Authors: Anne Mercier
"Hey," I say softly.
"Hey," he replies, making his way over to me, his scent immediately blanketing me. I inhale.
"There you are," I say, eyes closed.
"Mmm," he hums against my lips, giving me a soft kiss. "How was your nap?"
"Not long enough," I tell him.
He nods. "How’s your pain?"
"Pretty good. I just got some more medication which is why I’m so drowsy right now."
"Rest, Fee. The more you rest the better you’ll feel and the sooner you’ll be out of here," Cage reminds me.
I sigh and nod. "You know I’m only this agreeable because I know you’re right."
He chuckles. "Oh, trust me. I know."
I can’t help but smile, my eyes drifting closed.
He runs his nose along my cheek, up to my ear. "I love you, Fee. I’ll be here when you wake up."
"I love you too," I whisper, drifting into a peaceful sleep because for the first time in a long while, I feel hopeful.
A
WEEK LATER I’M SITTING
in Cage’s kitchen with Joan while she prepares dinner. She’s been taking care of me whenever Cage has to go to work or meetings, which isn’t very often and I end up pushing him out the door more often than not. He doesn’t have to babysit me. I’m fine. I may move around slowly but I’m fine.
"Tell me about Cage," I prompt.
Joan grins. "What do you want to know?"
"How did you two meet? How did he come to live with you?"
"Oh, he was about thirteen when I first found him. He tried to steal my purse one night." Joan laughs, a full-throated, melodic laugh that makes me smile. "I laugh because he was so skinny. He was all legs and elbows."
I lean forward, elbow on the table, chin resting in my hand. "I can’t believe that. I mean... look at him."
"I know, but it took a long while for him to bulk up like he did. That boy could eat. But I’m getting ahead of myself. When he tried to steal my purse, I wrapped the straps around my wrists so he couldn’t get it. Then he tried to run away and I grabbed the hood of his sweatshirt and held on. He cursed a blue streak and told me I was crazy," she laughs and I can’t help but laugh along with her.
"I’m trying to relate that version of Cage with the respectful one he is now."
Joan laughs again. "He grew up hard, as you know, and he was really very good at putting on a show when inside he was angry and hurting. So, after a little time, I managed to convince him to come home with me, that I wasn’t a pervert, and I just wanted to help him, he eyed me skeptically but came along. I gave him a lot of latitude, a lot because he needed it. Eventually we came to terms we could both agree on."
"Until he got into trouble and met my grandpa."
Joan straightens after putting chicken in the oven and nods. "Until he met your grandfather. There were so many things I wanted for Cage, and being a thug wasn’t one of them."
"He’s not a thug, Joan."
"Oh, not now he’s not. He was. How do you think you get started if you’re not blood? It isn’t by being a model citizen." She blows out a breath. "I’m sorry. I don’t mean to offend you or talk badly of your family."
"No, no, it’s okay. I don’t have anything to do with that side of the family—at least I didn’t until the threats started coming in." I take a sip of my tea.
"Cage told me about your family and about what’s going on now. I hope you don’t mind, but I asked him about you when I knew you were permanent in his life and I asked him to not leave out the ugly details. I recognized your name and I know who Lucy is."
I nod. "None of it’s pretty—my past, I mean. My family either, for that matter. Okay, that’s not true. Lucy’s mom and dad have carefully avoided anything to do with that lifestyle so Lucy, Joey, and I have been very lucky that way. But finish telling me about Cage before he gets back and finds a way to prevent this conversation from happening."
"I love how well you know him." Her smile is affectionate and knowing. She goes on to tell me how Cage got in tight with Grandpa Giovanni and because he was loyal and grandpa liked him, Cage received more protection than most. "Since that’s the road Cage chose, I’m grateful to your grandfather for that, at least."
"You know my grandpa doesn’t just
choose
people. He always has a reason." And now I was really curious as to what his reason was for choosing Cage, a kid from the streets. Whatever his reasoning, he chose well. Cage was reliable, discrete, professional, controlled, and hard when he needed to be—no pun intended.
"I gathered as much. I just never figured out the ‘why’," Joan says.
"You likely never will. Grandpa does what he does for his own reasons and, honestly, a lot of the time it makes no sense to anyone else. I blame it on Nana Russo’s mojo."
Joan laughs. "Nana Russo’s mojo?"
I nod. "Serious. Nana Russo—Carlotta Russo if we’re being technical, works some serious magic." I look to Joan, who’s looking at me as if I’ve lost my mind. "I see you’re skeptical."
"Just a bit." Sarcasm. I really, really like Joan.
"Let me give you an example." I lean forward further and Joan takes a seat across from me at the kitchen island in the middle of the room. I look around and Joan looks with me.
"What are you looking for?"
I look at her out of the corner of my eye, "Anything nana. She doesn’t like us talking about her mojo."
"Oo-kay," Joan mutters. Who can blame her? I sound nutters right now.
"Alright," I say when everything is calm and easy around us. "Have you heard the story of how Lucy and Jesse met when we were seventeen?"
