The Mafia's Legacy

Chapter 8: The Bitter-Sweet Balance

Victoria P.O.V

She sees the gaudy sign first. A bright white design of a thick, blacksmiths sledgehammer lights the dark street like a beacon guiding souls into heaven. A memory tugs at the edge of her mind, but it's too far to see clearly.

She lets the memory fade and ignores the prickling voices in her gut which whisper urgent tales of caution. If it is important, the image will become clear and she will remember. For now, her focus is on getting out of the moon-chilled cold.

Noah weaves them through a line of scantily dressed teenage girls, half of them already clearly drunk as they wobble and sway in their neon stilettos. The bouncer by the door doesn't look twice at their ID's, nor the scene playing out behind them. Victoria wrinkles her nose and lips in disgust.

“Are you sure this place is safe?" She leans her face close to Noah as they cross the steel metal threshold into a long, dimly lit hallway. It is wide enough for the two of them to walk shoulder-to-shoulder, but the ceilings are low. With a peek at the freshly painted black cornices, she reasons Noah could sweep his fingertips against them if he locked his back and straightened his arms.

“Yeah, don't worry." Noah's voice is husky when he yells loudly by her ear. “The place is new, only 'bout half a year old." Victoria curls her lips, disbelief evident in her eyes. That feeling in her gut returns; the whispering is louder, more insistent the farther they progress down the hallway. She feels a shift under her tennis shoes, her ankles loosening as more weight is put onto her heels.

They're on an incline.

The subtle prickling turns to clawing, the soft whispering becoming a crescendo bellowing throughout her whole body.

This was a mistake; they shouldn't be here.

Her knees un-lock, the muscles in her thighs and calves preparing to run as her lungs expand in preparation to take in rapid gulps of air.

“Noah..." She grabs hold of his fingers, their cool tips starling her. “I think we-"

The words die in her throat when they round the corner at the end of the hallway. She gapes, wide-eyed and slack-jawed, at the wide, open space stretched out before her. Her heart is already picking up speed as it races to match the beat of the thumping bass blasting around the room and under her feet.

The club is loud and cramped, the smell of sweat and s*x overpowering the various fragrances of deodorant and mixed beverages. There is a large square pit directly in front of her, five polished white marble steps leading down to it along each side. Most of the bodies are packed within it, various shades of color all swimming together in clusters.

Bright pink, deep purple, and various other shades of red and blue sweep the area like strobes from a lighthouse in the night. She follows their glowing paths around the room. There is a dark wooden bar on the right, stretching all the way along the wall. No seats line its side, the wandering patrons either standing in the arms of others or with their hands in their pockets as they wait for their orders. Only the braves souls decide to lean on the benchtop within splashing distance of the poring alcohol.

“Neat, huh?" Noah smirks, pride loud in his voice. Victoria nods in agreement, not trusting any intelligible words to croak out of her mouth. She follows soundlessly as Noah leads her to one of the booths in the back corner, the farthest from the glowing DJ booth along the back wall. His hand is a comforting presence on her lower back, warmth slithering from the point of contact and into her frozen limbs.

Noah places his duffel bag on the seat beside her before gesturing to the bar. “I'm going to get us some drinks," he says, voice barely audible. She nods and licks her lips before placing her fingers under her thighs. The red leather is smooth and cool to the touch. She can see how this material would be a welcome reprieve from the humid dance floor. Upon closer inspection she finds no torn leather or stains of alcohol and piss. A pleased hum sounds from her throat.

A squeal draws her attention to the bar, her eyes instantly narrowing on Noah. Victoria raises an eyebrow and huffs in astonishment at one girl's obvious flirting technique – her pointed red fingernails press against his lower back before sliding onto his shoulder and across his collarbone. To his credit Noah blushes, the dark pink dusting along his cheekbones visible even from across the room.

Victoria knows Noah is handsome – he always boasts about his popularity with females off the ice – and she has never doubted the truth behind those words. He is handsome, in a boy next door kind of way with his sandy blonde hair and bright blue eyes full of life.

Who wouldn't want a taste of that?

She snorts and looks away wondering what nickname Antoni would give him if they were to ever meet. Probably Beach Boy, or Prince Charming number eleven.

Noah returns soon after, shimming into the booth across from Victoria with a mischievous grin curling his red lips.

“Thanks," Victoria yells when Noah returns. The drink he bought for her is violet in color, sparkling swirls swimming throughout like stars at dusk. She takes a sip and sweet pomegranate explodes along her tongue.

“Good?" Noah asks, eyebrow raised in wary suspense. At Victoria's nod and continual slurping, he relaxes. “Good, I didn't know how sweet the pomegranate taste would be. They say it's been a popular drink, but I know you don't always follow trends."

Victoria laughs at his coy wink. His own drink is a goblet of orange fire with a fat cherry poised along the edge. Blood orange and cherries, a bitter combination. Not one she would expect from him.

She leans her forearms on the table, her drink in between them, and gestures to his drink. “You're quite full of surprises, aren't you?" She teases, her voice light.

“Nope." Noah takes a couple sips of his drink while wagging a finger in between them. “I'm the one asking questions tonight, Missy. So then," he copies Victoria's pose. “What's going on in that wild brain of yours, hm?"

Victoria sighs. Where to begin?

“I'm the daughter of the biggest mafia family in New York, who don't actually know that I skate, and I'm also attending NYU full time in the hopes of becoming a criminal defense lawyer at my father's prestigious firm. Also, my old childhood friend – who's family is also a part of the mafia – has finally returned home from being overseas the past eight years. He annoys the ever-living s*it out of me, but I can't stop thinking about how glad I am that he's actually back and that he still annoys me..."

Noah narrows his eyes and tilts his head forward. “What was that? I couldn't hear a thing you just said."

Victoria breathes in deeply, a bittersweet smile cooling her smooth lips. Her fingers twist together in her lap. How wonderful it would be if she could tell him all that. Olivia's voice from earlier flits through her brain like a bird soaring over ice – “The ice will offer comfort girl, but only to those open to receive it."

And so, she opens.

“I'm just a bit overwhelmed, you know?"

Noah nods, lips pursed in mock understanding. “Everyone feels that way sometimes."

“I just... I don't know." Victoria flails her hands in front of her, narrowly missing her drink. “I want to stand up on that pedestal at the end of the year with a smile on my face and bruises on my hip. It would make it all worth it – the late nights practicing, the early mornings studying – all of it would justifiable because I would win gold." Victoria's eyes glaze over, the image painting itself before her eyes. Her head would be raised high as she waves at the cheering crowd, the heavy weight of gold around her neck as light as a feather.

Noah slides his drink to the side and reaches across the table to grab hold of both Victoria's hands. Victoria focuses on the feeling of his thumb rubbing soothing circles over her knuckles.

“You're capable, Tori. Everyone sees it. It's why they push themselves even harder because they know if they slack for even a second, you'll overtake them." He tilts her head up, wiping away a loose tear with the sleeve of his olive jacket. The material scratches against her skin.

Victoria forces herself to smile, shrugging away the pained feel of her lips pushing up her cheeks. “The desire makes me feel crazy at times, like I can't get enough air into my lungs. Instead of the adrenaline loosening my bones and muscles, it tightens them up. And I freeze, unable to do anything in any part of my life." She titters humorlessly. “Just like a deer on an ice-covered lake."

“That's what makes work-life balance such a sought after thing, Tori. It escapes even the best of us." Noah frowns, eyes full of supportive pity. “Just believe in yourself more, kay?"