Defending Pacer - Hamilton T. J. - Страница 39
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I watch her walk off-camera, but have no idea what to do or say. There is a faint sound of cheering around me.
Still nothing.
What did I just hear? How the fuck did she pull this off?
My Uncle slaps me on the cheeks and I’m finally woken from my daze.
“Your girl! She is an angel that’s been delivered to us.” Uncle Carlo keeps raising his hands above his head, as if to thank the heavens.
I smile—no, I grin. Wide. Like an idiot. Looking down at the phone in my hands, I write Chelsea a message.
PACER: Bravo! I’m at Zio’s. Do you need someone to get you?
No answer.
She’d be busy right now … calm down!
CHELSEA: My cousin will be bringing me over. You will like her. She has balls.
I grin at the phone. I’m not surprised by anything Chelsea tells me anymore. If she says her cousin has balls, I’m sure she means it.
My phone rings with Ma’s number. Answering, all I hear is crying.
“Ma. What’s the matter? Is everything alright?”
“I’m just so happy Paciano! We have been blessed,” she cries in Italian.
“Not you too,” I say as I watch Zio pour a glass of vino, motioning the cross every few minutes.
“You had better be good to her, Pacer. Marry her before she runs.” I haven’t heard Mum this happy in a long time. She has had such a rough life. If it’s not a family member murdered, it’s one being put behind bars. This must bee something good to see on the news, for once.
“I’ve gotta go, Ma. I’ll call you later,” I reply in Italian.
I send one more message to Chelsea.
PACER: Bowie would say something about falling into arms and trembling like flowers right about now.
Send.
I impress myself sometimes. I hadn’t taken any notice of music by David Bowie before meeting Chelsea. I told my sister that Chelsea loves Bowie, and Lucia told me I had to understand his music if I wanted to impress her. So I happily pissed off everyone around me by listening to David Bowie. The best part is I actually like his strange songs. Plus she gave me extra head the day I sent her Bowie messages. I’ll learn every little thing there is to know about Bowie if I get more head.
CHELSEA: I don’t know where I’m going from here, but I promise it won’t be boring.
I smile at the quote. I have no idea whether that is a Bowie quote or not though. I still have a lot to learn about Bowie. Do I risk asking her?
PACER: Bowie?
CHELSEA: Yes. But not a song. Classic Bowie quote.
Thank fuck I don’t look totally stupid. Without even meaning to, I really want to impress her. She just does that to me. She has done from the moment I met her. I still don’t get this Bowie thing, though. I probably never will either. That’s the beauty of falling in love with someone.
Franco shoves a glass of what I can only imagine to be my Uncle’s top scotch into my hands and raises his hand into the air. “Saluti!”
I raise my glass and celebrate my freedom, Chelsea’s success and her ability to always blindside me.
“Saluti!”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
She walks through the front door with the sound of snapping cameras behind her.
“Fuck me, they followed us all this way!” She sounds pissed, and rightly so.
Franco and Zio pull the shutters down on the windows. Zio locks it just as someone tries to open the door.
“Fucking vultures,” Zio spits out in disgust. “Now. Let’s celebrate!”
I grab Chelsea with one arm and pull her into me. Kissing her hard, I know that I can’t let her go. No matter how much I’ve tried to avoid feelings for women, she has every little piece of me in her beautiful hands. Glancing behind her, I see her cousin. She wasn’t lying when she said she has balls. I seriously think she might have a decent set in her pants. Is she even a chick?
“Pacer, I want you to meet my cousin, Logan. Logan, Pacer,” she says with a proud smile.
I hold my hand out to shake Logan’s hand. The name doesn’t give anything away. She could be a boy or a girl.
She grips my hand tight as she talks. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”
It’s a firm handshake, but still feminine. I’m fucking confused. Stop staring at her, him, it.
“It’s nice to finally meet Chelsea’s family.” I pull out my best smile.
Who gives a fuck what she is? She’s Chelsea’s cousin and they seem really close—more like sisters.
“Right, let’s go through and have a drink while we wait for the shit storm to settle out there.” I wave them through to the restaurant.
Chelsea shakes her head. “No. I don’t think they’re going to give up tonight. The story is still breaking, so they will want details until it’s no longer the news of the moment.”
Spoken like a true professional.
“So what do you suppose we do?” I’m intrigued to hear her idea, since she is so full of them today.
“Call up all the big guys you have, and they can act as a barricade when we leave. Haven’t you watched the Kardashians?” Her giggle at the end of the sentence makes me smile. I want to wipe the table next to us clear and spread her body across it. I don’t care who’s watching either.
***
Three hours after I made the first phone call to get some guys down here, the word had spread within the family that we were having an impromptu party at Zio’s restaurant to celebrate the good fortune of our family. Every person who has ever associated with the Legano family is here drinking and dancing, my ma and Lucia included. And why not celebrate? This is a new chapter for us now that Reed is behind bars, and I’m free of all charges. Only someone like Chelsea would be able to convince the city that I was innocent and Reed was the real crook … and have the law do all the dirty work for once.
I hate to think what’s waiting for us out side when we leave. There will be every journalist in the city waiting to get a sound grab or photo opportunity to write about. But right now, I don’t give a fuck about anything other than my family. We are here to celebrate, and celebrate we are. This is really Chelsea’s night. Everyone in the family has the same sentiment and all shower her with praise and alcohol. Chelsea and even Logan fit in so well with the family. I wonder what Chelsea’s old man is thinking about her efforts today? There are so many unanswered questions that Chelsea still needs to answer. How did she manage this?
Just as I get close to her, I manage to give her a kiss before a Bowie song starts off with a heavy guitar riff. I laugh when I realise the family must have my playlist on. There’s going to be an hour of Bowie coming up. Fuck it! Chelsea and Logan squeal like a couple of girls and Lucia jumps out of her seat too. The three of them jump around singing the words to the song as loudly as possible. They sing about not knowing if they’re a boy or a girl because they’re a rebel, rebel.
Nodding and smiling, I get the connection. Looking at her cousin, I see a Bowie similarity. From what I’ve learnt about Bowie so far, it seems he was a pretty androgynous character in his day. Chelsea’s cousin doesn’t look as if she fits into one gender or the other. Which is actually kind of hot, in a weird way. I have respect for her being whoever she wants to be.
Taking control of the music before I kill the night with Bowie, I scroll through the iPod to search for good old Italian mood-killing song—the type all the oldies listen to.
When the song finally finishes and I play the Italian shit, I look up and catch Chelsea. Her smile is blazing across her face. She looks so impressed that Bowie came on. Little does she know that I didn’t mean for it to come on, and I sure as shit don’t want to hear any more of it tonight. I need Chelsea, and I need some answers.
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