She nods. "You mean that...?"
"No, no. Not that. But about a week after we arrived in L.A., grandpa and nana came to visit us. We told her about Lucy meeting Jesse and that’s when it happened." My heart’s beating frantically in my chest.
"What happened?"
I look around again. "Nana grabbed Lucy’s hand, closed her eyes, then trailed her fingertips up and down those lines you have on your palm—you know, lifeline and all that."
"Yes," Joan replies, absently tracing her own.
"Nana tells her she’s going to be seeing Jesse many times before it’ll be his time to make it her time."
"Confusing."
"Oh yes. Seriously. And we did see him a lot. We went to concerts, saw him on TV, interviews, magazines, on the Internet. All that stuff. Then Cage hooked us up with that video. I mean, he knew Lucy had a crush on Jesse. It wasn’t a secret."
"So, it could be that Cage and your nana were in cahoots."
"No. Nana’s mojo isn’t discussed by her with anyone other than family, and even though Cage is, most likely, considered family, she won’t discuss it unless you’re blood," I explain.
"Okay. I can understand that."
"So, we get to that set and Jesse recognizes her and he helps her go from acting to music, taking us all along for the ride. Without Jesse entering the picture, she never would have done it. I know that for a fact. She’d make excuses for why she couldn’t do what she wanted to do more than anything else. Her biggest excuse? Her mother."
"What about her?"
I blow out a breath and take another sip of my cooling tea. "She pushed Lucy into acting. I’m sure Cage told you this story. Anyway, Lucy wouldn’t stand up to her mother—ever—about anything. It was like, when it came to Mama Regina, Lucy’s spine fell out and slithered off, nowhere to be found. That is
not
an exaggeration."
"Hmm," Joan nods as she sips her own tea.
"So, we go to a club. Jesse and the band show up. Lucy and Jesse get hot and heavy on the dance floor—"
Joan perks up. "Oh! I saw that on TV. I watched it on YouTube. That was so sexy."
"Exactly. And let me tell you this: until Jesse, Lucy never even would grind up on a guy on the dance floor because she was afraid of this very thing. Then, the shit hit the fan. Their ‘dance’," I tell her using air quotes, "went viral. But before it even got started, Lucy called mama and stood up to her telling her she was done. No more acting. That she’d just finished her last film until further notice and that we were going to do music."
"How’d her mother take that?"
"About as well as you’d expect. But Lucy," I shake my head, "she’d found her confidence from just one day of being in Jesse’s presence and her backbone was solid and sturdy. She stood her ground. What happened next was a series of Jesse and Lucy events from his encouraging us to form our band to helping us find band members. He was making it
her
time and, essentially, our time."
"Hmm," Joan mutters, absent-mindedly tapping her teacup with her index finger, lost in thought. Yeah, nana’s mojo can seriously mess with your mind. I sip my tea, waiting her out.
Joan meets my gaze. "Do you think she’d work her mojo on me and help me find my ‘one’?"
I grin. "It’d take some convincing but seeing as you’re Cage’s mother and I’ll be vouching for you, I think she might make an exception to the blood rule."
Joan nods. "I’m anxious to meet her."
I nod in return. "It won’t be a quick visit. She’ll need to get to know you a bit—well, a feel for you really. You don’t have to tell her anything personal. Just be yourself and she’ll find whatever it is she needs to work her mojo."
"That sounds crazy."
"It does and I wouldn’t believe it, family or not, if I hadn’t seen it work first hand more than once."
Joan leans forward. "Let me get us some more tea and then you can tell me about other examples."
I let out a snicker. "Absolutely."
I
’M LYING IN BED READING
when Cage comes in. He pauses in the doorway and just stands there. I know I look like hell—my hair up in a messy bun, loose sweat pants that don’t dig into my abdomen, and an Avenged Sevenfold t-shirt that’s seen better days—but he’s seen me look worse. Much, much worse.
"What is it?" I ask.
He shakes his head. "I just like seeing you in our bed."
Our bed.
I smile, but inside that sends me into mini-panic mode. Whenever things get good like this for me, it always goes very, very wrong and very, very quickly. I’ve spent my whole life keeping myself closed off, with everyone else on the other side of an invisible, impenetrable wall. But Cage... he found a way in. He really
has
to be Batman. No one else would be able to find a way in undetected.
"There’s still an hour of daylight left. Would you go somewhere with me?" he asks.
"I look like hell."
"You look beautiful as you always do, but where we’re going no one’s going to care."
I give him a look that shows him just how much I don’t believe that. He chuckles and comes toward me with my tennis shoes. I sit up and he kneels at my feet before slipping the shoes on and tying the laces, knowing it hurts for me to bend that way.
Before he can straighten to stand I lean forward a bit, pressing a kiss to his lips, then holding him close. I’m so afraid of how much he could hurt me, but I’m also grateful for every second he’s in my life, so if it goes bad, at least I can hold on to this feeling right here. This one of contentment and love.
"O
H MY GOD,"
I whisper when the car pulls down the lane.