“I don’t fucking care.” Tino shrugged. “I didn’t do it. Why the hell am I gonna be embarrassed about it? He did it. He’s the asshole. Just like your father’s the fucking asshole. It’s not your fault. It’s not my fault either. I’m gonna take my shirt off all the time just so everyone can see what a stronzo he is.” He nudged Brianna’s hand. “You wanna see it? My back. It’s sick how bad it is. It’ll totally make you feel better.”
“Okay.” She nodded, because she had heard about the night in the shower, and she couldn’t imagine how someone could get beaten to the point that they nearly bled to death. Then he pulled up his shirt, and she could only stare in awe at the map work of scabs and stitches that covered the full expanse of his back all the way below the waistband of his jeans. “Why aren’t you still in bed? Doesn’t it hurt?”
“It mostly just itches now. The don had plastic surgeons work on it, so it’s a lotta stitches,” he complained as he pulled his shirt fully over his head and tossed it onto the trampoline. Then he turned around to lie down so that his head was resting near the center of the trampoline and his feet were hanging off the side. “It hurts a little. Sometimes more than a little. It’s been a long day. The don took us shopping after he got done chewing out the priest and that Brambino bastard.”
Brianna turned around and stretched out next to him. “Did you buy your school uniforms?”
Tino opened his eyes to stare at her. “I have to wear a fucking uniform?”
“You do.” She giggled. “I’m sorry.”
Tino kept looking at her, studying Brianna long enough that her cheeks heated again when he asked, “Do you wear a uniform?”
“We all wear a uniform.” Carina hopped to her feet and started jumping, making Brianna and Tino bounce with her. “So stop looking at her like that.”
“What? I can’t like a cute girl in a Catholic school uniform?”
“No, you can’t.” Carina jumped by Tino’s head, nearly landing on him, which was probably really dangerous when he was recovering like he was. “Morettis make babies. They leave them everywhere.”
“You’re a Moretti too,” Tino reminded her.
“Boys are disgusting. I will never, ever, ever!” Carina jumped higher and higher. “Ever!” she screamed it like she wanted her father to hear it. “Get married! NEVER!”
Brianna’s cheeks were on fire again, but she still admitted, “I don’t think boys are disgusting.”
Tino arched an eyebrow at her. “Even boys with scars?”
“Especially boys with scars.” She smiled so wide her cheeks hurt. “Scars make them interesting.”
“Then I’ll probably be interesting as hell.” Tino laughed. “At least one girl won’t mind them.”
She laughed with him. “I won’t be the only girl.”
Chapter Seventeen
Reasons Neverland Sucks!
Romeo in jail
The basement
Nova barking and fetching for the don and Frankie
Catholic school
Blond Italiani
Being storage over the garage
Uniforms
Nova’s cooking
“You better fucking eat it,” Nova snapped, making it obvious he was reading over Tino’s shoulder. “And burn that list before someone sees it.”
Tino eyed the pasta Nova put in front of him. It looked fine, but it smelled funny. Rather than eat it, Tino underlined Nova’s cooking three times on his list, because the asshole could not cook.
At all.
It would stand to reason that Nova would be able to. There were directions on the boxes. There were books full of detailed explanations about how to make food edible, but Tino was quickly on his way to starving to death.
He knew better than to try it, but he was hungry. He should probably smoke first, but he was starting to feel a little worthless being stoned all the time.
So fuck it. He ate it.
Tino actually spit the macaroni out on the plate, gagging as the metallic taste stung the back of his mouth. “Casanova.” He groaned. “How did you ruin pasta and sauce outta a friggin’ jar?”
“Stop being a *.” Nova took a bite of his pasta. Then he went back to flipping through the law book resting on the arm of the couch. He turned ten pages in rapid succession before he said, “It tastes fine.”
“It’s not fine,” Tino assured him. “There’s nothing fine about it. What did you do to it?”
“Eat the fucking pasta.” Nova pointed at Tino’s plate with his fork. “I made it. You eat it.”
“I’m not eating it.” Tino shook his head. “You shouldn’t either. You’ll get sick if you eat this merda.”
Nova turned and looked at him and took a bite pointedly.
Tino gaped at his brother, unable to believe he could eat that shit. Basic survival instinct kicked in with a vengeance. He got up and half hopped, half ran to the stove without his crutches. He grabbed the pot, noticing there was still water in it, as if Nova hadn’t bothered to drain it. He dumped the whole thing into the sink, knowing there was something not right.
The entire bottom was black.
Most of the pasta was still stuck to it.
Tino brought the pot to his face and winced at the horrible smell of burned pasta. “Look at this!”
Nova stared at it when he got up, looking genuinely confused. “It tasted fine to me.”
“It doesn’t taste fine. It tastes like merda,” Tino said with a whine. “Why can’t you cook? What’s wrong with you?”