Body of Trust - Jeannine Colette Page 0,3
old man.”
He places a hand on my upper back and beams proudly. “That’s my girl. Jesse!” My father gets the bartender’s attention. “Did you know my Amelia is now a senior auditor at DeLuca & Associates?”
“Just a regular auditor, up from my junior position. There’s no senior in the title,” I clarify to Jesse. “Please don’t make a fuss,” I beg my father.
He waves his arm around the room. “Drinks for everyone!”
“Dad, it’s okay—”
“Can’t a man celebrate his oldest daughter’s success?” He pinches his fingers on both hands together and holds them up as he explains, “I didn’t go to college like you. I didn’t even graduate high school, so forgive me if I’m basking in the excitement of my daughter doing so well in life.” He calls over a few of my uncles—Vic, Joey, and Enzo. “Grab a glass. Except for you, Joey, you cheap bastard.” He laughs, and everyone joins in, including Uncle Joey, who grabs a glass anyway.
“To Amelia. Smarter than her old man. More beautiful than her mother—though no one here had better tell Joanne I said so.” More laughs ensue, and then my father gets serious. “This one here is going to do great things for the Sorrentino name. I couldn’t be prouder. Salute!”
“Salute!” The room erupts in cheers, and everyone drinks, including me.
My father tugs me further into his side, and I’m given kisses by my uncles.
When the fanfare has subsided, I slither back onto my stool.
“Not a fan of the attention?” Jesse asks.
“No,” I answer emphatically. “Big difference between me and my sister, Gia. She’s the performer. I’m the nerd.”
His gaze goes to the back of the room, where men are talking, and then comes back to me. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“Nerds are cool. Look at Dr. Deborah Birx during the coronavirus or Karen Uhlenbeck. She won the Abel for mathematics, which is like the Nobel Prize. Those women are badass.”
“You don’t give yourself enough credit.”
I smooth out my dress. “I much prefer to sit in the corner with my copper mug and make quiet conversation with a friend.”
His dimples appear. “I’m glad to oblige.”
My smile is bashful because I was actually talking about Sienna, but it’s nice to know he considers himself my friend. It’s sweet, as is the way he always seems to hear what I have to say even though his attention is given to the room.
Jesse knows who is where and what is needed at all times. I wish I had his ability to be in two conversations at once.
“So, if you don’t club with members, what do you do on a Friday night?” I ask.
“The usual.”
“That’s really vague.”
He shrugs as he pours a draft. “I do what you do. Drink with friends. Watch movies. Catch a UFC fight.”
“You’re a UFC fan?”
“You sound surprised.”
Something by the entrance of the room catches his attention. He’s talking, yet he doesn’t seem to be fully in our conversation.
“Are you a fighter?”
He looks back at me with a confused expression. My question is still lingering on my lips as I wonder if I asked the wrong thing.
His jaw tightens as he bows down with his eyes closed, almost annoyed with himself. “Do you want another drink?”
“I’m good.” I hold up my half-filled cup.
“Right.” He pats the bar top, seeming uncomfortable.
Uncle Frankie walks up to the bar, and Jesse moves quickly to tend to him. He leans in, and Jesse meets him halfway as my uncle whispers in his ear. Jesse nods, not saying a word. Seeming satisfied with Jesse’s agreement, Uncle Frankie stands up straight and nods with a point to Jesse, who turns around and grabs the phone beneath the bar. While he makes a call, I sit and watch. Uncle Frankie notices me staring and walks over.
“How you doin’, Amelia?” he asks, closing in on the space where his daughter was sitting a short time ago.
“Good. Just waiting for Mom and Gia.”
“Where’s Sienna?” he asks with his arms open as he surveys the room.
“She left.” My voice rises at the end with hesitation.
His mouth purses, like he’s displeased by the news. With a slight nod, he walks closer and leans an arm on the bar. The strong scent of his Acqua di Parma cologne wafts in the air. “Let me ask you a question. Is there anything going on with her and”—he thumbs toward Jesse—“the bartender?”
“Jesse?” I can feel my forehead wrinkling with the surprise of his question. “Not at all. I can tell you for a