Chapter 17
We rode in a black Cadillac Escalade with tinted windows and giant tires
that protruded about two inches from the body, flashy chrome rims with spokes
that looked like knives, and silver flames on the hood. Dom drove, and Letty
and Vince followed behind us in her Viper. Dom was brooding and somber,
dark eyes concealed by silver shades, a white-knuckled grip on the wheel.
He kept looking in the rearview mirror over his shades, and when I turned
around, I saw that Vince was sleeping and Letty didn’t look much happier
than Dom.
So I followed Leon’s example and just was quiet. Dom had made Letty and I change out of our skank clothes and into two of my dresses. The effect on Letty bordered on hilarious, and I grinned now, seeing her as she had been a few hours ago, hair in her face, arms folded over her chest, scowling horrifically.
“Stop,” Dom had said. “These are professionals. You can be a girl for one weekend.”
I dropped my head into Leon’s lap and stared up at him, and he smiled down at me, cupping the side of my face in his hand. I closed my eyes, a soft smile on my lips, and thought of all the things those fingers had done to me, and as my thoughts got away from me, I swallowed hard, felt blood rush to my nipples, and squirmed a little. Leon saw right through me, and when I opened my eyes and looked up at him, he was smirking. He moved his hand down off my face and rested it over my breast, and my back arched into his touch without my permission.
“AWOL, Dom,” he said, and Dom nodded without looking back. I looked up at Leon.
“What?”
“Means we’re busy,” he said. “We’re goin’ AWOL. In other words, don’t look.” I laughed, and I looked at Dom in the rearview. He was smiling a little. Leon covered my mouth with his and I closed my eyes. He took my nipple between his thumb and forefinger, and I felt an irrepressible urge to move my hips, biting down on my bottom lip. He lifted his hand a minute, then slipped it into the neckline of my hideously sensible powder blue sundress. He worked his fingertips into the cup of my bra and brushed them lightly over my bare nipple, eliciting this low moan from somewhere inside of me and I have no idea where it came from. I blushed a little but didn’t open my eyes, turned my face into the hardish wall of his stomach and gripped his white cotton dress shirt in one hand. He leaned over, with his free hand, and caught the hem of my skirt, pulling it up over my thighs to rest on my hips, and he drew a shaky breath as he slipped that hand into the waistline of my white velour thong, cupping me, his other fingers a steady pulse on my chest, and he pressed down with two of his fingers, slipping them up between my lips until they hit me right on the rocket, and I almost jumped out of my skin, let my legs fall open, one of them dropping to the floor, and I covered his hands with mine, shaking out of control. I was vaguely aware of Dom, wondered if he was looking, but didn’t really care; I owed him one.
Leon used my own wetness as lubrication, and everything was slick and hot. I bit down hard on my lip to keep quiet as I felt it all building again, that steady thrum from before, the mounting urgency, only this time I wasn’t afraid. I wanted it, wanted to feel this. The Escalade was suddenly airless…I couldn’t pull in deep enough breaths, was gasping, but I felt like I was yanking water into my lungs. My heart started pounding, thundering and there was this crazy weakness in my knees. This tingling was spreading up from the apex of my thighs into my lower belly and lingering there, growing more and more intense and I was a little panicky but couldn’t stop him, didn’t want to, and then, suddenly, something gave and broke and everything came crashing down around me. In movies I’d seen, women had screamed and called out and carried on, but I went silent. Completely silent, my head spinning, holding my breath, and everything between my legs was throbbing against his hand, these wild waves of sensation rolling over me with each pulse, until it faded and left me awash in this warm, humming calm. I didn’t want to open my eyes, and I knew I couldn’t speak, so I didn’t try, because I wanted it to last forever. Only Dom’s gentle laughter shook me from it all, and that low, full voice,
“Well, there you have it.” Leon pulled his hands out of my dress, and I opened my eyes and blinked up at him. He put one hand in my hair and the other on the plane of my stomach and smiled softly down at me, the faint hint of a blush in his cheeks from Dom’s comment, but there was no redness in mine. I didn’t care what Dom had seen and heard. Leon had just shown me what all the fuss was about. I felt this slow sort of smile spread across my face and I rolled onto my side and hid in his stomach. I wanted to say ‘I love you’ but I didn’t know how he would respond, especially in front of Dom. So I just clenched his white shirt in my fists and smiled into his belly.
