My Tragic Mafia Life | ✔️

38

She wasn't surprised that Houston had locked the door, but it still made her skin feel rubbery. To compensate for the privacy and the thunderous thoughts screaming at her to leave, she pulled open the curtains. Sunlight bathed the room. Even with Isla present, Houston could still hurt her. He had hurt her, and Isla did nothing to stop it. If that were to happen, then at least someone would be able to see them from the corridor below. A precaution. It still didn't make her feel any better.

"Josephine?" Houston called, and her lips twitched.

She didn't want to respond, but had to. "Yes?"

"I was just wondering, what does the average blonde do when she's not hanging out with mobsters?" Josephine stilled. "I can't imagine that a cucumber parfait can make your day. Or maybe it does. I mean, all that hair dye must seep into your head or is it just full of air?"

Isla shook her head as if to say, here we go again. Josephine imagined a thousand ways to silence him and ended on none. It was too early in the morning to deal with him. And though sometimes she bickered back and fumed, she didn't know where the line began and ended with Houston. Hostility crept near the edge of laughter.

"I'm not dumb," She protested, then realized she shouldn't waste time arguing. If they couldn't see her genius, perfect. She didn't want them to. "And my hair's one-hundred percent natural, unlike Isla's."

Apparently, green hair didn't count because Houston mildly shrugged. "So that's it? Cucumber parfaits are the most you do in a day?"

"Sometimes I go shopping," Josephine said quietly. To what place the questions lead, she couldn't find where. Where was the gain in asking her these things? What was the point? To make her angry?

Houston sat on a desk as if he owned it, sprawling his legs all over giddy-like. Josephine wasn't the only one confused with the action as Isla raised a single, groomed brow. He was obviously playful, and not for a fair game.

"Remember when you ripped apart Valentina Castillo's dress?" Houston said calmly, and Josephine gritted her teeth. It wasn't the best story to share when trying to befriend someone. Houston swung his legs. "Oh, right. I mean Valentina Russo now after her mom married Camillo's dad."

Josephine tucked that strand of information away.

"You remember, right? Homecoming?"

Josephine forced a smile. "Some of it."

Isla looked as if she hadn't known, or maybe that she did but had just forgotten. Houston's smile roared blood in Josephine's ears. "Everyone kept talking about it months on end after the entire thing went down. I don't really know what she did—there were too many rumors going on, but I saw the video. Well, what was left of it before people started deleting everything."

That was one thing she could recall. She had forced her teammates to erase any evidence that linked them to the crime, no matter how hard they whined. Too many people saw and she wouldn't stand to take the blame as captain. If they would burn, she'd burn with them. How long ago it had seemed.

"But I mean, really?" Houston shook his head. "Poor girl, and that poor dress. And you all were laughing as she cried. The funny thing is you try to act all nice but I know how you really are and Valentina does too." It was true, and yet it was not. She was sure she had a heart inside of her. Somewhere. "And now you have to play nice with her too," Houston reminded sweetly. As if Camillo wasn't enough. "So," Houston said, turning. "Why did you rip apart her dress?"

The sad thing was, she didn't really remember. Well, she hadn't remembered until Valentina brought it up two weeks prior. Homework. She had ripped apart her dress for homework, and now she somehow needed to get Valentina on her side.