Page 29
Story: Corrupted By the Capo
“Does it matter?”
I glared at her.
“I wouldn’t have asked if it didn’t matter, Molly.”
It would be easy to get pissed, but now that I had asked the question, I wouldn’t let myself get distracted.
“So what exactly are you asking? Are you asking if I was scared of how you beat the ever-loving fuck out of Fabiano?”
I nodded. “Yeah. That. I mean, I know one hundred percent latex-free balloons can be terrifying—especially when they are contorted into all kinds of shapes—but I think you handled those okay,” I said.
She was kind enough to smile at my pathetic attempt at a joke. That brief little lift of her lips wrecked me. Reminded me of how irretrievably gone I was, not like I’d forgotten. And then she leaned back, considering.
“No,” she finally said.
She spoke the words simply, as if she had thought about them and then made her decision and there was nothing else to it.
“You didn’t try to jump in,” I said.
She cocked her head and looked at me like I was the dumbest person on planet Earth.
“Of course I didn’t. What the fuck do I look like trying to break up a fistfight?” she said.
I laughed. “Smart girl.”
She smiled and then went serious. “But no, Enzo. I wasn’t afraid.”
She reached over and grazed her thumb against my knuckles.
“I guess I should have offered you some ice or something for those,” she said.
“Don’t worry about it,” I responded.
I barely felt a sting. And in truth—though I wouldn’t tell Molly that—I liked the pain. It reminded me of what I had done andwhoI had done it for.
“Although…”
“Why did you do that?” she said.
“Smack the shit out of Fabiano?”
“Yeah. I don’t know what you have going on with him, and I don’t care to, but popping off like that…” She trailed off.
“He called you a bitch,” I said simply.
“And he still has my two dollars, but that didn’t mean you needed to break his jaw,” she countered.
She smiled, but I grabbed her hand, holding her gaze until she met mine.
“Molly. Nobody—and I meannobody—disrespects you. They don’t even look at you wrong. Not while I’m there. And not if I hear about it. He disrespected you. He paid the price for that,” I said.
She nodded like she understood.
“Oh, I get it. So he talked shit about me, which is like talking shit about you, which is something that’s not acceptable in your world or whatever,” she said.
“No,” I said.
Something in my voice must have gotten her attention, because she looked at me, her eyes wide.
I glared at her.
“I wouldn’t have asked if it didn’t matter, Molly.”
It would be easy to get pissed, but now that I had asked the question, I wouldn’t let myself get distracted.
“So what exactly are you asking? Are you asking if I was scared of how you beat the ever-loving fuck out of Fabiano?”
I nodded. “Yeah. That. I mean, I know one hundred percent latex-free balloons can be terrifying—especially when they are contorted into all kinds of shapes—but I think you handled those okay,” I said.
She was kind enough to smile at my pathetic attempt at a joke. That brief little lift of her lips wrecked me. Reminded me of how irretrievably gone I was, not like I’d forgotten. And then she leaned back, considering.
“No,” she finally said.
She spoke the words simply, as if she had thought about them and then made her decision and there was nothing else to it.
“You didn’t try to jump in,” I said.
She cocked her head and looked at me like I was the dumbest person on planet Earth.
“Of course I didn’t. What the fuck do I look like trying to break up a fistfight?” she said.
I laughed. “Smart girl.”
She smiled and then went serious. “But no, Enzo. I wasn’t afraid.”
She reached over and grazed her thumb against my knuckles.
“I guess I should have offered you some ice or something for those,” she said.
“Don’t worry about it,” I responded.
I barely felt a sting. And in truth—though I wouldn’t tell Molly that—I liked the pain. It reminded me of what I had done andwhoI had done it for.
“Although…”
“Why did you do that?” she said.
“Smack the shit out of Fabiano?”
“Yeah. I don’t know what you have going on with him, and I don’t care to, but popping off like that…” She trailed off.
“He called you a bitch,” I said simply.
“And he still has my two dollars, but that didn’t mean you needed to break his jaw,” she countered.
She smiled, but I grabbed her hand, holding her gaze until she met mine.
“Molly. Nobody—and I meannobody—disrespects you. They don’t even look at you wrong. Not while I’m there. And not if I hear about it. He disrespected you. He paid the price for that,” I said.
She nodded like she understood.
“Oh, I get it. So he talked shit about me, which is like talking shit about you, which is something that’s not acceptable in your world or whatever,” she said.
“No,” I said.
Something in my voice must have gotten her attention, because she looked at me, her eyes wide.
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