We drove long into the night, and somewhere near sunset, I fell asleep.
When I opened my eyes, I was alone in the giant SUV, and it was quite dark. I sat up and saw Leon, Vince and Dom standing with cigarettes, Letty sitting, cross-legged, barefoot, barely awake, on the hood of the Viper. I climbed out of the back seat and she waved me over, her skin made almost green by the fluorescent lights of the gas station. I leaned against the beautiful car and she grinned, reached out and tousled my hair.
“What’s going on?”
“Dunno,” she said, offering me her cigarette, and I shook my head. “Dom bein’ a fucker?” Again, I shook my head.
“Just being quiet.”
“If he’d be half as quiet around me as he is around everyone else, we wouldn’t have such a problem.” I laughed, and she couldn’t resist half a smile, shaking her head.
“You guys fighting?” I asked, and she raised her eyebrows.
“Constantly.”
“You look nice in a dress, Letty,” I smirked, and she faked a punch my way.
“Shut up.” She flicked her cigarette and lit a new one. “Dom’s gonna give us some money to get some proper evening wear as soon as we get to the hotel. He says we’re a disgrace.”
“That dress you have on right now was six hundred dollars,” I said, then laughed as she pulled it out away from her chest. There was a bout two inches of air between her skin and the fabric.
“Not everyone’s born with a heavenly rack like you, Isabel,” she stated wryly, and I cracked up and folded my arms over my chest self-consciously. The boys were talking in hushed tones, and Letty and yawned and stretched, slow and graceful as a cat, not taking her eyes off Dom. “Wanna ride the rest of the way with me? Vince is shitty company. You can drive the Viper. Rrrrowr.” I grinned at her, and nodded.
“Sure, unless Leon objects.”
“Sweet. I’ll probably fall asleep, but all you have to do is follow Dom anyway.”
So I was back behind the wheel of the Viper, and readily so. Even though
she was exhausted and sober, Letty was a riot. She blabbed to me about how
stupid Dom was.
“Does he think I don’t know? Does he think I’m retarded? I SAW him looking at her. That means he either fucked her or he’s planning on it. Asshole. Then I approach him about it and he’s all like, Who, me? Like it hurts his feelings I would even THINK he’s…Jesus. ASSHOLE! My God, why am I with him?”
“I don’t know,” I said softly, shaking my head.
“I have totally had it with his shit. Every time he does it, I forgive him and I’m like, this is the last time. And then he does it again. And I’m like, that’s it, this is the last time. And then he does it again. Jesus.”
“Has he admitted to doing it?”
“Shee-it. I’ve CAUGHT him doing it.”
“My ex went to the Florida Keys on Spring Break and got one of my best friends pregnant,” I said.
“Oh, Christ,” Letty sighed. “How long had you been together?”
“Three years.” She whistled long and low.
“You were with him for three years and you’re a virgin?”
“I told you about him, Letty. He’s the one who-“
“Oh, yeah. I remember. You sucked his dick once.” I burst out laughing.
“Yeah.”
“Did you suck Leon’s yet?”
“No.”
“Come on, Izzie,” she said, in a pleading, whiney voice. “Suck his dick. He NEEDS it. Poor baby.” I was laughing so hard I could scarcely breathe and I couldn’t see to drive. “His balls must be bluer than his eyes by now. Don’t be so mean.”
“I gave him a handjob,” I managed in my defense, gasping for breath. “And his eyes are green.” She smiled.
“You gave him a handjob, huh?”
“Yes.”
“And? He pay you for your trouble?”
“He tried, but I stopped him.”
“You WHAT?”
“I stopped him. I freaked,” I said, my face burning. She gave me this irritated look.
“So you wouldn’t let him make you come. What the fuck is wrong with you?”
“I DID, eventually,” I said. “Just not then and there.”
“When? And where?”
“Couple hours ago. In the Escalade.”
“In the Escalade ?” she shrieked. “With Dom driving? My GOD that’s wicked! Was that the first time you ever came?” I nodded shyly, and Letty pounced me, hugging me and nearly knocking us off the road.
