BlackHeart

When you spend four years of your life on the West Coast to complete fashion school, it becomes a pretty big move when you decide to go live with your older brother in New York.

Especially as a new graduate with no definitive next steps.

What had accumulated over those four years was clothes, lots of clothes and shoes and of course accessories too. Design is my passion and I both lost and gained a lot when deciding to pursue it.

My brother Elio was kind enough to pay for a moving company to haul my stuff across the country. I still had a luggage bag with me, rolling the half broken thing out to the pick up station.

I thought I'd find Elio there, but instead some guy I’ve never seen before was standing with a sign: Mia Fiore.

When I approached him I could immediately tell he was Italian like my own family. He looks like a man who likes his pasta and it shows. His stance reminded me of a bulldog.

“Um, hello?” I was unsure how to approach this seemingly random stranger. His eyes snapped over and he gave me a curt nod. “Miss Fiore?”

When I nodded back he introduced himself as Riccardo.

“Your brother is unavailable today. He sent me to fetch you” he let me know.

“Lovely, did he happen to mention where you might be taking me? Because last I spoke to him we weren’t going to be able to move into the new apartment until next week” I looked at the man expectantly.

Riccardo was in a full suit. He had the sign tucked under his arm while he removed my hand from the luggage, starting to wheel the clunky thing over to a blacked out four door car.

Here’s the thing with my brother...

We were very close growing up, but our recent life choices had us mostly separated for a long time.

We come from a troubled home with our narcissistic/abusive father and our weak, compliant mother who put him before anything...even us.

Elio couldn’t stand living in our household, so at 18 years old, fresh out of high school he enlisted into the Army.

I was 14 at the time and those years were my hell.

Elio spent 2 years in training or whatever it is, then he spent the following 3 years in the Army Special Forces. Which meant for 5 whole years I barely saw my brother.

I also left home at 18, but not in the best way. I was desperate and my past shows it...

Moving on...so from 18 to 19 years old I worked for a seamstress who taught me all about sewing and making clothes.

I'd always been pressured to look my best while growing up because my narcissistic father demanded it. He had an image to uphold in public.

Through that I did find a love for fashion and used it as my outlet.

My parents were against me going to fashion school though, so my father refused to pay for it. He wanted me to be a lawyer or doctor or something he could brag about.

At 19 years old I finally got the scholarships I needed to go to school in Los Angeles for the next four years.

It was my escape from my parents who I’ve long since cut off.

But it was also to get away from the man I ended up living with when I was desperate to leave home. Freedom wasn’t easy though. I struggled with money and a lot of other things.

Four years later, I am now 23 and Elio is 27 years old.

The thing is, I have no idea what he does for a living. I just know he has money now, and that I feel like he’s a stranger to me.

He isn’t the troubled 18 year old who left me; he’s now a seasoned Army Veteran and a successful businessman all due to his best friend, Domani De Luca.

I met the guy four years ago when they both got out of the military together. Dom has a successful family. And apparently the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, because over the years I’ve heard things.

I know him and my brother have a fast lifestyle now.

I haven’t seen Dom in years, but I know one thing for sure about him. He’s the hottest guy I’ve ever seen and that was four years ago...imagine now.

The man is strange. He has no social media at all, so I really never got to get a peek at him recently. My brother doesn’t have social media either. Maybe they find it juvenile. I don’t know.

“Yes, Miss Fiore, I was instructed to bring you to Mr. De Luca’s home for the time being,” Riccardo informed me. Oh.

“And where is that?” I was already sitting in the back seat of this rather nice vehicle while this bulldog with slick hair started talking my ear off answering all my questions.

“The Hudson is the newest, sleekest gated community currently in New York, right on Manhattan’s silhouette. And it’s about 14 minutes away from that heart of New York City.”

As we got closer, the apex of a looming skyline high tower was becoming more and more visible.

Reflective blue-glass eccentrically cut and shaped into unique angles. In fact all the buildings started to become jaw dropping.

“They’ve got high end shopping and art and nice parks” Riccardo continued.

“Does Mr.DeLuca live in one of these high rises?” I leaned forward between the front seats and pointed through the windshield. His stubby finger zeroed in on a particular building.

“That’s 15 Hudson Yards...it’s, uh, impressive,” the man looked up like he too was seeing the place for the first time. I was awestruck.

