Читать книгу PROTECTED - Marcus Calvert - Страница 5

Much as I’d rather be using my fake ID at a titty bar, tonight was senior prom. As West Mattleson High’s star quarterback, I was expected to attend. At least it wasn’t raining. As I stepped out of the white limo, blue corsage in hand, I wondered why I asked Maria Frescanetti to this event. She was cute, useful to have around during chemistry finals, and kinda’ funny at times. But I’ve had better.

I should’ve been going with Daphne.

She was my homecoming queen, longest-running girlfriend (seven months), and built like a centerfold (minus the fake tits). I taught her every nasty sex act she knew. She would’ve been my eye candy tonight and then my “cowgirl” afterwards. But I just had to fuck Daphne’s two best friends (at the same time) and get caught mid-threesome. I heard she burned her prom dress and would be spending tonight at home with a bottle of vodka and a tub of ice cream.

Poor thing.

I had to remind myself that Maria Frescanetti was the prettiest female without a date. And, in spite of my rep, she was dumb enough to say “yes.” Word around the lockers was that she had a crush on me since junior high. Because Maria was my ringer for tonight, I figured I’d treat her like she mattered for a month or three. That didn’t mean I wouldn’t fuck around. But if she wanted to call herself my girlfriend, fine. I could do much worse than Maria. Too bad she wasn’t built like Daphne or I might’ve kept her around a bit longer.

As I checked my black tux, I looked up the steps toward the Frescanetti’s nice brick-and-wood house. Having retired last year, Mr. Frescanetti spent a lot of time doing little home improvement projects on the place. He was a man of many skills, according to Maria, who pretty much told me everything about her stepdad. It was plain to see that she adored him. It must’ve been nice to have parents.

I was halfway up the steps when Mrs. Frescanetti stepped out, digital camera in hand. Maria’s mom was in her late forties and still looked fine. Yeah, her tan was fake. She wore too much makeup and her perfume could melt paint. But she clearly worked out and kept her wrinkles in check. Plus, she overdressed for the occasion, sporting a nice blue mini-skirt and black high heels. It even looked like she had her shoulder-length black hair done - “80’s permed” no less - just to send her daughter off to prom.

Eh … I’d do her once, just to see what kind of fuck skills she had.

“Hi, Mrs. Frescanetti,” I grinned as she gave me a solid hug. Hmmm. Bigger boobs than I would’ve thought. Probably fake.

“Gil!” Mrs. Frescanetti exclaimed, the way older MILFS do. “You. Look. Great!”

“Thanks,” I replied with fake modesty as she broke the hug-grip. “You’re looking great yourself.”

Flattered, Mrs. Frescanetti flashed her pearly-whites as she raised the camera.

“Maria’s almost ready.”

“No worries, Mrs. Frescanetti,” I shrugged. “We’ve got plenty of time.”

“Let me get a few solo shots.”

“Okay,” I smiled as I stepped back. I made a mental note to pose for some prom pictures with Maria before we headed for the hotel, later tonight. While the Frescanettis knew about the huge after-prom party at the Wiltzer Hotel, they didn’t know about the cozy little room I reserved there. A light dinner, some champagne, and a carton of whipped cream would be waiting for us. I set it all up months ago, for Daphne. Now, it was going to the runner-up. Maria would leave here a girl and return home a woman.

Mrs. Frescanetti snapped away. After a bunch of shots, she stepped in close.

“Dante wants to have a quick word with you in the den,” she announced with a sly grin.

“Ah,” I grinned back, “the timeless ‘prom speech,’ Mrs. Frescanetti?”

She nodded. I figured as much.

While Mr. Frescanetti and I got along all right, he was a bit over-protective when it came to his family. Without any kids of his own, he treated Maria like his only child. If I was in his shoes, I’d throw out a prom speech too (especially if she was going out with a man-whore like me). The irony was that I’d treat Maria like a queen tonight but dump her before I headed off to Notre Dame in the fall. Unlike Mr. Frescanetti, I preferred my monogamous relationships in short bursts.

“Don’t worry,” I winked her way. “Maria’s going to have the time of her life.”

“I bet she will,” Mrs. Frescanetti replied with a hint of jealousy in her voice.

I closed the door to Mr. Frescanetti’s decked-out den, which was set up near the back of the house. He rose from behind his polished wooden desk to shake my hand. The barrel-chested Sicilian was in his late fifties. Casually dressed, he was hairy from the neck-down and bald-shaven on top. While he had a bit of a gut, the old man still had some pretty bulked-up arms. His college wrestling photos and awards filled up a small trophy case on the left side of the den. On the opposite side of the room were two overflowing bookcases. He read everything from Machiavelli to books on engine repair. A pair of comfy leather chairs faced his desk, from which guests could see his perfect backyard through a window behind his broad chair.

