later. later. later

Rafael’s driver was named Marco. He wore a black suit, driving gloves that were wildly unnecessary in Los Angeles, and only spoke long enough to confirm the restaurant address. After that, he stayed quiet, which immediately made him the best human being employed by the Ricciardi family.The car started down the hill.I took off my sunglasses, then put them back on because without them the world was too bright.My phone buzzed.Tara: We’re at Gino’s. Private room in the back.A second message came in.Tara: Al is fine. Ate half a garlic knot. Wants pizza.Then a third.Arsen: We have seventeen questions and one nervous breakdown scheduled.I typed back.Me: Cancel both. Not in public.Arsen: Fascism.Me: Correct.Tara: He said their faces looked familiar, didn’t he?I stared at the screen.Damn them.I didn’t answer.Another message appeared.Tara: Ara.I locked my phone and dropped it into my bag.The pizza restaurant sat on a small street near West Hollywood, the kind of place that l

somewhere between fine and forgotten

Night made my house look like a place where normal people lived again.That was a lie, obviously.A house with two four-year-olds was never truly normal. It just stopped screaming long enough for the adults to start believing they were still in control.It was almost eleven when I stepped onto the back terrace carrying a thick blanket and a glass of warm water. Kendra had gone to bed half an hour earlier after making sure Gabby’s night-light was pink, not blue, because according to Gabby, blue was “too sad for princess.” Al was asleep with the whale shark covering half his face and one leg sticking out from under the blanket, as if a few hours ago he hadn’t nearly exposed a family secret in front of his biological father while smelling like vomit and pastry.The ocean stretched out in front of the house, black except for white lines of surf that appeared for a second and disappeared again. The San Francisco night air was still cold, even with the glass wall sheltering the left side of

panic response, no lipstick

“Exactly.” Tara turned to me immediately. “Which is why you cannot treat the way he looked at the kids earlier like ordinary curiosity.”I lifted the glass of warm water to my lips. It was almost cold now, but I drank anyway because my hands needed something to do that didn’t involve strangling my best friend.“He watched two little kids walk into a private villa while one of them smelled like vomit,” I said. “Of course he looked.”“Not like that.”“Oh, sorry. I forgot Tara Montoya has a minor degree in the male gaze now.”“I have a lot of experience.”“With three Alexanders.”“Two Alexanders. One Alexandre.”“A mistake is still a mistake, even with a French accent.”Arsen lifted his glass slightly. “I agree with Arabella on this one.”Tara shot him a sharp look, then turned back to me. “He watched Al for too long.”“Al was crying.”“He watched Gabby too.”“Gabby was wearing a glitter crown and interrogating him about an iPad. She’s hard not to watch.”“You know what I mean.”I did.T

All Chapters of Second Time, Mrs. Ricciardi: Chapter 21 - Chapter 23

later. later. later

somewhere between fine and forgotten

panic response, no lipstick