Then I sold a car to a man who owned a huge office supply business who recognized my skills and he hired me away. I was later poached by my current boss who sold hospital supplies.

Since then, I’d had headhunters come to me frequently to try to lure me away.

I’d stayed for stupid reasons, holding on to a life that didn’t want me.

But I also stayed for good reasons. I liked my job, made better than good money, had great clients, a boss who wanted in my pants but, even so, respected me, and nearly all my co-workers were friends.

Two months ago a pharmaceutical company in Indianapolis approached and made me an offer I couldn’t refuse. Even though I had no pharmaceutical sales experience, I had hospital sales experience so I knew the drill and a number of the players. I’d be heading up my own team and my base salary would be nearly double my current salary. The area my team and I were going to cover was vast, which meant travel—an idea I liked.

The escape hatch opened, I decided to slide through.

But I was going to miss my boss, my clients, my co-workers, and especially Asheeka.

I prepared my hair in the brush for another blast of heat, aimed my eyes on Asheeka in the mirror, and told her, “You do that, old lady Zambino will come outta her house with her bowling ball. She might be eighty-two, but she’s got mad skills with that ball. So I’m not sure it’ll go too great for your brothers and their brothers.”

After delivering that, I blasted my hair with heat.

When I was done and moving on to new territory, Asheeka said, “I’m worried about you.”

She said this, I knew, because, while she was taping the clean bandage to me, I told her about what Benny was up to. Since then, she’d been biding her time, likely looking for when she’d have my undivided attention. As that was not happening and she actually did have to go to work eventually, she was winging it.

I turned my eyes from my hair to her and assured her, “I’m gonna be okay.”

“Boy like that can be persuasive,” she replied.

I knew that and was scared shitless of it.

“I’ll be okay,” I repeated.

“Honey.” She leaned toward me, putting her elbows on her knees, but her eyes didn’t leave mine in the mirror. “My next question should come with wine and relaxing music after we’ve had facials and our hair done, but I gotta throw it out there. And that question would be, why wouldn’t you want him to persuade you?”

I pressed my lips together and blasted the curl with heat.

When I switched off the dryer, Asheeka kept at me. “Avoidance? From Frankie Concetti? The girl who lets it all hang out?”

“He’s my dead boyfriend’s brother,” I said for the millionth time in less than two days. Though, this time, it was telling her something she knew already.

She nodded. “I see why you wouldn’t wanna go there. I totally see that. But I saw that boy down there, and when I say that, I’m not only talkin’ about the fact that he looks good enough to eat. It’s that he was sweet but firm when he told me I had to look out for you. Not fall for any of your shit when you tried to convince me you could do somethin’ on your own that I didn’t think it smart that you be doin’. And that I needed to get that pill down you ’cause you’re prideful and stubborn and tryin’ to hide the pain.” She paused, didn’t release my eyes in the mirror, and finished, “He cares, Frankie. A lot.”

“That’s not the point,” I told her.

“What is the point?” she asked.

“The point is, it’s just not right,” I explained.

“That’s not the point ’cause that’s bull-hockey.”

I fiddled with my curl and blasted it with more heat because I didn’t want to be talking about this again.

When I was done, Asheeka got right back in there. “You’re holdin’ a grudge.”

I looked back at her in the mirror. “Uh…yeah.”

She shook her head. “Only God can judge him and his family for the way they treated you. Here, on earth, the right thing to do is forgive. Harder to forget and that’ll mess with you, honey. That’s your cross to bear and that’s the whole thing about forgiveness. They gave you that cross and it’s you who has to bear it at the same time findin’ a way to forgive. That’s the reason forgiveness is divine. ’Cause someone wrongs us, we live with that wrong right alongside them, but it’s us who has to find the strength to let them off the hook. If they work for it, ask for it, only you have the power to offer it to them so their soul can be less heavy. And the right thing to do is use that power.”

“I am. I’ve already decided that. That’s why I’m not taking you up on the offer to rally your brothers. I’m gonna let them heal the breach,” I shared before I ended it. “Then I’m gone.”

She stared at me in the mirror.

I went back to my hair.

My arms were tired, I had a nagging ache that prolonged standing and moving was beating through the medication, and I knew I should give up on my hair.

But I didn’t.

Asheeka said no more. Just when I got down to sliding my fingers coated with elixir through my hair and putting another coat of mascara on, she walked into the bedroom and came back with a fresh nightgown.

I pulled it on over my undies and saw it was really cute. The one I’d chosen last night was kind of a caftan—flowy and comfortable, but full coverage.

This one had a high-low hem, the front of which hit me several inches below the knees, the back dip went nearly to my ankles. The neckline plunged to an empire waist, with gathering at the bodice and waistline that drew attention to the cleavage. And last, it was a bright coral color that looked great with my hair.

You could see the turquoise lace of my bra at the neckline but…whatever. It wouldn’t be the first time I showed hints of a bra, including to Ben and Theresa.

“Cute nightie,” Asheeka observed, giving it a once-over.

“Gina. She has an eye for cute,” I told her.

“Sexy-cute,” she told me.

I looked into the mirror. The cleavage was sexy. The material was semi-shiny and clingy.

Jeez, it was sexy-cute. Who knew Gina had that in her?

“I’m thinkin’ you’re good for now and need to take a load off,” Asheeka said.

I turned to her and took the hint.

She needed to go.

“Sorry, babe, my mind’s all over the place. You gotta go.”

