very recent. I click on the first search
result, which is from a newspaper in Brooklyn, New York City. The
article is fairly extensive and way longer than I’m comfortable
reading, but I catch the highlights. Carlo Mancuso, alleged Italian
mob boss to the Mancuso Crime Family, was arrested back in May for
the creation, sale, and distribution of meth around the five
boroughs. It takes me a few paragraphs before I realize why I
should give a shit about this guy.
“ Mancuso’s son, Michael
(19) was hospitalized for a gunshot wound. Mancuso’s daughter,
Alexandra (19) is said to be recovering from the events with family
out west,” I say, reading the article aloud. On a hunch, I do a web
search for Alexandra Mancuso. A few links pop up: Our Lady of the
Immaculate College Preparatory School; a Facebook page; three
different blogs that appear to be fan pages for criminal
organizations; and several news articles that relate to her
father’s arrest. I click on one of the blog links, and sure enough,
the page is filled with information about suspected mobsters, and
the Mancuso family takes center stage. With Carlo’s arrest being so
recent, it seems he’s become something of a sensation. Three posts
down, I find a few pictures of Mancuso’s daughter, Alexandra. She
looks to be of average height for a woman, her outfit doesn’t do
much to show off her figure, and her long, dark brown hair is very
well maintained. What catches my eye is the caption: ALEXANDRA,
PRINCESS TO THE MANCUSO CRIME FAMILY, OUT FOR LUNCH WITH HER AUNT
GLORIA.
Princess.
My mood suddenly dissolves
completely as I’m left with zero doubt that this Alexandra is
Duke’s Princess. And she’s beautiful in a classy way that no Lost
Girl ever will be. Her makeup is subtle, her clothes are clearly
expensive, and the way she carries herself in the photos shows she
was brought up with manners. No wonder Duke’s got a thing for
her—or spends time with her—whatever it is, she matters in some
way. Looks like the bastard biker’s taking a shot above his
station. Well, if he can try to raise his standards, so can I.
Taking a peek of the clock, I see that it’s nearly seven. I’m
supposed to meet Darren at eight. I would rather hide out than see
him, but the drama that would ensue from me standing him up isn’t
worth it. I close out the browser, turn off the computer, retreat
to my bedroom while doing my best to ignore the hushed whispers
coming from behind Jeremy’s closed door. I have to get out of this
house.
Chapter 5
I’m a disaster. Even after
my shower, I can still feel Duke all over me. Part of me feels
dirty as hell about that, and the other part of me doesn’t really
feel anything. My dyed blonde hair is teased less than I usually go
for when I’m going out. I also tried to keep the eye makeup to a
minimum, but it looked all wrong. I suppose, in a way, I look a bit
classier—more like fucking Princess—but it wasn’t me.
The girl in the mirror
with the smoothed-down hair and pale pink lip gloss looks so
generic that I doubt anyone would be able to pick her out of a
crowd. My green eyes don’t stand out, and my roots are that much
more obvious. Blotting my lips, I check my red lipstick—the one
part of my normal self I decided to keep .
Once I’m satisfied, I grab my purse and head out for The 101
Club.
When I open my bedroom
door, I’m met with Jeremy and the girl he’s been entertaining for
the evening. They’re in his doorway, and his shirtless torso towers
over her petite frame. She looks so much like the last girl he had
over, and it takes me a moment to realize she is the last girl he had over. My
brother isn’t much for repeat visitors, so this is a new
development. He must really like this one if he isn’t making her
sneak out his window.
“ Do your parents know
you’re here?” I ask her. Slowly, she turns her head in my
direction, but her eyes focus on the wall behind me. The pause is
enough for me to know the
result, which is from a newspaper in Brooklyn, New York City. The
article is fairly extensive and way longer than I’m comfortable
reading, but I catch the highlights. Carlo Mancuso, alleged Italian
mob boss to the Mancuso Crime Family, was arrested back in May for
the creation, sale, and distribution of meth around the five
boroughs. It takes me a few paragraphs before I realize why I
should give a shit about this guy.
“ Mancuso’s son, Michael
(19) was hospitalized for a gunshot wound. Mancuso’s daughter,
Alexandra (19) is said to be recovering from the events with family
out west,” I say, reading the article aloud. On a hunch, I do a web
search for Alexandra Mancuso. A few links pop up: Our Lady of the
Immaculate College Preparatory School; a Facebook page; three
different blogs that appear to be fan pages for criminal
organizations; and several news articles that relate to her
father’s arrest. I click on one of the blog links, and sure enough,
the page is filled with information about suspected mobsters, and
the Mancuso family takes center stage. With Carlo’s arrest being so
recent, it seems he’s become something of a sensation. Three posts
down, I find a few pictures of Mancuso’s daughter, Alexandra. She
looks to be of average height for a woman, her outfit doesn’t do
much to show off her figure, and her long, dark brown hair is very
well maintained. What catches my eye is the caption: ALEXANDRA,
PRINCESS TO THE MANCUSO CRIME FAMILY, OUT FOR LUNCH WITH HER AUNT
GLORIA.
Princess.
My mood suddenly dissolves
completely as I’m left with zero doubt that this Alexandra is
Duke’s Princess. And she’s beautiful in a classy way that no Lost
Girl ever will be. Her makeup is subtle, her clothes are clearly
expensive, and the way she carries herself in the photos shows she
was brought up with manners. No wonder Duke’s got a thing for
her—or spends time with her—whatever it is, she matters in some
way. Looks like the bastard biker’s taking a shot above his
station. Well, if he can try to raise his standards, so can I.
Taking a peek of the clock, I see that it’s nearly seven. I’m
supposed to meet Darren at eight. I would rather hide out than see
him, but the drama that would ensue from me standing him up isn’t
worth it. I close out the browser, turn off the computer, retreat
to my bedroom while doing my best to ignore the hushed whispers
coming from behind Jeremy’s closed door. I have to get out of this
house.
Chapter 5
I’m a disaster. Even after
my shower, I can still feel Duke all over me. Part of me feels
dirty as hell about that, and the other part of me doesn’t really
feel anything. My dyed blonde hair is teased less than I usually go
for when I’m going out. I also tried to keep the eye makeup to a
minimum, but it looked all wrong. I suppose, in a way, I look a bit
classier—more like fucking Princess—but it wasn’t me.
The girl in the mirror
with the smoothed-down hair and pale pink lip gloss looks so
generic that I doubt anyone would be able to pick her out of a
crowd. My green eyes don’t stand out, and my roots are that much
more obvious. Blotting my lips, I check my red lipstick—the one
part of my normal self I decided to keep .
Once I’m satisfied, I grab my purse and head out for The 101
Club.
When I open my bedroom
door, I’m met with Jeremy and the girl he’s been entertaining for
the evening. They’re in his doorway, and his shirtless torso towers
over her petite frame. She looks so much like the last girl he had
over, and it takes me a moment to realize she is the last girl he had over. My
brother isn’t much for repeat visitors, so this is a new
development. He must really like this one if he isn’t making her
sneak out his window.
“ Do your parents know
you’re here?” I ask her. Slowly, she turns her head in my
direction, but her eyes focus on the wall behind me. The pause is
enough for me to know the
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