Indebted to the Mafia King
Cut Out for This

Eleni

The next morning, I wake up on a wide, soft mattress and immediately reach for where I've been plugging my phone in, on my right. My hand swipes through empty air.

Right. Fuck. Dante came home last night and took his room back. Since I moved the bed frame out of my old bedroom to make my office, I couldn't even sleep there. I'm just somewhere in his massive house.

I scrub my eyes and sit up. My laptop shifts on the end of the bed, and I sigh. I stayed up late last night as usual, and now the red eye flight I have planned is going to suck. I climb out of bed, drop my laptop in my office, and head downstairs to make coffee. No point in changing out of the thin, oversized T-shirt I've been wearing to bed. I have nothing to hide from Dante, and he's the only one here.

The coffeemaker dings as I set foot on the first level. He must've woken up before me. I'll just grab a cup and go. There's nothing left to talk about. Just a few hours of packing, and then I'm on my way back to Mama. Hopefully, somewhere over the Atlantic, my chest will stop aching when I think that.

I turn into the kitchen and stop dead. That's not Dante at the coffeemaker, that's Tony. I cross my arms over my chest.

"Uh, hi?" I say.

He turns slowly. "Hey. I made enough coffee for at least a couple more cups."

I study his face for a hint of sarcasm. Ever since I told him I could handle the hot seat and put him back on the streets, he's been avoiding me like the plague. What is he doing now, adding milk to his coffee without a care in the world? "Thanks." I pour myself a mug and drink it black, like I've started to in the last few weeks. It still tastes completely awful, but I can suppress the grimace now, and nothing else wakes me up the same. "So, uh...what are you doing here?" Tony leans against the island. "Are you leaving now that Dante's back?"

I blink. I've never heard Tony go so long without a sarcastic comment. I've never spent this long alone with him, actually. Our conversations over the last two weeks have been brief, with me telling him what needs to happen and him saying something along the lines of, "Yes," or "Sure."

"Yeah," I say. "I've got a ticket to Greece on the 10pm out of JFK."

He nods. I look away, reminding myself I don't care what he thinks. I used my own money-well, the cash Dante paid for me that first night at the auction, but really, it's mine. I figure I'll go to Greece, reunite with Mama, and that'll give us the chance to make a new start on our own. It doesn't matter that those daydreams used to feature Dante alongside me. I don't need him, and I don't really need New York.

Plus, I can't keep living here, and there's nowhere else for me to go.

"Don't," Tony says.

I choke on a laugh, certain he must be joking. When he doesn't join in, I peer at him. Once again, no humor in his face. "You don't even like me." I swig my coffee, hoping I can get enough caffeine into my system that this makes any sense.

He shrugs. "I don't know if that matters."

Great. A confirmation he never liked me. That's what I needed this morning. I'm not why it hurts.

I suck down more black coffee and wonder if I shouldn't switch to those energy drinks.

No. I'm going to Greece with Mama. I don't have a syndicate to keep up with anymore.

When I don't answer, Tony sets his mug down and crosses his arms. "You're good for him. I didn't even realize how bad things had gotten."

I remind myself I don't care about Dante. "Bad how?"

A smile ghosts across Tony's face, and I barely resist the urge to knock it back off. He doesn't know anything about me.

"I mean...I knew Dante through college. He was the king of every party, the center of attention." Tony shakes his head. "Couldn't walk five fucking feet next to him without someone stopping us to say hey and invite him fucking somewhere." I stare into my mug. That doesn't sound anything like the Dante I met. But I can see snippets of it. In the quiet moments, when we were alone, I can picture him as someone people loved.

"Did you know he used to be the funny one?" Tony asks.

"Used to be?" I retort.

Tony scoffs. "He made people laugh 'til they cried."

He did that to me once. A little more of the ice around my heart chips away, and I scramble to put it back. I need to keep it together until the air hostess is bringing around the little bags of peanuts. Then, I can fall apart. Tony doesn't care for my timeline. "When his dad died, when he took over, he lost that. And since you've been around"-he shakes his head-"I don't get it, but I see it in him again."

I turn away from him. "Even if I believe you, Dante and I have both done...unforgivable things. Even if I could stay, there's nothing left for us."

"Bullshit." Tony intrudes back into my line of sight. "John was trying to steal the Saints out from under him. He'd been sniffing around for an opening ever since he got out of jail. If you hadn't killed him, I would have before long."

"That doesn't make John not family," I mutter. I killed Dante's uncle. That's the truth of it. I shot his uncle and killed him without a moment of hesitation and it felt good, which is the worst part about it. I hadn't felt a lick of remorse for taking his life. Not for a second.

Maybe that's what's been eating away at me lately.

"We're all family in this game." Tony shakes his head. "What you did...that's how people become capos. How they become bosses."

I stare up into his ice-blue eyes. They hold none of the warmth Dante's used to, but I can see the same certainty. Whatever else Tony thinks of me, he believes this.

"I don't care," I say with effort. "I have my own life to lead." I've just gotten it, and I'm not giving it up for the nonexistent hope I can forgive Dante someday. I don't want to.

But a little voice in the back of my head nags that I was good at this. That I enjoyed it.

"You're good at this," Tony says finally. "And I don't tell people that. But you've crushed any future Lombardi problems, knocked the Coppolas into line, whipped our sorry asses into shape." He pauses. "Even Dante admitted it was impressive." My chest squeezes. I don't care, don't care, don't care! These tears are... are from drinking my coffee too hot, nothing else. I swig more as if to prove it.

Tony's phone rings, and he checks the caller ID.

"Shit. Don't go anywhere, okay?"

I don't reply. He walks away, picking up the call as he does. There is nothing here for me. Not Dante, and not his Saints. I know that. I just don't know why I can't leave the kitchen, like I'm actually waiting for Tony to come back.

My phone vibrates in my hand, and I glance at it. An email from Professor Calhoun about my final. I laugh to myself. I haven't even thought about school since Luca kidnapped me. Finding out I failed my final would be the perfect icing on the cake. I open the email.