Page 82 of Niccolaio Andretti (The Five Syndicates)
I wonder if Asher taught Niccolaio that or Niccolaio taught Asher that. Or maybe these mafia men are just born with the inherent knowledge of how to sneak up on people and scare the living daylights out of them. Seriously… How do you sit down beside someone so quietly that they don’t hear?
Asher shrugs, smirking a little as he glances at Lucy on the dance floor with Aimee. “Are you having fun?”
“Yes.”
“Don’t lie. It’s unbecoming.”
I sigh. “Fine, but it’s not like I’m not having fun. I’m just… This is weird.”
“What is?”
“I mean, thank you for donating the tablets. That means the world to me. But… You hate me. Lucy hates me. Aimee hates me.”
He studies me before relenting, “I donated the tablets because I wanted to, not because of Nick or you. I did it for the kids.” His words remind me of an article I read on his philanthropy for underprivileged children, and I suppose it makes sense with his background. “And I don’t hate you,” he continues. “No one does.”
“I haven’t forgotten what you said to me at Carmen’s Cantina.”
I know your type. You’re not at Wilton for a degree. You’re there to find someone to marry. Some rich sucker you can leech off of for the rest of your parasitic life. Come near Lucy again, and I’ll blackball you so fast, no man in the city will dare touch you with a ten foot pole. You clearly know who I am. You know I’ll do it.
Yet, here I am, sitting in the same room as Lucy, at her wedding no less, and I haven’t been black balled. But that doesn’t lessen the lacerating sting of the words as I remember them. Mostly because he was right about everything except for the Wilton part. I am parasitic. I am looking for a rich sucker I can leech off of for the rest of my life. Well, for as long as I think Mina needs me to.
“It’s pretty cowardly to hold a grudge.”
“Are you calling me a coward?”
“Well, you’re not exactly acting brave.”
When he smiles, I realize he’s joking, and that surprises me more than it would if I learned he wasn’t joking.
After a minute of silence, Asher shrugs carelessly and mocks my earlier words, “I haven’t forgotten what you’ve done to Lucy.”
I frown, remembering how awful I was to her. “Are we enemies, Asher?”
“No.”
It’s stupid, but I ask, “Why not?”
“You’ve been horrendous to deal with, yeah. But part of what you’ve done was give her a safe place to stay when she was in danger. When it counted the most. I haven’t forgotten that, and I won’t ever forget that.”
I lean back. “But I’ve been so mean to her.”
“You haven’t since, and I don’t think you will again.” He looks me in the eye. “It seems like the only person who’s finding it difficult to forgive you is you.”
And with that, he’s gone.
He’s just as irritating as Lucy.
Shortly after Asher leaves, Aimee and Lucy join me, but this time I’m not surprised—I could hear their raucous laughter from across the room.
Aimee gives Lucy a dubious glance. “We like her now?”
Lucy elbows her in the stomach and turns to me. “Thank you for coming.”
“No problem,” I say, and I mean it. “I’m glad I came.”
And I am. I needed to hear from Asher, from anyone, that I’m forgiven for my past. Lately, as I’ve started to question whether or not my choices have been good ones, I’ve also abhorred my inability to reign in the ugliness of my emotions and how I’ve treated others.
I needed to hear that I’m not beyond redemption.
