Antonia chuckled as she made her way to her locker. She quickly donned her costume, gritting her teeth as she slipped her feet into the high-heeled black satin pumps. After her walk this afternoon, she would need to soak her feet for at least an hour tonight. The sexy cat costume she was required to wear as a waitress was almost as uncomfortable as her shoes, but she pulled it on, ignoring her image in the mirror. Her image was the part her ultra conservative brothers would object to. The costume showed more than she was generally comfortable with, but the tips were great and business was booming. Thankfully, the men who frequented the club were all upper class and would never stoop to mauling.
The evening was as hard as anticipated, but the tips were good. Antonia slipped her feet into the foot massager, not bothering to put in some scented oils. Tonight, she just needed the comfort.
Leaning her head back against the sofa, she let the tears flow down her cheeks as the memories of the afternoon flooded her mind.
Pushing the gorgeous man out of her consciousness for fear that he was beyond dangerous, she focused instead on Sal. What was she going to do about her brother? She hated hurting him. And the others would be just as upset when they found out. But they probably already knew. There were five messages on her answering machine. She couldn’t listen to any of them. She didn’t have the strength. She knew what they were. They were all messages from each of her brothers trying to find out what she was up to.
Maybe she should just give it up and use the money from her grandparents, she thought. She could avoid all the foot pain, all the irritation from her manager having a temper tantrum and she’d never have to put on that irritating costume again.
But she’d never see the numbers in her portfolio rise. She’d never experience that feeling of accomplishment, knowing she’d done something on her own, without her brothers’ help. She loved that feeling. And until a few years ago, she’d never felt it.
Why couldn’t they understand that she had a different path to follow? She didn’t want to get married and have children. She loved living on her own, waking up when she wanted, eating when she wanted, wearing what she wanted. Good grief, living with Sal, she’d never be able to wear jeans again! And her cowboy boots would most likely be burned.
Instead of her motorcycle, she’d be given an appropriate car to drive, probably a Mercedes or a BMW. As nice as those vehicles are, they couldn’t compare to the feeling of the wind in her face, the smells of the city hitting her head on. And the feeling of exhilaration when she set out down a street, not knowing what might happen.
“No,” she said to her empty apartment. “I’m not giving up. He’ll have to catch me before I’ll give up. That time will come soon enough.”
With that, she stood up and walked into her bedroom, wet feet and all.
She fell asleep that night, dreaming about a man who towered over her, with dark eyes and dark, blond hair. And a smile that turned her insides to jelly.
Chapter 3
Sunday morning dawned bright and sunny. Antonia, having slept only four hours last night, glared at the bright blue sky. She didn’t feel up to a family gathering today. But it was Sunday. And every Sunday, the whole family gathers at the main house, now Sal’s, and drives to church together. Since no one knew that Antonia had a motorcycle, each Sunday, her brothers took turns picking her up and driving her to the house. Today it was Michael’s turn.
Looking at the clock as she peered out from the covers, she shook her head in frustration. “Why am I always rushing to family gatherings?” she asked herself and threw the covers back, running to the bathroom to shower and change.
Fifteen minutes later, she was dressed in a sunny yellow dress with a soft, buttercup-yellow cardigan. She pulled her black, curly hair into a tight chignon, forcing the stray curls to calm down, then pinned it with a matching yellow clip. Antonia quickly put on some mascara and a dab of lipstick. Then she hurried down the street to the bus stop that would take her to the apartment building where all her brothers believed she lived.
She stepped off the bus and had only a moment before Michael’s car pulled up along the curb next to her.
“Antonia, you don’t have to wait out here. I can pick you up at your building if you’d just tell me where it is,” Michael called out the open window.
Michael was the daredevil of the family. He liked mountain climbing, sky diving, hang gliding – anything that would give him a thrill. So it was odd that he had chosen to go into computers, a very non-dangerous profession. But he was a genius when it came to programming. Sal had made him head of IT, computer technology, the section of ATI that developed software programs for various clients, commercial and government. Since taking over, Michael had grown the business to twice its original size. His love of taking risks had followed him and he’d combined his incredible programming prowess with his risk taking nature and it had paid off enormously.
Antonia smiled at her brother, wondering how much he knew about Sal’s recent discoveries. Probably everything, she guessed. “I don’t mind. It gets my blood going,” she joked, ignoring his reference to her mystery apartment. “You know how hard mornings are for me,” she said. Antonia got into the passenger seat of his blue Mercedes, smiling as cheerfully as possible to her brother. But her usual spark wasn’t there, and Michael noticed immediately.
“What’s wrong?” Michael asked as soon as she closed the door.
“Nothing. Why do you ask?” she said, pulling the yellow sweater over her arms.
“You look tired. Did you sleep well last night?”
Not wanting to reveal that anything was amiss between her and Sal unless he’d already told them, Antonia simply nodded her head in the affirmative. “Why?”
Michael wasn’t the most diplomatic man on earth. “Because you look awful. You have dark circles under your eyes and you’re wearing that dress.” He said, then concentrated on merging into the traffic that would take them to Sal’s house.
“What’s wrong with this dress?” Antonia asked, looking down at it. It wasn’t her style exactly, but none of the clothes she wore around her brothers were. “It makes you look like you’re about to throw up,” he said, none too gently.
Antonia couldn’t help it. She burst out laughing. Only a brother would be that honest, she told herself. Goodness, she loved them all. Why did they have to be so smothering? “But you gave me this dress for my birthday last year,” she said.