Ivy's Twisted Vine Redux Latrivia Nelson (best selling autobiographies .txt) 📖

but the pain in his chest wouldn’t stay at bay.

Getting out of bed, he sat up on the side of the bed and grabbed his chest. Sweat pouring from his forehead, he tried to stand. He needed to make it to the restroom, but the room was spinning. He kept seeing flashbacks of Brooks’ body laying on the floor and shooting Caesar in the head. He kept hearing Ivy’s voice and seeing the ultra sound pictures. He tried to stop his out-of-control thoughts but they cascaded through his mind without any way to block them.

“I’ve got to stop this shit,” he said holding his head in his hands. “I’ve got to…”

Tears formed at the sides of his eyes, and finally without a fight he let them fall to his cheeks. And there in the middle of the night, back in the place where his life story began, Nicola let go and cried.

In a quiet hysteria, Nicola wiped the large warm tears from his eyes and tried to hide his moans with his massive hands. He buried his face and sighed feeling his body tremble with pain.

Interrupting his breakdown or breakthrough, his cell phone rang. Startled, he reached over and grabbed the phone. Ivy. He cleared his throat.

“Hello.”

“Nicola?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m sorry to call you so late. I just couldn’t sleep.”

“It’s okay.” He tried to keep from crying.

“I just…I wanted to make sure that you were okay. I’ve had the awful feeling in my gut…like something is wrong.”

“No. I’m okay.” He wiped his eyes. “I was just…um…resting.”

“Well, I’ll let you go. I just wanted to tell you that I’m here for you. I know that all of this has been extremely hard for you.”

“I know, baby. Thanks.” He pulled himself together. “How are you and the babies?”

“We’re fine.”

“Good. I’m glad.” The phone was silent for a moment.

“Well, I’d better let you get some rest. I just wanted to call, as promised.”

“Thanks.”

“Goodnight, Nicola.”

“Goodnight, Ivy.”

And just like that she had saved him. His heart stopped rushing. His thoughts dissolved and he wanted more than anything to be back in Memphis with Ivy. Only Ivy was with Grey. He shook his head in disbelief. Ivy was with Grey. He had to accept that.

Finally pulling himself out of his pity party, Nicola decided to go down to his father’s bar and have a drink. Pulling the cover from his sweaty body, he stood up naked and stretched his long limbs. Searching in the darkness for his briefs, he pulled them on, wiped his tired face and slipped down the back staircase through the den into to the famous Agosto home bar.

***

It was like something out of a movie. Every since he was a little boy, Nicola adored the family bar. Housing every type of clear and dark liquor that he had ever tasted, the fifteen-foot, eight shelf, wall-to-wall unit was a work of art. An Irish carpenter had custom designed it to replicate a bar his father had frequented in Mexico before he had a fortune. Since before he was of age, Nicola had gone down to the bar, poured himself a hefty helping of spirits and sat in the corner drinking when no one was around. At first it started as a dare from his brother Santo, but as he got older it became a necessity.

Hitting the lights, the bar lit up and Nicola made his way around it to make a nice stiff drink. Grabbing a cigar out of the humidor under the cabinet, he lit the large Cohiba and took a drag.

“Ahh,” he said aloud after an exasperated sigh. To smoke a nice cigar, have a good shot of Cognac and release himself was all that he needed to get back on track. Grabbing the remote, he turned on the sixty-inch plasma television across the room, searched for ESPN and sat down on a leather top barstool.

He took in the strong drink, thankful for its potent contents and relished at the burning sensation it gave down his dry throat. He poured another quickly and took a long drag off his cigar when he noticed waves out in the pool. Downing the second double shot, he walked to the glass doors and flicked on the floodlights.

“Dad?” He opened the doors to a clear, midnight sky and soft pre-summer breeze.

“Ciao, Nico,” he father said pulling himself out of the pool.

“Good evening to you old man,” he said proud that his father was taking an interest in self-preservation at such an old age. “When did you get back?”

“Just,” he father said grabbing a white terrycloth robe. “I figured that a nice swim would relax me before I went up to your mother. You should have a go at it…it’s heated.”

“The one thing besides the upgrade in televisions that has changed in this place.” Nicola smiled. “I’ll try it tomorrow, maybe.”

Walking up to his father in his briefs, Nicola and his only role model stood face-to-face. His father was a large man, standing six feet six inches tall. His build was wide and solid. His tan was perfect with his chiseled features just as he had given his son. He boasted curly silver healthy hair, intense brown almond eyes, naturally arched eyebrows, perfect heart shaped lips and the signature dimples in both cheeks and chin. His skin was still firm and his stance still strong. He was the head of the proud Agosto famiglia. Adamo Agosto.

“Look at you,” Adamo said reaching out for his son.

“Hi ya, pop.” Nicola allowed his father to kiss him on both cheeks.

“It’s good to have you home.” Adamo smiled. “Are you here for long?”

“Not long enough to wear out my welcome, but long enough to say hello. A few weeks at most.”

“Good.” His father said in approval. “Let’s go inside, and you can pour your father one of those drinks you were just having.”

“You saw that, huh?”

“My boy, in my house, I see everything.”

**

The Monday morning sun was hidden behind thick dark clouds rumbling with the