Read Online Crash (Visions (Simon Pulse)) by Lisa McMann - Free Book Online
Authors: Lisa McMann
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“Your father got a call about ten minutes ago from Mario Angotti.”
The implications are so heavy, so unexpected, I can’t even speak. I sit down hard in a chair and put my face in my hands. “Who?”
She glares. “Mario Angotti. Son of Fortuno Angotti. Father of Sawyer Angotti, whose acquaintance I believe you’ve made.”
“Oh, no,” I whisper. “Oh, mother-fuh-lovin’ crap.” I can’t believe they called. I didn’t do anything. “No-o,” I moan as it all sinks in. I can’t look at my mother. “What did he say?”
“He said, ‘Anthony, keep your riffraff out of my restaurant or I’ll slap a restraining order on your whole family.’ Or something like that.”
“Wait. He said ‘riffraff’?”
“It might have been another word.”
“Oh.” I rub my sore elbow and shake my head, staring at the ancient carpet. “How’s Dad handling it?”
Mom gives me a rueful smile and reaches for another stack of napkins. “I think you can probably guess.”
I stand up and start pacing around the tables. “Crap,” I mutter. “What now?”
“Why on earth did you go there, Julia?”
I stop pacing and look at her. “I had to tell Sawyer something. He’s the one who knocked my pizza over earlier . . .” I don’t know what I’m saying anymore. All I know is that I should probably stop talking.
“He knocked your pizza over? On purpose?”
“No! Nothing like that. It was an accident.”
“What kind of hooligan would do that? We should be the ones slapping a restraining order on him ,” she says.
Oh, hey, there’s a way to ruin my life even more. “Please, please don’t do that.”
“We just might.”
“Well, that’s great.” I get up and grab my gloves. “I’m going to bed.”
I stomp into the kitchen just as Trey pulls a pizza out of the oven. “Is that the one I messed up on? They still want it, this late?”
“Yep,” he says. He cuts it, grabs a box and slides it in, then maneuvers it into the bag.
I’m so frustrated I want to punch the wall. “Okay, awesome,” I say. “I’ll be back in twenty minutes.” I reach for the bag.
“I got it,” he says. “Go upstairs.”
I bite my lip. He makes me want to cry. I know I should object, but I don’t. “You won’t believe what I did,” I say.
“Probably not.” He smiles and grabs his coat and keys,then the pizza, and he’s out the door. “Wait up, we’ll talk. It’ll be fine,” he calls as it closes.
“Thanks, Trey. I will,” I say, but he’s gone. All I can hear now is Dad slinging crap around upstairs. I head out of the restaurant as Trey’s taillights disappear, and start making my way upstairs to deal with Dad.
Seventeen
When I enter the apartment, Dad is fuming. At first, he just looks at me and shakes his head—it’s the Demarco way of exuding disappointment without a word, and it works. The irony here is that he’s standing in the middle of the dining room, next to where I think there might be a table and some chairs somewhere, but they’ve been loaded with piles and piles of his junk for the past nine years. Yet nobody ever calls him on that.
His silence is thick. Finally I speak up. “I’m sorry I went to Angotti’s. I just had to tell—”
“No!” His voice thunders, and he starts in. “You do not ‘just have to’ anything with the Angottis. Ever. Do you hear me? Do you want to ruin our business? You want the newspaper to find out that the Angottis haveput a restraining order on the Demarcos? What does that say to the community?”
“They haven’t done that—”
He starts pointing at me. “Not yet. Not yet. Better be never. You stay away from that boy. Do I need to find a new school for you? Is that it?”
My jaw drops. As much as I dislike my school, at least I have Trey and Rowan there. At least I can look at Sawyer once a day. “Dad, seriously! Are you really trying to ruin my life?”
He gives me a suspicious look. “What are you doing with him?”
“Nothing! I
The implications are so heavy, so unexpected, I can’t even speak. I sit down hard in a chair and put my face in my hands. “Who?”
She glares. “Mario Angotti. Son of Fortuno Angotti. Father of Sawyer Angotti, whose acquaintance I believe you’ve made.”
“Oh, no,” I whisper. “Oh, mother-fuh-lovin’ crap.” I can’t believe they called. I didn’t do anything. “No-o,” I moan as it all sinks in. I can’t look at my mother. “What did he say?”
“He said, ‘Anthony, keep your riffraff out of my restaurant or I’ll slap a restraining order on your whole family.’ Or something like that.”
“Wait. He said ‘riffraff’?”
“It might have been another word.”
“Oh.” I rub my sore elbow and shake my head, staring at the ancient carpet. “How’s Dad handling it?”
Mom gives me a rueful smile and reaches for another stack of napkins. “I think you can probably guess.”
I stand up and start pacing around the tables. “Crap,” I mutter. “What now?”
“Why on earth did you go there, Julia?”
I stop pacing and look at her. “I had to tell Sawyer something. He’s the one who knocked my pizza over earlier . . .” I don’t know what I’m saying anymore. All I know is that I should probably stop talking.
“He knocked your pizza over? On purpose?”
“No! Nothing like that. It was an accident.”
“What kind of hooligan would do that? We should be the ones slapping a restraining order on him ,” she says.
Oh, hey, there’s a way to ruin my life even more. “Please, please don’t do that.”
“We just might.”
“Well, that’s great.” I get up and grab my gloves. “I’m going to bed.”
I stomp into the kitchen just as Trey pulls a pizza out of the oven. “Is that the one I messed up on? They still want it, this late?”
“Yep,” he says. He cuts it, grabs a box and slides it in, then maneuvers it into the bag.
I’m so frustrated I want to punch the wall. “Okay, awesome,” I say. “I’ll be back in twenty minutes.” I reach for the bag.
“I got it,” he says. “Go upstairs.”
I bite my lip. He makes me want to cry. I know I should object, but I don’t. “You won’t believe what I did,” I say.
“Probably not.” He smiles and grabs his coat and keys,then the pizza, and he’s out the door. “Wait up, we’ll talk. It’ll be fine,” he calls as it closes.
“Thanks, Trey. I will,” I say, but he’s gone. All I can hear now is Dad slinging crap around upstairs. I head out of the restaurant as Trey’s taillights disappear, and start making my way upstairs to deal with Dad.
Seventeen
When I enter the apartment, Dad is fuming. At first, he just looks at me and shakes his head—it’s the Demarco way of exuding disappointment without a word, and it works. The irony here is that he’s standing in the middle of the dining room, next to where I think there might be a table and some chairs somewhere, but they’ve been loaded with piles and piles of his junk for the past nine years. Yet nobody ever calls him on that.
His silence is thick. Finally I speak up. “I’m sorry I went to Angotti’s. I just had to tell—”
“No!” His voice thunders, and he starts in. “You do not ‘just have to’ anything with the Angottis. Ever. Do you hear me? Do you want to ruin our business? You want the newspaper to find out that the Angottis haveput a restraining order on the Demarcos? What does that say to the community?”
“They haven’t done that—”
He starts pointing at me. “Not yet. Not yet. Better be never. You stay away from that boy. Do I need to find a new school for you? Is that it?”
My jaw drops. As much as I dislike my school, at least I have Trey and Rowan there. At least I can look at Sawyer once a day. “Dad, seriously! Are you really trying to ruin my life?”
He gives me a suspicious look. “What are you doing with him?”
“Nothing! I
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