“So tonight’s the night, eh?” Mr. Frescanetti asked as he let go of my hand.

“Yeah,” I replied, suddenly nervous for some reason. “How’s it feel? Seeing her on prom night and all?”

Frescanetti shrugged as he gestured for me to sit down. I’ve learned that the best thing to do with a girlfriend’s dad was to get him talking and nod a lot. It made them like me more (at least until I broke their daughters’ hearts).

“It’s bittersweet,” he replied thoughtfully. “I mean, she’s grown into a wonderful young woman and I couldn’t be prouder to have had a hand in that. But …”

“… she’s almost off to college,” I finished.

“Yeah,” Frescanetti smiled fondly as he picked up an old framed photo of Maria from the top of his desk. She grinned through metal braces; a skinny thirteen-year-old posing in a pink sweater. I must’ve ignored her a thousand times in junior high. It was almost hard to believe that she filled out so well.

“So,” Frescanetti looked up at me as he set the photo down. “This is the part where I tell you to behave yourself around my little angel, right?”

I flashed him a devilish smile in reply and nodded.

“I think that’s the tradition.”

As we both chuckled, I noticed a bit of an edge in Mr. Frescanetti’s eyes.

“I trust you, Gil. You know why?”

I kept my smile on and innocently shrugged.

“Because I’m a good judge of character,” he said, leaning back into his chair. “I picked that up from two decades of union negotiations. If you didn’t know how to size up folks pretty quickly, you’d get eaten alive in contract talks.”

“I’d imagine.”

“Yeah,” Frescanetti nodded as he interlocked his fingers across his stomach. “I think tonight’s going to be pretty special. But that’s not why I wanted to have a word with you.”

Huh? I leaned forward a bit, as he looked up at the ceiling to search for the right words.

“I’m more concerned about Maria’s future.”

“I don’t follow, sir.”

“Well, she’s taken a real liking to you. I’d actually say that she’s in love with you.”

Awww shit!

“I was wondering how you felt about my stepdaughter?”

“She’s amazing,” I replied. Strangely enough, I meant it. “Maria’s beautiful, smart, honest, and down-to-Earth.”

“I agree,” Frescanetti replied, pleased by my choice of words. For a second, I thought everything was cool. Then he looked a bit disappointed. “But why are you going to dump her, son?”

I’m sure I had a “shocked idiot” look on my face for a second or two. I decided to roll with it and fake righteous indignation. The whole time, Frescanetti sized me up like we were playing poker.

“You think I’m going to dump Maria on our prom night?!” I asked, playing offended.

“No,” he replied with a sad shake of his head. “I think you’re going to dump my little girl in a couple of months, thus breaking her heart.”

“Look, Mr. Frescanetti, you’ve got me all wrong. I like your daughter. I really do -”

“But you go through women like boxes of cereal. It’s like they don’t mean anything to you.”

They didn’t. But there was no way I’d admit it aloud.

“I guess, considering your childhood, it makes sense that you have attachment issues.”

I was too shocked to speak, so I just sat back and said nothing. Frescanetti leaned forward, put his thick elbows on the desk, and cupped his huge hands in a thoughtful way.

“If my mom left my dad for a richer guy, thus driving my dad to drink himself to death, I’d be a little mad at the fairer sex, too. Still, you can’t go around playing with women’s hearts, Gil. That’s beneath a fella with your potential. Your old man would agree.”

He shouldn’t have gone there.

I was so young that I could barely remember him, lying still in his casket with too much makeup on his face. Whenever someone asked me about my dad, I never mentioned how much I hated him. He was a worthless drunk, who couldn’t keep his marriage afloat or stick around to raise his son. After he died, I was dumped on Aunt Denice, who treated me more as a burden than family. On my eighteenth birthday, I got a valet gig and moved into my own place, just to get away. By then, my respect for women was in the toilet. If it weren’t for the sex, they wouldn’t matter to me at all.

Again, he was right. But I’d never admit it.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” I lied with forced calm. “You’re a retired union negotiator, not a shrink.”

“Both positions are more similar than you’d think,” Frescanetti grinned as he leaned back into his chair. “And I didn’t mean to push any buttons, Gil. I’m just making a point. Maria’s not the enemy. You should give her a fair chance. That’s all I’m asking.”

