Indebted to the Mafia King
Been Real

Eleni

That night, I stride into Piacere half an hour before Gianna's shift. I've been avoiding her all day because I think she's the only one with a chance of talking me out of this.

Half an hour shouldn't be long enough, though, and I made sure one of Gianna's favorite customers was here tonight, to keep her from delaying her shift to talk to me. It's funny coming back here, though, especially alone.

The first time I walked through these doors, I had no idea what they were going to mean to me. I had to beg my way past the bouncer instead of nodding and greeting him by name. I had to look around like a lost duckling instead of marching to the back, where I know the strippers' dressing room is. I didn't even know what scotch tasted like.

Now, I don't think I'll ever drink scotch again.

I push into the dressing room. Two of the other dancers, Sabrina and Crystal, sit at the mirrors already in costume.

"Hey guys," I say.

"Hi, Eleni," they chorus.

Crystal turns to face me and jiggles her chest. "What do you think of the new top?"

I study it. She tends to lean into the literal interpretation of her name, coating herself in what look like real jewels, and the tiny bra she has on tonight is no exception. Glittering strings of red faux-stones drip from the bottom and catch the light when she moves.

"Cute," I say. "With the black dress?"

She leaps out of her seat. "Ugh, you're a genius! I was going to wear the white."

As Crystal races for the racks of costumes, I turn to Sabrina. "Seen Gianna?"

She jerks a thumb at the warm-up room over her shoulder. "Be warned, she's got the music on."

I grimace and head over. Gianna always warms up with music blasting so loud Dante-they had to soundproof the room a few years back.

I open the door, and a guitar riff blares out at me. I lean back like the wall of sound is a physical impediment and try to yell her name over the top. She's at the top of the practice pole right now, holding on by only her legs, so it takes a few shouts before she spirals gracefully down and shuts off the speakers. The silence is almost as startling, after all that noise.

She bounces over to me with a grin, not yet in costume. "What's up?"

"Everything." I sit on the floor with a groan.

"Work stuff?" She drops her voice and joins me immediately.

I shake my head. I knew I shouldn't have come down here in the suit. I only have a couple hours before the flight leaves, and I want Mama to see me looking like an adult. Like I took care of myself without her.

"Try stuff you're not going to like." I lean my head back against the wall so I don't have to look at her.

Gianna goes silent for a long, dangerous moment. "Oh my god, you're letting my idiot cousin chase you away."

"No!" I grimace. "Not really. There's just...nothing here anymore."

"Oh, great." She rolls her eyes. "Good to know where I rank."

"You know I don't mean it like that." I grab her hand. "I'd be a wreck without you."

She leans against my shoulder. "You're a mess with me. Why do you want to go to Greece so bad?"

"I didn't say I was going to Greece," I mumble.

Gianna lets another silence refute my disbelief in her. I sigh.

"I miss Mama." That, too, makes something deep inside me hurt. "And...I killed Luca. I got my revenge."

"You don't really expect me to believe you just stayed here for revenge," she replies.

I stare at the opposite wall, where the two of us are reflected back in a long mirror. Gianna keeps saying we look like sisters, but she's only right if we're starring in a comedy. We have almost the same coloring, but she's long and thin everywhere I'm short and with the kind of curves the other dancers cat-call me about often, saying I'd make a killing out on the floor. We look like a mismatched set. But I can't deny how she's kept me afloat these past couple weeks. "Maybe I don't." I shake my head. "I don't know. Last night, I was dead set. I mean, you saw him. He just screamed at me in front of everyone." I cling to the ice around my heart. "But then Tony cornered me this morning and told me I was good at running the syndicate "

"-which you are," Gianna interrupts.

"—which we are," I correct. "But he's never said that many sentences to me before. And then...I guess there's this." I pull out my phone and show her the email from Professor Calhoun.

Gianna reads for a few seconds, then squeals and throws her arms around me. "Oh my god! My best friend's a freaking genius!"

I hug her back, my heart beating out of time. I've never really had a best friend before. My best friend in school always liked someone else better.

When she finally pulls back, she meets my eyes. "Okay, honest answers only: if Dante wasn't such a shithead, would you leave?"

I dodge her gaze. "I don't have anywhere to stay-"

"Honest. Answers." She grabs my face. "Would you stay?"

I stare into her eyes. Tandon is an incredible opportunity. I know that. And I knew she'd freak if I showed her the email. But as I look at her, see the family resemblance between her and Dante, another unavoidable fact crashes forward. Dante broke my heart. He killed my brother, he hid that from me, and when he told me, it destroyed everything we had. Tears pile up in my eyes and I struggle to blink them back.

"Oh, honey." Gianna hugs me again, tightly. "Just talk to him. I know he's a shithead, but I don't want you to lose out on things just because he's a shithead. See if there's a way you can stay here, even if you can't forgive him." She squeezes me hard enough to hurt for just a second. "My studio apartment is your studio apartment, okay?"

All my ice, all my numbness is crumbling away. I haven't even told Mama I'm coming yet. I figured I'd text her from the plane, but suddenly, waiting feels like keeping one foot in New York. Like I wanted Gianna to talk me out of this. "T-minus five, G," Crystal calls.

"I gotta go." Gianna pecks me on both cheeks. "Just think about what I said."

She races off, and I wander back out onto the main floor. At the bar, I think about ordering a rosé, then get a gin martini. I don't think I like these either, but they taste nothing like scotch. As the lights dim, and Crystal takes the stage, I sip the freezing drink.

Just talk to him. I can do that. At the very least, then I'll be able to get on the plane with no regrets.