“GIRL! We are partying. Pull over. Pull this bitch over right now.” I swerved and stopped alongside the curb as we came into the heart of Mexico City. She rolled down the window and climbed up so she was sitting on the frame. A group of men were standing, dressed beautifully and smoking, outside a salsa club, and she grinned.
“HEY!” she shouted at them. “Hey, listen! Oye! This girl just had her first orgasm.”
“Oh my fucking God,” I said, and grabbed the hem of Letty’s dress.
“Did you give it to her?” one of the men asked, grinning lasciviously and stepping forward. Letty was laughing so hard she was making no sound, and as I squealed the Viper out of there, she stuck her head out the window and shouted,
“HELL YES, I DID.”
Then, finally, she flopped down on the seat and shook her head, grinning over at me. “Damn. It’s about fucking time. God, don’t you just wanna roll down the window and scream it out to everyone? Isn’t it in-fucking-credible?”
“I think you handled the window thing,” I muttered, still the color of a beet. “But yes, it was.”
“Am I embarrassing you?”
“Yes, you are.”
Chapter 18
Dom gave us all a little speech once we were all dressed to kill. Lined us up in the hotel room and inspected all of us and I was beginning to think the autobody chain info Leon had given my father was complete and total bullshit. This was not Dom…He was jumpy and perfectionist, bitchy and nitpicky…
He was gorgeous. He wore a gorgeous black suit-- beautiful, sharp-creased pants, and a close-fitting white cotton shirt with a black satin tie and black jacket. His shoes were Italian leather, freshly oiled, shiny, and his hands were glinting with gold jewelry. Not chunky or tacky jewelry-classy and very expensive. And he wore a gold Rolex and held a black top hat that he was indecisive about. He kept putting it on and taking it off, holding it in his hands and tampering with the brim. Letty and I wore matching clingy, floor-length black dresses with spaghetti straps and silver embroidery around the hem. We wore these heels that had criss-crossed laces up our calves to our knees, and we’d had our hair done, twisted and curled and stuck up elaborately with silver and rhinestone pins. She was so much darker and more exotic-looking than I was, with her big black eyes and perfect body, yet I could feel Dom’s gaze on me, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw Leon shooting daggers at the back of Dom’s head.
“You can drink, but I don’t want any of you drunk. Vince, behave like an adult. Please. Letty, I swear to God…You bring up that shit from earlier…” She folded her arms over her chest and glared at him. “And Izzie…Leon…Be yourselves, I’m counting on you two for back up here.”
The hotel was insanely posh, and we were meeting for dinner in the lounge downstairs. Dom had left the hat on the bed, and I could feel the anxiousness radiating off of him in waves. His jaw was clenched and a muscle there flickered on and off as we stood in the elevator. He smelled wonderful, and he wore his tense sexuality like a second skin, like he’d been this stressed plenty of times, hundreds of times. It moved in the air around him, and I was tempted to drop to the floor and demand that he took out some of that tension on me. He walked with a leonine grace down the hall toward the lodge, that undeniable animal allure absolutely throbbing on him, and I locked my eyes on Leon’s. What the hell was going on? What had I begged myself into?
The men who rose to meet us were not men who would have had work done in a little garage in SCLA. They were not men who would be interested in a humble little business venture with an average Joe recovering from a car accident that wasn’t his fault. They were Italian. They were impeccably dressed, and they were older, with salt and pepper hair and ample bellies. The women with them were young. Letty’s age, in red silk and red lipstick. These were no gentlemen. These were mobsters.
The men shook hands, smiled, kissed our cheeks, asked us what we wanted to drink. I said white wine. Letty said Cuervo 1800. Toxic tequila. Dom didn’t look at her, but I know he was embarrassed. One of the Italians chuckled.
“My kind of girl,” he said. He was their obvious leader, just as Dom was obviously ours. “You must be Dominic Toretto. I’m Anthony Torlone. These on my left and right are Concetta and Marina, and beyond them my brothers Victorio and Paolo. At the very end, my cousin Lorenzo Petrucci.”
“I’m Toretto, yes,” Dom said. “And Arletta and Isabel, my friends Vincent Tenaglia and Leon Librizzi.”
“They’re not family?” Torlone asked, and Dom responded without hesitation.
“They ARE family. Vince and I were friends since diapers. Leon has lived with me in California for five years, and Arletta, or Letty, has lived with me for six.”
“And Isabel?” Petrucci cut in.
