Ricky’s face flooded pale white again, this time with fear instead of disgust. “Are you serious?” He pulled out his phone. “I wonder why I haven’t gotten a call yet.”
“He was leaving to go talk to Luca, so maybe they’re still figuring it
all out. Can you tell me what happened?” I asked.
Ricky shook his head. “I really can’t. I’m sorry.”
I shrugged. “I probably don’t want to know anyway. The less I know about all this stuff, the better.”
Ricky seemed deflated in the wake of getting the news. I couldn’t figure out what would be upsetting him so much, but clearly, there was a tangled web that my poor brother was standing right at the center of. I wanted to take him and flee the coop back to California. If only I could demand that he stop working for them, but with my mom as tied down as she was, it wasn’t like he was doing any worse. Besides, he was an adult who could do what he wanted, my concerns be damned.
“So when’s dinner?” Ricky asked.
“I don’t know. Alessandro said he’d call me, but I haven’t heard from him yet.” That seemed to make Ricky even more nervous. He unlocked his phone, made like he was going to call someone, and then put it back down again. “Is it that bad?” I asked.
“It’s pretty bad,” he replied.
I waved my hand through the air. “Yep, I’m certain, I don’t wanna know.”
“No, you don’t,” Ricky said.
The doorbell rang, and Ricky and I looked at one another, confused. I stood up to head for the door, then Ricky jumped up and moved in front of me. To my shock, he pulled aside his jacket and pulled a gun from his waistband.
“Oh my god, Ricky!” I screeched. “Why the hell do you have that?”
“Are you serious? You’re the one who always says this world is dangerous.” He made a lowering gesture with your hand. “Keep your voice down.”
“Do you really think it could be someone dangerous?” I whispered, tiptoeing after Ricky as he moved.
“I don’t know. Hearing that Marco made contact puts me on edge.” We slunk our way down the stairs and over to the door. Ricky peeked through the peephole and then suddenly cocked the gun. “There’s no one there.”
My heart began to race wildly. “Really?” I remembered that I had Alessandro’s card upstairs in my suitcase. “Should I call someone?” Ricky grabbed the doorknob and started to turn it, but I pulled him back. “What are you doing? If someone’s out there waiting to shoot you, you’re walking right into the trap.”
Ricky looked over his shoulder at me. “I got this.”
He continued to open the door, pulling it aside, leading with his gun. When the door was opened fully, he looked down and noticed a white box with a red ribbon on the doorstep. “Stand back.”
I took several large steps back, even though it wouldn’t make much difference if it was a bomb or something. Ricky knelt down and tipped open the little card on top, and then I watched his whole body relax. He released the cock on his gun and returned it to his waistband.
“It’s from Sandro.”
“God, I feel like I’m gonna throw up.” I walked over to the package and picked it up, carrying it into the dining room with Ricky behind me. “You see, this is the shit I’m talking about. Do you know what happens when someone rings my doorbell when I’m in California? I open the door, they say here’s your Chinese ma’am, and then I pay them, and they leave. People shouldn’t live like this.”
“Just open it,” Ricky said, sliding down into one of the dining room chairs and grabbing a napkin to wipe the sweat from his brow.
I lifted the lid, and there was another note sitting on top of the white tissue paper inside. In a beautiful script, it read, I’ll pick you up tomorrow at eight. I removed the note and peeled back the tissue paper, and there was a pair of black, designer heels with ankle straps, a pair of tight-fitting, skinny slacks, and a black, double-breasted suit jacket with brass buttons.
Ricky let out a whistle. “Wow, that looks nice.”
“It is,” I confirmed. “This is, like, the in-style outfit right now. He did his research. I’m impressed.”
“Tomorrow at eight, huh?” Ricky read the note. “Ha, you’ll be in bed by ten.”
“Again,” I repeated. “I am your sister.”
Ricky scrunched up his nose again. “Right. I keep forgetting.” He looked depressed again all of a sudden, and I laughed.
He perked back up immediately. “I’m happy for you.”