RUTHLESS KING

5 WHAT'S THE WORSE THEY COULD DO?

Stella – A Week Later
Peering out onto Mulberry Street from behind the flimsy curtain, I huff out
a breath. I’m not going to be able to hide from Bo forever. Plus, the pezzo di
merda only extended my service of indenture when I told him I was deathly
ill. It wasn’t entirely a lie. The idea of physically being with him did make
me want to vomit.
But a week off work is more than we can afford, especially right now.
Which means, I’m going to have to come out of hiding. With any luck, I’ll
be able to avoid Bo today between classes and my shift at Nonna Maria’s.
My mind flickers back to a man I met at the café nearly a week ago.
He’d left me a fifty-dollar tip which had bought us groceries for the week. It
was the only reason I’d been able to take the time off. A pair of dark eyes
flash across my vision, and my stomach lurches. For a second, I could’ve
sworn I’d met him before. There was something so familiar about his touch,
those eyes, that penetrating gaze that seared right through the ridiculous
oversized hat and sunglasses I’d worn to hide from Bo.
Pazza. That’s what Mrs. D would say. I’m going crazy. Pulling the curtain across the window, I eye my phone on the bed. A
string of unanswered text messages awaits. Who am I kidding? There’s no
way I’m getting out of this thing with Bo. Is my virtue worth twenty-five
thousand dollars? I’m starting to think no.
There’s only one text message I do answer. The one from my best
friend, Rose. She’s been in Long Island for the week visiting her mom. A
part of me is happy she’s missing out on all the drama with Bo. She’d kill
me if she knew what I was considering after all I went through to escape
him.
“Hey, Stella, are you feeling better yet?” Dad’s voice seeps through the
makeshift wall separating my bedroom from the tiny living room.
Instead of telling my father the truth, I’d resorted to lying to him too.
My father wasn’t a great man, but I didn’t think he’d approve of me selling
my body to pay off his debt. “Yeah, Dad. I’m going back to work today.”
He pokes his head around the plaster barrier, eyes bloodshot. Dragging
his hand over the back of his neck, he smiles sheepishly. “Oh good.
Because I’ve got to start paying back that loan—” He smothers the rest of
his words, burying his face in his hands.
Cazzo. Bo probably has his goons harassing Dad because I haven’t
upheld my end of the bargain. “What’s the new payment schedule you
worked out?”
His eyes dart down to the floor. “Two grand a month.”
“Two grand?” I shriek.
And still, it would take over a year to pay it off. Not to mention the
interest. Dammit, I’m really going to have to do this. I’d have to submit to
Bo’s depraved fantasies to get us out of this debt. Worse, I’d have to delay
my move to Florida until the end of the summer.
“Get out … please,” I add after a beat. “I need to get dressed.”
“Sure, honey, I’ll get out of your hair.” Only he doesn’t move.
“What?” “I know you’ve been sick and all, but did you ever get a chance to talk
to that Red Dragon guy about giving us a break?”
“Yes,” I grit out. “I’m handling it, okay?”
“Sure, thing. Thanks, Stella.” He backs up a few steps, then finally turns
heel and disappears into the kitchenette.
If he asks me what’s for breakfast, I’ll lose my mind. Grazie a Dio he
remains silent as he shuffles through the empty cabinets. I throw on a shirt
and a pair of jeans, tie my hair back into a high ponytail out of my face like
Mrs. D. likes it and head out.
Hours later, I huff out a breath of relief when I make it back inside my
building. Spinning around to make sure the front door locks, I lean against
the worn timber with my bagful of Italian pastries. Somehow, I’d survived a
full day of work, but just barely. Bo’s cousin, Feng, spotted me when I went
outside to deliver a plate of cannoli to a customer despite my clever hat-
and-sunglasses disguise.
I’d quickly scooted back inside Nonna Maria’s and never came out
again. I must have looked terrified because Giuseppe, Mrs. D’s son and my
boss, asked if I was okay. I told him Bo and Feng were giving me trouble,
and he stood guard at the door for my entire shift.
The man was a godsend.
As are these cannoli. I’m starving. My stomach grumbles on cue, but I
force myself up the steps before giving in to the tasty treats. Dad must be
hungry since I doubt he’s left home all day, and our cupboards are bare.
I reach the top step, and my eyes land on our battered door halfway
down the hall. Cazzo. I sprint the rest of the way, dropping the warm bag of
pastries. With my heart jackhammering against my ribcage, my hand closes
around the doorknob which hangs on by only one rusty hinge. “Dad!” I call into the quiet apartment.
No answer.
My mind flashes back to a similar scene from the past. A dark room.
Blood splattered across the floor. Tears sting at the corners of my eyes, but I
will them back. I’m not a little girl anymore. And Nonno was gone. He
couldn’t be responsible for this.
Silently, pushing the door open, I tiptoe inside. I’m half-certain I’ll meet
the barrel of a gun the moment I cross the threshold. But I’m greeted only
by silence.
And a ravaged apartment.
Couch cushions are tossed to the floor, every single drawer and cabinet
is open, a broken lamp lies on its side, the glass from the bulb scattered
across the linoleum. Merda. I can barely keep the tears back now. “Dad?” It
comes out as more of a whimper.
As shitty as my father can be, he’s still my only living relative left.
Terror seizes my lungs and I drop to my knees, scanning the floor for
blood. My heart begins to function again when I find none. Breathe, Stella.
Inhale, exhale. I reach for my inhaler in my pocket and take a long pull.
You can do this, Stella. It has to be Bo. He’s trying to make a statement
because I’ve been hiding out. Well, fuck that. I’m done hiding. I’m also
done pretending I could ever do any of the vile things he’d expect from my
summer of servitude.
I’d find another way to pay off this damned debt if it killed me.
Pushing myself off the ground, I draw in another breath and march to
my bedroom. Like the rest of the apartment, it’s in shambles. From across
the room, a yellow post-it note clinging to my desk catches my eye.
I immediately recognize the dark scrawling. Mom always used to say
Dad should’ve been a doctor with his chicken scratch. An insane bubble of
laughter tumbles out at the idea of my father responsible for someone’s life.
I scan the note, my chest tightening with each word.
      
         „Stella,
They found me. You gotta help. Ask Mrs. D. for a loan if you have to. If you bring two thousand dollars,
they said they’ll release me. This is the address:
103 Canal St.
I’m sorry.I love you, Dad

I drag my hand through my hair, hot tears pricking at my eyes again. What
the hell am I supposed to do now?
I know Mrs. D. will give me the money if I ask, but it’s just not fair.
Nonna Maria’s hasn’t been doing great with the sudden increase in crime.
It’s been scaring all the tourists away. How can I put her in that position?
I pace the length of my shitty bedroom, mind whirling. “What do I do,
Mom?” I stare up at the ceiling and pray to a God I’ve long given up on.
“What do I do?” I cry.
Mom loved Mrs. DeVito as much as I do. She loved Dad too, but the
man that she knew was gone. I wouldn’t take advantage of our friendship.
I’d just have to go down to Canal Street and reason with them. There had to
be another way to get my dad out of this mess without selling my body or
risking Nonna Maria’s business.
What’s the worst they could do to me, right?