The shape was odd. Curtain glass walls with a rectangular base, but then it holds round curves to make the building almost look like a four leaf clover. I’ve never seen anything like it.

It surpassed the clouds, I swear.

“What kind of businesses does he own?” I tried my hand at getting some information on the mysterious Domani De Luca. I saw Riccardo’s almost black eyes shift up to the rear view mirror then back on the road again.

“A lot of different businesses” was all he said. When I further inquired he distracted me. “The building has a 77 foot pool. I’m not kidding...I read the brochure” he told me. Hm.

“Are you Mr. De Luca’s driver?” I decided to veer off. I’ll get my answers, but in due time.

“I’m more like...a personal assistant” he shrugged his bulldog shoulders.

“How about my brother?”

He nodded, “I work for him too.”

When we were at a light Riccardo suddenly started fishing in his console before producing a pamphlet. “Here, read it.”

He showed me the brochure he’d previously mentioned. We were stuck in New York traffic, so why not. The first big words I read were: Penthouse in the Sky.

They were advertising the 270 degree view of the Hudson River and the New York skyline...okay that sounds really pretty.

900 feet tall with white oak wood flooring and gray matte finish, a double height living room with curving floor-to-ceiling windows, a private elevator, and an elegant floating staircase.

“This sounds like a lot” I stated absentmindedly as I continued to read on.

“You’ll find that Mr. De Luca is... a lot” he said, though I had no idea what he meant by it. I would’ve asked had he not interrupted.

“Here” he waved over a private entrance that I guess the Penthouse floors have access to. Private garages and things.

The garage looks seemingly normal until you realize the kinds of cars that are parked there. Geez, where am I?

I was just sharing a room with messy strangers for several years. I’m almost overwhelmed. I feel inferior and I’ve spent too many years of my life that way.

My father loved psychologically terrorizing me and his favorite thing was to tell me I needed to be prettier, better dressed, better makeup.

He called me inferior all the time you’d think it was my middle name.

When people say I’m so beautiful nowadays I cringe at the compliment, because the little girl in me is telling me they’re lying.

Living in squalor since I was fresh out of high school felt like a punishment meant for me. A shitty life for a shitty girl. Especially since I left my parents and cut them off.

Dad always felt like God... and on hard nights I swore it was him who set all this in motion, even without being in my actual life anymore.

I’ve always felt like his hands were around my throat like a leash and the more I tug or try to run the more I choke. I’m pretty sure if my father found me he’d beat me to a pulp for leaving him. I know he’s tried looking for me.

Though he let my brother go a long time ago, because he’s ‘a man’ who should have his own life.

My dad thinks he owns me just like he owns my mother. My mother is drop dead gorgeous and plain out stupid.

She’s obsessed with him, and he’s obsessed with himself.

If my father saw this building, in this neighborhood, and the penthouse I’m about to go up too, he’d throw a fit. He’d be jealous and out right deranged.

My father wants to be this rich and important, but he isn’t. He works in Boston in a successful investment company, but he isn’t CEO or anything. It’s a middle tier position.

He always surrounded himself with impressive people, so in turn people just assumed he was impressive also. I’d call us higher middle class.

I won’t lie and say the four hour gap between New York and Boston wasn’t scary for me. I managed to get away from Dad because I was literally on the other side of the country.

Elio's been in New York for years though and hasn’t heard a word from my parents, so I think that’s my own paranoia talking.

I’ve gone to extreme measures to cut those people off. I had to block half my family who'd update and inform my parents of things they saw on social media. Everything is set to private.

I had to drop my best friend in Boston because her dad and my dad were also best friends. Her father pressured her into telling my father things about me.

I’m not an easily accessible person.

I have a new phone number and no listed address anywhere. I do have my school records, but there are plenty of fashion design schools for them not to know which one I would even be at.

Plus I’m not a minor and colleges wouldn’t give parents any information anyway.

I’ve had plenty of daydreams and night wishes that I’ll become a successful designer, but the little voice in the back of my head tells me I’m not good enough.

But another little intrusive voice tells me that if I am good enough, my name will be public, and my family will have access to me again.

Dreams and nightmares intertwine, making me enter the crossroads of hard decisions. New York is the hub of fashion, but how brave will I be?

I used to have Elio, my big bro, as my big protector. At 14 years old I had to learn how to be my own protector.

Who do I need to be protected from now, though? What’s next?