in her book anyway.

Ronnie breaks me from my thoughts.

“Dude, what the fuck is wrong with you?”

I shove him with my hand.

“You look like a crazy lovesick puppy or something,” he chastises me foolishly.

Some asshole sits down next to her. His books thunk on the table. She turns her head. He smiles at her, and she fucking smiles
back.
Fuck!

I can't hold back any
more. I want to rip this chooch’s head off and drag her away to sit by me. Or better yet, back to my apartment.

I can’t stand seeing her like this and not being close to her.
I go to get up and say something. I get out of my seat slowly, talking myself down from wanting to shred the skin off the loser next to her. The walk from my seat to hers deadens my legs and movements. The shock of seeing her is overwhelming. I manage to get myself to her seat, and I hover over her, glancing down.
Shit!
That face, that tiny body.
Even with her black hair and makeup, she is breathtaking to me.

Her little
friend notices me first, and I watch him shrink back at the sight of me. Slowly, I see her turn towards me and tilt her head up.

She sees me.

I can tell by her expression that she is just as shocked to see me as I am to see her.

“Goo
d morning! I’m Professor Elden.  If you’re not supposed to be in English Comp, then you’re in the wrong place.”

I look behind me and lock eyes with the teacher.

“Can I help you? Mr…?” She pauses, expecting me to finish the sentence for her.

“Rossi. Vito Rossi.”

“Please have a seat, Mr. Rossi.”

I behave myself and go back to sit by Ronnie. I am so confused.
Why is Erin here? Why didn’t Tonio tell me she was coming back?
I can't help but wonder why. I talk to him every day, and I see him and Megan all the time. I'm really not sure what's going on.

Why? Why fuckin’ everything?

After all I
’ve heard and seen, I thought that nothing could play with my disbelief. I was wrong. Seeing Vito hovering over me left me speechless. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen or talked to him. He hasn’t called or texted since I left for school from Chicago.  I have a new phone, but Vito must know that Antonio has the number. They’re best friends.

The teacher’s voice
drones at a pitch that I can’t concentrate on. I’m afraid to even move my head. Part of me feels embarrassed by all that Vito knows about me. I can’t put my finger on why. Antonio knows all about me, and Troy does too. They don’t bother me. I run my fingers through my hair nervously. I see the strands out of the corner of my eye and the color still makes me do a double-take – black, not red.

The guy
next to me, Kirk, who I met yesterday in physical science class, he’s in the H.S.+ program too. He notices that something’s wrong with me. He leans over.

“You okay?” he whispers
. I nod.

“Is that guy bothering you?” he asks, adding a little toughness to his voice. I almost want to laugh. Vito would pulverize this guy.

I shake my head no.

I sit and stare at the teacher and open my book on cue and write in my notebook at the correct times
. But I’m in awe of seeing Vito and Ronnie.  Eyes bore into the back of my head.  I know they’re Vito’s.  He’s so intense.  That will never change about him.

I
don’t hear the teacher dismiss the class; I only notice the commotion around me.  Books closing, backpacks zipping.

“You ready?” Kirk asks
, standing up.

I shut my book and close my notebook.  I shove them into my black messenger bag with white skull heads on it.  It’s a little
more over the top than what I normally carry, but I like it.  It’s a dangerous bag.  It’s part of my new image.

I sense someone lurking behind me.  I twist to see
that it’s Vito and Ronnie.

“Hey!”
Ronnie says.  “How you doing, Kid?”

“Good,” I say meekly, not really sure why my voice sounds smaller than usual.
“How are you?”  I ask politely.

“Can’t complain,” Ronnie comments. 
“Surprised to see you.”  Vito doesn’t say anything.  He looms as usual, but is quiet.  His eyes shoot ominously to Kirk a few times.  “We’re going to grab some lunch, you wanna come?” Ronnie asks.

T
he offer startles me, causing me to fall all over my words.  “Oh. Uh, no, I can’t.  We have study group,” I tell them, swishing my finger between Kirk and me.  “Thanks though.  Well, we’ve got to run.”  I say and scurry away with Kirk in tow, feeling very awkward.

“Who are those guys?” Kirk asks.  “The
y’re like people you see on America’s Most Wanted.”

“No…” I pause.  “T
hey’re really nice guys.  A little intimidating, but nice.”

“Yeah, just a little,
” Kirk shoots back sarcastically.

I giggle.

*****

Our study group consists of the ten specially selected high school students
from across the state.  We meet in the library.  We got together before classes even started to plan out a strategy to meet the objectives of the program, to work out a schedule, and to compare class syllabi. Most of us are very enthusiastic, knowing that our shaved down time in college will let us move on to graduate school or the field of our choice more quickly.  All except Kevin: I think his parents made him apply for the program.  He’s really surly and could care less about even showing up for class.

Every library I have ever been to smells the same.  The books carry that old paper
aroma.  Our table is in the corner by a huge picture window.  It’s round and large enough to seat about fifteen people.  It’s made of a dark wood that’s been seasoned with carvings of initials and profanity.  I plop down my stuff and take out all of my books for each class.  We get to work, deciding to start with science and end with composition.  That way we can do the final drafts of our papers at home.

“The science is so easy.  I thought this was supposed to be college,” Kirk comments.

“It’s not too bad.  I agree,” I add, rummaging around in my goth messenger bag for a pencil. I can feel his eyes on me, trying to figure me out after the incident with Vito and Ronnie earlier. I find my pencil and sit up to start my work.

“So, are you going to tell me about your friends
?”  Kirk air quotes friends.

“What’s to tell?” 
I stare at him evenly, challengingly. I am NOT going to spill my guts to Kirk about people breaking into my house, my father’s real occupation, and being a vegetable in Chicago.  No.  I. Won’t.  Like Antonio said,
“
People should only know what they need to know
.”

“Come on…” he urges.

“The big guy, Vito? His best friend is marrying my sister.”

I go back to organizing
my bag in an attempt to end the conversation.

“That’s it
?”

“That’s it,” I repeat
, uninterested.

“There has to be more to it than that.”

“Why?” I ask, pissed. One of the note books in my bag gave me a paper cut.

“I
’m a good judge of people, and  I sense two things.” Kirk says matter-of-factly.  “One, Vito is not some mild mannered college boy, and two, he’s in love with you.”

“
Kirk, come on,” I sigh.  “Listen. We have a history, but not the kind you’re thinking, okay?  That’s all I can tell you.  Now, get your stuff out,” I order.

Kirk drops it
, but I don’t think he’s done questioning me.

Ronnie and I follow the same path as Erin and her fuckin’ weasel-ass-boy-toy until they veer off towards the library. 
Is she seeing that kid?
  She didn’t even introduce him.

“We’re joining
a study group,” I murmur to Ronnie.

“What?  Are you crazy?
I made it eighteen years without ever being in a study group.”

“Shut the fuck up, we’re joining.”
  I say to him, trying to control the swirling fog of confusion in my head.

*****

“Dude, you’re early. We don’t need to leave for another half an hour,” Tonio says. I don’t even remember getting out of my car, climbing the steps to his house, and walking in.