Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 78295 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78295 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
I pat the back of the truck before heading inside.
Chapter 42
Hellie
Dad and I have a strangely normal afternoon considering he’s dying and I was just freed. The idea of having my own truck feels bizarre, but the weight of the keys in my pocket keeps reminding me that it’s real.
Everything is real.
We have dinner with Erick. He’s on his best behavior, although I can tell he’d rather kick my dad in the face than have polite conversation. We listen to Dad tell stories about his conning days, and Erick even laughs a few times, before Dad finally excuses himself for bed. “I’m old and sick and can’t hang like I used to. Love you, kiddo. And thank you for not putting a bullet in my head, Erick.”
“Goodnight, Dad.” I hug him and see him off.
Erick grunts at me and puts an arm over my shoulders. “He’s charming.”
“He’d better be, considering his occupation.” I smack Erick’s chest. “Come on, I want to do a little work.”
“Work? On what? You finished the painting.”
“On another painting I’ve had rattling around my head for a while.” I lead him upstairs and into the studio. He stands awkwardly as I arrange the space, getting the lighting just right, and place a chair next to the window, black with night-time dark. “Sit down and don’t move.”
“You’re going to paint me?” He seems surprised by that.
“Who else would I paint? Sit down.”
“I don’t know.” He hesitates, not moving. “You’re not going to ask me to strip, are you?”
“Not yet, but if you don’t do what I say then we just might turn this into a nude.”
He smirks at me but he perches in the chair. “If only you could be so lucky. My cock wouldn’t fit on the canvas, it’s much too big.”
I roll my eyes. “You’re a disgusting man, Erick Costa.”
“And you love it. What am I supposed to be doing here?” He puts a fist under his chin. “Should I look pensive and deep?”
“No, please don’t.”
“How about strong?” He sits up straight, arms over his chest, puffing himself up.
“Even worse. Just sit.”
“I don’t know how to just sit now that I’m thinking about it.”
“Fine, then don’t think.”
“How am I supposed to not think about thinking?”
I set up my canvas and my easel and start picking out paints. I lean towards blues, cool colors, sharp ones.
“Why don’t you tell me a story while I work?”
“I’m not much of a storyteller.”
“Yes, I’m aware. How about you tell me about the first time you came to Vegas? You’re not from here, right?”
He smiles, glancing away, and that’s the look I want to capture. I sketch it as fast as I can before it disappears.
“No, I’m not from here. I was born and raised in Jersey. Casinos are in my blood, in the Costa family. My father built our empire, turned it into a massive operation, and now we have hotels all over the world, from California to London. When Dad passed, my older brother Adler took over as the Don of our family, and the rest of us took a piece of the empire.”
“Don is the leader, right? That’s like a mafia thing?”
“Yes, it’s a mafia thing. You watch movies, right?”
“The Godfather is basically all I know about mob stuff.”
“That’s not a bad way to think about it, except we’re more like a business these days. We have our illegal operations still, but the casinos and the legitimate businesses are extremely profitable to the point that the illegal stuff is more of a liability than anything else. Adler’s been slowly phasing it out, although that’s difficult, since the family’s bigger than just the Costas. We have soldiers, captains, lieutenants, dozens of associates, and they’re all pushing their own agendas.”
“Sounds like a lot.”
“It’s a lot,” he agrees, leaning back in his chair. His relaxed posture is so masculine and powerful, like he can sit there and own the room without even trying. It’s impressive, this aura he has, and I try to capture that in quick brush strokes.
“Are you nervous about bringing me into all that? My dad warned me about it, you know.”
“He was right to.” Erick’s voice softens and his gaze goes distant. “If I had my way, you’d stay here in the desert house and never get anywhere near the Costa family, but that isn’t reasonable. You’re smart, talented, and beautiful, and I’m not concerned about you fitting in, but yes, some aspects of your life might be dangerous.”
“You mean, someone might grab me off the street and drug me?”
“Yes, exactly.”
“Been there, done that.”
“Good. I’m glad you’re already hardened to it.” He’s silent for a moment. I focus on his jaw, on his lips, on his eyes. The background is all darkness, shades of blue so dark it’s nearly black. He’s the only bit of light on the canvas.