Read Vanni: A Prequel (Groupie Book 4) for Free Online Page B

have other obligations on the holidays. It’s just me and Aunt Susan now. “Sure, okay,” I say, but I still pout.
    She giggles and stands on her tiptoes to kiss me on the lips. Even with the extra steps, she has to strain to reach me. I bend happily to meet her halfway. “Maybe I could stay with you tonight,” I murmur against her lips.
    She giggles again. “I told you I have to get up early tomorrow. This weekend is going to be chaos. I need some sleep.”
    I wrap my arms around her tiny waist. “You can sleep on the train.”
    She indulges my passionate kiss for a moment before she finally pulls away. “I’ll see you on Monday,” she promises.
    “You need some cab fare?” I offer, but Tony shakes his head.
    “Her apartment is on the way to my place. I’ll just give her a ride. If that’s okay.”
    I nod. Of course it’s okay. It reassures me to know she’s with someone I trust, someone who can protect her against the mean streets of New York City. Of course, as an Irish-American from Boston, with four older brothers the size of linebackers, I know that despite her diminutive size, Lori is quite capable of taking care of herself. But still, it’s Christmas Eve-Eve and the streets were especially crowded, even with the frigid weather.
    “Thanks for everything, man,” I tell him as I envelop him into a bro-hug.
    “My pleasure,” Tony says.
    “Next time you’ll come to see me play,” I promise with a wide smile.
    “I wouldn’t be anywhere else,” he assures me before he takes Lori by the arm and escorts her down the stairs. I glance back to the bar, to see if Yael is still there. Perhaps I’ll join him again. I have no place to be for the next few hours.
    But the reclusive guitarist has disappeared, as has the horny front man, Marty. I stay only for one more drink, where I stare at the empty stage the way a homeless guy might stare at a hot meal on somebody else’s table. I want this. I need this. I have to make this happen.
    When I make it home a little over an hour later, I find Aunt Susan asleep in her chair, a book opened across her lap. My heart fills with love for this woman. She’s the one who gave me the gift of music. There’s only one way to repay her. I have to make myself a huge success so that I can give her the life she deserves. No more waiting on all of us, no more struggling to make ends meet, no more worries that the roof might leak or the plumbing might fail.
    I would treat her like a queen. And I knew I would always be her prince.
    I kneel down beside her, propped up on my knees as I circle her generous waist with both arms. I’m holding her tight, my head on top of the book on her lap, when she stirs. “Giovanni,” she murmurs as she strokes my hair. “Did you just get home?” I nod but say nothing. “Did you have a good time?”
    I lift my head to look at her. “The best.”
    A tender smile appears on her face. “Good. You deserve it.”
    “You deserve more,” I tell her. “And one day, I’m going to give it to you.”
    “Oh, Vanni,” she says as she cups my face with that gnarled but gentle hand. “You already did.”
    “I mean it,” I assert. “I wouldn’t even know to sing if it hadn’t been for you.”
    She chuckles as she pulls me back into her lap to stroke my hair. I cuddle her closer. “You were born a singer, Giovanni. I just lit the way. If it hadn’t been me, the music would have found you eventually. That’s how destiny works.”
    I squeeze her tightly. God, how I needed to believe that. “Do you really mean that? You’re not just saying it, right?”
    She whacks me softly on the back of my head with an open palm. “You would really accuse me of lying?”
    I shake my head, instantly chagrined.
    “Many singers have darkened these doors. They learn all the notes. They can sing perfectly on pitch. But you, my sweet, sweet boy. You have a gift. When you open your mouth to sing, people stop to listen. They know you have something to say,