“And if I don’t?”

“Then you don’t,” Frescanetti amicably replied. “I’m not going to kick your ass or anything. I’ll just be very disappointed in you.”

“How’s that going to stop me from dumping Maria – if I wanted to?”

His eyes narrowed a bit.

“It wouldn’t. But what goes around comes around, kid. Call it ‘karma.’ If you rack up too much of the bad stuff, it’ll catch up with you … in spades.”

I wanted to call Frescanetti all types of motherfucker. Instead, I forced myself to stay cool, just like in football.

“Is that all, Mr. Frescanetti?”

Frescanetti allowed me a slight grin with his nod.

“Have a good time, call me if you have any troubles, and uh … practice safe sex, willya?”

My shocked expression made him laugh.

“Oh, and please have her back by four, at the latest,” he chuckled. “She’s got a dentist’s appointment at 11:30. And I’d hate to have to reschedule it on account of … whatever.”

I felt like such a dumb prick at that moment, as I waited for my prom date’s father to stop laughing at me. Part of me wanted to call the whole damned thing off. He stood up and held out his hand. Not really wanting to, I stood up and shook his hand. Then I turned to leave. None of this made sense.

A question jumped into my head as my hand found the door knob.

“How do you know so much about me and my family? I never told Maria any of what you just told me. I never told anyone!”

“Do you believe in ghosts?” Frescanetti asked.

“No,” I replied. The old man didn’t reek of alcohol. Maybe he was nuts. Asking that kind of question’s a good sign of being mental.

“You shouldn’t think that way,” a thick male voice said from behind me. I started to turn around, only to have two huge hands grab me by my shoulders, drag me back to the chair and force me into it like I was a 2 year-old. I half-turned and saw nothing behind me!

“Gil Zakes,” Frescanetti grinned. “I’d like you to meet Giovanni Mancusso.”

Frescanetti muttered some kind of gibberish that sounded vaguely Italian.

An instant later, I could see Giovanni just fine. Actually, I could see through him just fine. He wore a gray double-breasted suit with a white shirt and matching carnation in the left lapel. He stood about 6’5”, maybe in the neighborhood of 270 pounds. He had the look of “old-school gangster” about him; the type I used to see in old mob movies on AMC. Still, his stubbled face was broad and friendly … in a scary sort of way. He reminded me of some of the offensive linemen on my team.

“Thanks,” the ghost said, as if reading my thoughts. “I used to play a little ball when I was your age.”

My jaw dropped. He was reading my thoughts! Frescanetti chuckled.

“Giovanni’s an honest-to-God ghost. Born: August 5, 1898. Died: March 26, 1933.”

“Pleased to meet ya’,” Giovanni grinned as he let go of me. I arched my back and jumped to my feet as Giovanni held out his hand. I dropped the corsage as I backed against a corner. The two bastards swapped grins. Giovanni lowered his hand.

“Giovanni’s a trusted ex-colleague of mine,” Frescanetti explained. “But we still do favors for each other. And when Maria started dating you, I asked him to learn what he could about you.”

“My ‘condition’ allows me to know everything that goes on in the minds of the living.”

“And that’s how I know so much about you,” Frescanetti added. “While Gio here assures me that my daughter’s in good hands tonight, he’s pretty sure that you’re gonna dump her before Labor Day. Please reconsider.”

“How are you doing this?!” I gasped.

Frescanetti patiently rose, pulled a laminated card from his wallet, and tossed it onto his desk. I leaned over to read it. It was his old union ID card, which read (across the top):

NECROMANCER’S UNION – LOCAL 412

“And for a second, I thought you were a mobster,” I blurted, unsure of what else to say.

Frescanetti and Giovanni shared robust laughter at my expense as I handed the card back.

“I’m just a ‘facilitator’ between parties, son. Local 412 is very real. So is what I said about karma.”

That last part was definitely a threat.

“You’re damned right it was, kid,” Giovanni smiled as he picked up the corsage and walked it over to me. “I mean, wouldn’t it be a shame if you were to have some kind of … ‘accident’ and lose your football scholarship?”

My mouth went dry as I took the corsage with shaking fingers.

“Don’t worry,” Giovanni grinned as he patted me on the back. “I’ll keep an eye on both of you tonight … er, up to the hotel room, of course.”

“You got that right, Gio,” Frescanetti said half-seriously, as he put the union card back into his wallet. “No future son-in-law of mine’s gonna be haunted during his prom night nookie.”