“Izzie is Leon’s girl,” Dom replied calmly. “I’ve got a cousin, Elario, who will be in with me, as well. He’ll be here tomorrow.”
“And you said your sister does your bookkeeping?” Torlone asked. I made him nervous. I’m not sure why, but he couldn’t keep his eyes off me, this jittery ‘are you wired?’ glance. Letty was doing shots, and Victorio Torlone joined her in a few before Torlone took the bottle and gave it back to the waitress, fixing his brother with a long, level glare. I looked at Letty and could tell she was trying hard not to laugh, so I smiled demurely at her across Dom’s chest and lifted my wine glass. I wondered if Dom had seated himself between the two of us on purpose, and decided that, if he had, it had been a good idea.
We ordered our food and Torlone suggested we dance while we waited for it, and it was then that I saw just how drunk Letty was. She took Dom’s arm as we made our way through the writhing mass of bodies on the large square of hardwood flooring. The music was slow and classical, a violin and a piano, and Leon surprised me. He danced relatively well, and I wondered if Dom had given him a crash course or something. Because Letty somehow found her sobriety and she and Dom danced with one another as if they’d been born to do so. When the slow song ended and something salsa began, Leon laughed and shook his head, pulling me off to the side to watch.
“I don’t do salsa,” he said. “I’m a little too white for salsa.” I cracked up.
“Me too.” I looked at Dom and Letty and my eyes became locked there, watching the way his body moved, the way his hands effortlessly found their mark every time, the way she responded to his subtle hints- a press of his fingertips, a drop of his shoulder, small step forward, a nudge with his knee and she would spin, step away, come closer, grasp his hand, open her legs. It was blatantly obvious that they danced, and danced often. The Torlones seemed impressed, and Vince, who had immediately latched onto some floozie, was grinning as well. The other people dancing pulled back away from them and formed a ring to watch. That inherent catlike grace was in him, always, and his movements were measured and practiced, yet in no way effeminate.
“He’s Cuban,” Leon said, having followed my line of vision. “His mother was half Cuban.”
“And all Cubans can dance?” I asked, smiling.
“Better than Italians,” he said. “Just look at those fat fucks. And Vince. Jesus.” He laughed.
“You’re a good dancer,” I said, taking his hand and squeezing it reassuringly. “You didn’t step on me once.” He flashed me a nervous smile and took me into his arms again as the music slowed and only a piano and a guitar could be heard, and the Italian men were dancing close with their bimbos so we followed suit. I saw that the man with the guitar was tall and toffee-colored and lovely, with long hair hanging in his face as he bent over his instrument, strumming gently, and the man at the piano was small, in a tuxedo. Their music was so beautiful, so completely rich and emotive, I rested my head on Leon’s chest and closed my eyes. The room was so warm, so stuffy and quiet, that I felt myself dozing within seconds. I melted into the front of Leon’s tuxedo and barely moved my feet as he held me, and I was as close to deeply asleep as I could get without being horizontal.
A loud CRACK! jarred me, along with a soft, “Oh shit,” from Leon, and I opened my eyes, following Leon’s gaze to where Dom stood, angry red welts rising on his cheek in the shape of an open hand, and Letty was shaking out one arm and staring defiantly up at him. Then she shook her head, looking like she would cry.
“I’m sorry. I fucked up. But I am SO sick of your shit, Dominic.” And she turned, unsteadily, shoving tipsily through the people, toward the door.
“Jesus Christ,” Leon barely breathed. “Jesus…” He looked to the Torlone crew for their reaction. The whole room had ceased to move, the musicians had stopped playing, and Torlone merely laughed and shook his head, speaking up over the din in the room.
“Nothing like a Puerto Rican on tequila, folks. Someone bring our poor boy a beer. Better make it Tres Equis.”
Dom's face broke into an instantly easy smile, and in that moment, I hated him. And I knew he had deserved that slap, whether he'd done anything just then or not. I headed after Letty, and Leon grabbed my arm, but I shook it free of him.
I found Letty in much the same position I'd found her in two weeks ago at the party; she sat against the wall in the hotel room, knees hugged to her chest, quiet but with tears streaming down her cheeks. Only when she saw me, and the genuine look of concern on my face, did she break down and all-out cry.
