14. Gia

fourteen

Gia

"Dad." My palm frantically finds the dash while my other hand secures the door handle. "You need to let me drive."

He putters forward in his old red Ford. It's not his speed that is making my heart screech in my chest, but his lack of sense of space. We're on our way to Bella's for lunch and to grab the daily deposit. That part is dandy and sounds like a nice little Saturday. The part that's aging me faster than a banana in an oven is he's nearly clipped every car parked on the side of the road.

"There's nothing wrong with my driving." He slams on the old, squeaky, disc brakes. With only the lap belts holding us down, we both swing forward at the waist.

This is worse than Space Mountain Roller Coaster!

Cars stack up behind us, serial honking.

This is where it all ends! I'm clearly going to die!

"You're lucky you don't have GPS in this old thing, because instead of giving directions, it would be rattling off prayers!" I scream out as I frantically swipe my hand through my hair, pulling it behind my ears, resisting the urge to yank it all out.

"Ah, those GPSLMNOPs robots these days are overrated." He puts his blinker on to turn left but then proceeds to take a right on red.

"Dad!" I grab his wheel, yanking it hard to the right to dodge oncoming traffic. "You had the wrong blinker on!" He slams on the brake, halting us in the middle of the road. Again.

Beeeeep! A double-decker tour bus nearly sideswipes as it wails past, and icy sweat frosts my forehead.

"We are in the middle of the road." Tossing a look behind me, traffic is lined up down the next block, and mortification washes my face with a warm flush. "Move, Dad!" I hastily wave for him to pull forward.

"Hold on." He guns us out into traffic. Sweat pours down my brow, and my shoulders hug my ears as tension pulls them together. When he rounds the final corner, he finds a metered spot in front of the pizzeria, I let out the biggest sigh of relief.

A series of chuckles radiates from Dad's lips.

"How can you laugh?" I give him a stoney glare.

"I long since learned not to cry in times of stress."

"It wouldn't have been stressful if you'd let me drive in the first place."

"True." He tips his head toward me. "But then we'd have nothing to laugh about."

"It's not funny." I let out a huff as I tug on the door handle to let myself out. "Plus, now I need to ruin my diet, because the only thing that's going to help me is a giant cup of diabetes."

"You should try that new Coffee shop." He winks at me as he hops out of the truck onto the busy sidewalk.

My gaze skirts to the other side of the street where I see the Coffee Loft. It's the breath of fresh air I need. I tap my chin only one time before I give into the temptation. "I think I want to do that. Do you mind if I run over and grab a coffee and meet you back here for pizza? You can order, and I'll be right in."

"I don't have a problem with that." Dad wobbles forward to the pizzeria.

Dodging traffic, I dart out as soon as it's clear, and I make it across the street in a few seconds flat. As always, I slow my steps right as I pass through the front door, and deep roasted cinnamon wafts under my nose. It's impossible to not feel rejuvenated when I'm in this place. The lady working behind the counter smiles in full recognition and waves. "Welcome to the Coffee Loft. What can I grab you today?"

With so many options, it's impossible to choose. "What flavor pairs well with three hours of sleep and a near-death driving situation?"

"May I suggest the French Press?" Her lashes bat as she looks back at the man behind her who rolls his eyes at her. I suspect some serious flirtation and it puts a smile on my face.

"That sounds perfect. Lofty size, please."

While she gets busy scooping coffee into the French press, she starts small talk. "Is the sun still shining out there?"

"A little bit." I nod, adding, "Starting to get windy though, but considering it's fall, I'm happy."

"Right? We never have this much sunshine in November." She pours hot water in the French press, and sets it aside on the counter before returning to the tablet. "Is that everything, or do you need a spiced chai for North?" She grins slyly at me, winking.

"I ah, don't know. I suppose I can grab one, and he can heat it up later. I haven't talked to him yet today." My cheeks burn as I ramble. I hadn't expected people to assume we were together, but after recalling how we sat practically cuddling in the booth last night, I can understand why she thought that. "Was he here yet?"

"No." She shakes her head back and forth. "Normally, he stops in after his morning run on Saturdays, but no sign of him today. That's why I thought you were grabbing for both of you."

"Well." I open my purse, and dig for my debit card, excitement budding in my gut. I can't wait to be able to surprise him with his ‘coffee' order. "You better add a spiced chai to my order, please."

"You bet." She punches in the second order. "Spiced chai coming right up!"

I swipe, and quickly stow my card, and while she's working on North's drink, I scroll my phone. No text messages from him. He'd been texting me almost every morning since we cleaned the garage. But not today.

For a guy who clings to his routines, it seems odd he's so off schedule.

The barista slides a drink carrier with the two drinks across the bar. "I put stoppers in them, so they stay warm."

"Thank you." I take the carrier by the handle and head out, noting it's only been about ten minutes. Dad usually spends at least thirty minutes talking before he remembers he's actually there to eat, he likely hasn't even ordered yet.

I push open the heavy door, taking a big stride out, hoping to rush back across the street in record time, when I nearly run smack into someone. "Pardon me." I startle, trying to steady my drink carrier. Thanks to the stoppers every drop is spared. I smile and raise my gaze.

My stomach instantly knots, and I squeak out, "Rocco. Hi."

"Hey, lil sis." His face is stilled, not wavering into even the tiniest smile. It's been months, if not even a year or two since I've seen him, but he has his shaved head, which highlights his oversized nose. It's identical to dad's nose, but oddly while it makes Dad look endearing, it gives Rocco's face a disproportionate effect. Cloaked in a long trench coat that stops above his shiny black shoes, he's definitely dressed for business.

I just can't tell if it's legal business or not.

"H-how are you?"

"I'm fantastic." With precisely measured words, he doesn't break direct eye contact. "I actually just completed the final steps to run for Senate."

Senate? Boy, that really is where all the crooks go.

Biting my lips, I offer nothing. But running for Senate doesn't surprise me. He's always doing everything to gain more power and control.

"I didn't realize you were in town." He offers after the silence drags out. "It's been a while."

"It's been a looong time." I nod, feeling as if I'm shrinking in size right in the middle of the sidewalk.

"How have you been?" Pulling his hands out of his pockets, he extends his arms wide, and waves me forward for a hug.

It feels off.

Rocco and I never had a close relationship even before fame and money ruined him, but I don't have an excuse not to hug him. I shuffle the drink carrier into one hand and lean in sideways for the world's fastest hug. "I'm well. Just back for the weekend. Helping Dad clean out his house."

Angling his head toward me, he echoes, "Cleaning it out? Where's he going?"

"Nowhere. His clutter has gotten out of hand." I gesture with an open palm forward. "You know how he is with his collections."

"Right." His lips thin into a straight line.

"Well." I jerk my thumb over my shoulder toward the pizzeria, careful with my words not to accidentally invite him to lunch. "I need to go."

"Oh." He nods, planting a smirk on his face. "Sorry to bother you."

"It's no bother. Just have plans." I wave as politely as I can, my skin crawling with the creeps, and I can't rush across the street fast enough.

My mind is a whirlwind as I stare down at my coffees.

North, the man with the world's most routines is off routine.

And Rocco's running for the senate.

What next?