“Happy to stay as long as you want, but yeah. There are syringes to sell and we’re one girl down in sellin’ ’em.”

I grinned.

She shifted out of the way and swung an arm toward the door.

I took her invitation and headed that way. Once in the bedroom, I didn’t waste time taking a load off, stretching out on the bed, pillows tucked behind me, upper body resting back.

That was a lot better.

“You want me to come tonight, company and a buffer?” Asheeka asked and I looked up at her.

I would love that. It was sweet as all get-out and would help a lot.

But she was late for work for me and I’d need her to come around to Benny’s for at least a couple more days. I didn’t need to suck all her time and goodness. I was not a fan of owing markers, and with me moving away, I wouldn’t have many opportunities for her to call them.

“I’ll be okay,” I answered.

“You keep sayin’ that, and I know you want me to believe it, but gotta say, honey, not sure that I do.”

I gave her a face and she returned a grin. Then she bent down, grabbed my hand, and gave it a squeeze.

“You need me, you know how to get me.”

“Yeah, babe. I do. And I appreciate it like you wouldn’t believe. Thank you,” I replied.

That got me another squeeze and a smile before she let me go and walked out.

“Later!” I called as she did.

“Later, girl!” she called back.

When she was gone, I looked to the nightstand to see if Ben left the remote.

He did not.

Something about that made me want to giggle out loud.

Perhaps my TV ploy did work.

I was reaching for Vogue when Benny walked in. I watched him do this. I also watched him come to a dead stop five feet in, eyes on me.

“I attacked my hair this morning,” I declared. “That’s a feat that’s difficult to conquer on the best of days, so, Warden, if you intend to force me to walk down to the commissary for breakfast, I’m gonna have to starve until lunch.”

Ben said nothing.

I kept talking. “If you bring me something to eat and more coffee, I’ll be nice to you for fifteen minutes.”

Ben still didn’t speak.

So I allowed, “Okay, twenty.”

Benny planted his hands on his hips but said not a word.

I went on. “And you can bring the remote back. Last night, I saw the Entenmann’s coffeecake on your counter. For a slice, I won’t fuck with your TV all day.”

“Told you, you can’t have sex. Doctor’s orders.”

I felt my head jerk in surprise at his words before I asked, “What?”

“Babe, you want me to fuck you, you give me big hair, a hint of a bra I’ll wanna see covering your tits before I’ll wanna take it off, and skin.”

My stomach tightened and not in a bad way.

But…

Was he crazy?

“What?” I asked, louder this time.

“Actually, you want me to fuck you, you gotta breathe. You want me to fuck you immediately, you give me that hair, a hint of bra, and show some skin.”

I narrowed my eyes. “What is up with you?”

“You play games with all that” —he flicked a hand in my direction— “you get repercussions.”

“Benny, what…the hell…are you talkin’ about?” I demanded to know.

“Hair, bra, nightie, skin,” was his absurd (and repetitive) answer.

“Gina bought me this nightie, Ben,” I informed him. “It’s like a dress.”

“It’s clingy and shows skin,” he informed me.

“It’s one of the only choices I have, seein’ as you didn’t take me home so I’d have different choices,” I retorted.

“Then I’ll set Ma on hittin’ your house to get you different choices.”

This would be a wasted chore as the nighties I had at home were way clingier and showed a whole lot more skin.

Therefore, I advised, “Actually, if you can’t control your base instincts, you should send her to the granny section of Macy’s.”

He got my drift and I knew it when his jaw got hard. “You doin’ that shit to fuck with me?”

“Fuck with you how?”

“Bein’ a tease, babe. A tease recovering from a fuckin’ GSW, which means I can’t teach you the lesson you should get for bein’ a tease.”

I felt my blood start to get hot, and this time, it was in a bad way.

“What, in all that I’ve done and said in the last week and a half, would give you the impression I’d tease you, Benny Bianchi?” I snapped.

“You, lyin’ in my bed, dressed like that, lookin’ like that.”

“I did my hair and put on a nightgown!” Now I was shouting.

“Precisely,” he returned.

“Are we really having this conversation?” I asked sarcastically, as well as still loudly.

“You got a robe?” he asked back.

Oh shit. I did.

Since I did, I glared.

Benny read my glare, dropped his hands from his hips, stalked to my bag, and dug through it, yanking out my robe.

He then stalked to the bed and dropped it in my lap, whereupon he announced, “Ma’s on her way over.”

I closed my eyes and forgot to be pissed because panic was gathering around my heart.

“She’s gonna be cool with you, Frankie,” Benny stated.

That was what I was panicked about. She was going to be cool. Sweet. Kind. Motherly. All this while feeling badly because she’d been in the wrong and something extreme happened that brought that to light. And her feeling badly would make me feel badly. Then I’d have to accept all the goodness of her, knowing I’d have to give it up again, my choice this time.

The bed depressed and my eyes flew open to see Benny sitting on it, again, hip to hip.

“Can you give me a hint why this is so difficult for you, babe?” he asked, sounding less peeved.

“Which part?” I asked.

“Any of it,” he answered.

“No,” I finally answered his question.

“You’re not gonna let me in there, even a little bit.” He stated this as a fact, but I decided to take it as a statement that needed affirmation.

“No, I’m not,” I agreed.

“Then I’m gonna hafta dig in there.”

I drew in a breath.

Benny digging in there.

God seriously freaking hated me.