"Oh, man," I said, kneeling beside her and taking her in my arms. "It's all right," I said. "Come on, it's okay."
"He's gonna kill me. I fucked everything up."
"No, no, no," I whispered. "No. The bastards all laughed at you, Letty. No one's pissed."
"I'm pissed," she gulped, with a fresh flood of sobs. "I NEVER fucking cry liek this. I've had it with him, Izzie. I've had it."
"What happened?" I asked, releasing her as she stood and tottered to the bedside table for a cigarette.
"I'm slowdancing with him and the whole time he's messing up. And then he like puts his hand on the back of my head and presses my head to his chest, really soft, and I go to smile at him and he's grinning away at this skeezy blonde. I'm piss drunk. I know I am. And I snapped. But Jesus Christ on a cross. What is his PROBLEM?" It was dark in the room, and her hand was shaking, the glowing orange bead at the end of her cigarette dancing in the air.
"I don't know," I said.
"I know I'm not gorgeous. I know I'm not a fucking bombshell. But Christ. Break up with me then, you know? He says he loves me., but I think he really hates me. Resents me. I'm getting in the way of all his sportfucking." My heart ached to see self-assured, impenetrable Letty so devastated, so humbled and muted.
"Come on," I said. "You know you're gorgeous." She half-laughed, half-sobbed and shook her head.
"You're sweet. But you're a liar." She put her cigarette out and slipped out of her dress, yanking on a pair of boxers and a baggy tee shirt and climbed up on the bed, burying her face in her arms. "You can go back down, Izzie. I'm just gonna pass out anyway. You don't have to babysit me."
Her speech was really very slurred, and I wondered if it was safe for her to fall asleep. I remembered that she had been dancing salsa just half an hour ago, completely coordinated, and decided I'd just sit and keep an eye on her, just for fifteen minutes or so. Sat down on the edge of the other bed, the one I was sharing with Leon, and sighed. Dom seemed so level-headed and intelligent, so stoic and cool-minded and beautiful. Except for the fact that he was a sex fiend.
I remembered suddenly, the gentle heat of being draped across Leon's lap, that lovely explosion between my thighs, and I moaned and flopped on my stomach onto the bed and stared over at Letty, who had crashed the instant she'd stopped talking. Her sleepy peace was desirable and contagious, and I let my eyes drop closed. When I woke, it was very late. Two or three in the morning. Leon slept on the bed next to me in nothing but boxers, sprawled out and not touching me at all. I blinked and looked over at the other bed, and sighed when I saw Letty sleeping, curled in a ball, by herself. I was wide awake suddenly. Irritated.
Where the hell was Dominic?
I sat up slowly, aggravated, and I also wanted to talk to him about Letty...I thought he was perfect. I needed to hear him tell me, "I'm a cheating scumbag." I wanted him to say, "Yes, I fuck around on Letty. Yes, I'm an asshole. I'm no good for anyone."
At that point, I'd have been perfectly happy if he would have told me he was gay. I just wanted him to end this...Just wanted him to break the spell he had on me, because I sure as hell wasn't able to. Whenever he was in the room it was...Leon WHO? It wasn't right.
I walked through the huge, slumbering hotel, looking at a leisurely pace up and down the hallways, the sitting rooms, the entertainment area. I checked the pool and sauna. I felt guilty looking for him, like I had no business having anything to do with him.
I knew the lounge was closed, but it was the last place I could check. Stepped inside and looked around. The chairs were all upturned on the tables, the lights all out except the neon lights at the bar, and the stunning ebony grand piano glittered with the various colors tossed through the glass of the liquor bottles.
My fingers itched to play it, and my feet ached. I untied the torturous laces of the heels and left them in the doorway, padding across the room and sliding onto the bench, pulling up one knee and resting my chin on it, settling my fingers on the keys and sighing deeply. A movement at the bar caught my eye and I jumped, my head snapping up, anticipating staff reprimand for touching the instrument, but it was Dominic. He was hunched over the counter, head in his hands, and his jacket was draped over the stool next to him.
"Happy Birthday, Izzie," he said, in that low rumble, and he lifted his glass to his mouth, his back to me. I heard the ice clatter in the tumbler, wondered how many times he'd emptied it that night. His speech was clear.
"I totally forgot it was my birthday," I said softly.
