Spin (Songs of Corruption #1)(9)

I walked down the block as if I had a destination. I’d been foolish. I’d wanted him, spine to core, but he knew who I was. I couldn’t run away from what had happened with Daniel. Everyone knew, and any relationship I had would be painted with the brush of my humiliation. I felt that beautiful hand on my elbow, and part of my body continued forward despite his best effort.

“Wait,” he said, “you never let me finish.”

“I don’t want you to,” I said, letting him hold my elbow while I caught my balance.

“I was watching you because yes, I wanted to place the face.” I started to object, but he put his fingers to my lips and said, “And when I did, I was... how do you say?” He squinted as if trying to squeeze the word out of his brain. “Awestruck.” I pulled away and he let go of me. “Don’t go. It’s not what you think. Yes, I saw you on TV with Brower. You always stood so straight, even when they attacked you. Reporters, the other side, even your own people. And you never cracked. Then tonight, you stand up and tell me to stop hurting that man, like it’s your right under God to do it. You could run the world. Do you realize?”

I said nothing. I hated that he had observed my shame with Daniel so closely in such one-sided intimacy.

“Let me take you out,” he said. “My attention isn’t going to hurt you.”

“Look, I’m sorry. You’re nice enough. And I have to be honest, you’re handsome. Very handsome.” I couldn’t look at him when I said that. “But I’m a curiosity to you. To me, it’s still very real.” I folded my arms so he had to release my elbow. A bus blew by us with a shattering roar, sending a warm breeze through our hair. “I’m just not ready.”

“Let me take you out anyway.”

“Tee Dray!”

I spun around. Katrina jogged toward me from the parking lot, carrying a huge satchel and wearing Uggs with her leggings. She was early, and not a minute too soon.

“I’m sorry,” I said, backing away toward Katrina. “I can’t.” I felt her at my back, panting.

“Hi,” she said.

I turned around and realized she wasn’t saying hello to me. “Katrina, this is Antonio.”

“Ciao,” he said with a nod before he directed his gaze back at me. “You have my card, Contessa.”

“I do.”

“Ciao then.” He smiled, nodded, and walked toward the parking lot entrance.

Katrina spun around to watch him as he turned and waved. “Holy f**king hot fire.”

“Yes. Holy hot fire.”

“That’s not the same guy, is it?” she asked.

“It is.”

“Is he an actor? I could use him. Fuck, I could write feature films about the way he walks.”

“Lawyer. Italian. Which is nice if you’re into that sort of thing. You’re early, by the way.”

“We actually got shit done.” We started back toward the hospital. “Michael was a bruiser. He asked about you,” she said.

“Not interested.”

“How’s your sister?”

“Should be awake by now. Can you wait for me?”

“An hour. Then you drive yourself home,” she said as if she meant it. She put her arm around my shoulder and walked me in.

six.

hey’ll send a priest if you want to see one,” I said, sitting by Deirdre’s bed.

“I don’t need counseling.” My sister looked flush and healthy and energetic, despite being waist-deep in sheets. Nothing like a mainline of B vitamins to bring a woman to the peak of health.

“They can’t release you without it. And I’m sorry, but I agree with the policy. You could have died.”

“I’m a grown woman.” She threw off her sheets, exposing a blue hospital gown that matched my scrubs.

I put my hand on her shoulder. “Dee, please. I’ve got your vomit all over my clothes. We can get Dr. Weinstein back if you want.”

She tucked one curly red lock behind her ear, where it would stay for three seconds before bouncing in front of her eyes again. “I want to go to work.”

“You need a break from that job. It’s turning you into a grouch.”

“I can’t do anything else,” she said. “I don’t know how.”

One of the downsides of being incredibly wealthy was the ease with which one could go through life without marketable skills. The only ability she’d developed was compassion for people who didn’t have what she had and contempt for those who did. Self-loathing went deep, a trademark Drazen trait.

“There’s a trade school around the corner,” I said. “You could learn to fix cars.”

“You think Daddy would buy me a shop in Beverly Hills?”

“Anything to get you out of social work. Heck, I’d buy you a shop.”

She put her face in her hands. “I want to do God’s work.”

I held her wrists. “God didn’t build you to see what you see every day. You’re too sensitive.”

She took her hands away from her face. “Can you go to that thing with Jon tonight? At the museum? I don’t think I can take it.”

Jonathan was only seen in public with his sisters in the hope of drawing back his ex-wife.