"You're legal now. Shouldn't you be in bed with Leon? Celebrating?" My heart started to pound. I watched him run a huge hand over the back of his head.
"Leon's sleeping."
"And Letty?"
"Sleeping."
"Excellent." He turned and looked at me, the tie hanging loosely across his shoulders, the first three buttons of his shirt open, his bronze chest and the smattering of tight dark curls across it deliciously exposed. I dropped my eyes to the keys. "You play the piano too?" he asked.
"Too?"
"Well, what DON'T you do? You're learned in medicine. You dance. You come on into Leon's life and fix everything I fucked up." His voice was bitter and defensive. I'd upset him, without even trying, and I didn't know how to fix it.
"How do you know I dance?"
"I saw you watching me tonight. Saw the look on your face when you were dancing with Leon. You love to dance." I nodded slowly.
"Why do you do it to her, Dom?" He dragged those black eyes to meet mine and he looked so flooded with intense regret that I had to avert my gaze. I dropped my other foot to the floor and sighed as he turned back around, resting his elbows on the bar and hanging his head again. I kept expecting him to answer, but he was silent. Again, I had touched a nerve, wounded him, and I didn't know how to remedy it.
I started to play Moonlight Sonata, soft and slow, and the piano's resonation was incredible. Each chord boomed from its giant chest and filled the room, that lilting, haunting melody that I had known all my life. It wasn't particularly difficult, that piece, but the song itself was breathtaking, and it had always soothed me. Made me quiet inside. Somber. Sad. Pensive. And Dom was feeling this song, my song, for the first time, tasting the instant solemnity of it, for the first time, and I knew it, because he stood and approached me slowly, hands deep in his pockets, head hanging, crossing the room, and my heart ached from it's heavy pounding, but I didn't stop, and didn't watch him, just sensed his motion, just was...aware of him. My breathing was tight and slow and shallow. He came around behind me and stood there a moment, motionless. I stole a glance back at him and saw that his eyes were closed and he was swaying where he stood, exhausted adn more than a little inebriated. So I closed my eyes, as well, just playing and completely filled by the music of my ebony butterfly.
And suddenly I felt his fingers in my hair, drawing the pins out one by one, and reaching over my shoulder to set each one on the Steinway's top before me, loosing the long, soft, springy curls on my bare back. When they were all out, he rested one open hand on top of my head and dragged it down, dragged his fingers slowly through my curls like a comb. I began to tremble, all over, and he murmured something but I didn't catch it, just heard the distant rumble of his voice over the notes singing forth from the grand's great belly. He took a step forward, his front against my back, and swept all my hair aside. I could feel him coming closer, and my fingers tripped on the keys, but I kept playing. I froze, though, and my hands wouldn't move, when I felt the soft, scalding pressure of his mouth on my naked shoulder, and the silence was throbbing deafening. My body absolutely came alive under his touch. He put his hands on my upper arms and let them fall, my skin burning as his palms ran over it, his mouth still unmoving on my shoulder, and then, noiselessly, he dropped to his knees behind me and wrapped his arms around me, breathing hard, resting his forehead between my angelbones, and my heart was pounding out an insane rhythm, brutal and fast, and I felt a shiver go through me. It was surreal, that someone so purely and absolutely gorgeous would want anything to do with me, yet here he was...His hands clasped in my lap, his hot breath blasting against my back, and I was soaking wet and shaking like a leaf.
I wanted him to lift me up onto the piano, climb between my legs, wanted to feel the pleasure pain of him making his way into my body, to look up and see nothing but those beautiful caramello shoulders on either side of me, and watch his brow crease into those wonderful furrows of concentration, slide my hands down the sweatslick muscles of his back, take his ass in my hands and feel it flex beneath my fingertips as he moved inside me, hear him suck in his breath as he came.
"Isabel," he said, with this breathy, exaggerated Cuban accent. "I have to stop now or I won't be able to at all."
He sat back on his heels and my body quaked at the loss of him against me. The pulse of air in the giant dark room was hard and hot, and I sensed, rather than saw, him leave.
I swallowed on a dry throat, closing my eyes and drawing deep breaths, my head weightless, legs shaking, heart racing all aflutter.
My mind tried to convince my body with a convictionless mantra:
This cannot happen. This cannot happen. This cannot....happen.