“Val seems like a forgiving person.”
“Hah!” He turned and met my stare. “And you know her so well?”
“I’m about to,” I muttered, sitting on the bed. “Look, for what it’s worth, there isn’t any part of this situation that makes me comfortable. My family is perfectly happy in Chicago. The Cappo runs things from there as well as Italy. We finally have peace because of what your father has done, because of the Empire he has built. I’m not here out of any selfish ambition. I’m here because I owe it to him to follow through with his plan, from the very beginning, so even if that means I have to eat shit — literally, I’ll do it. That’s how much I respected Luca. I would consider it the greatest compliment of my life if someone said I lived the way he did.”
Dante tensed again. “If he was so great, why did he leave us?”
Playing therapist wasn’t my strong suit.
Why wasn’t Andi with me?
She’d always known what to say.
When to make a joke.
When to be serious.
When to offer wisdom.
I had my gun.
And scars on my body.
That’s all I had.
“This life,” I started slowly, struggling to choose the right words, “is not the one he wanted for you. Had he not died, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. But he did die. That leaves us with only one choice.”
“I haven’t decided yet,” he whispered.
“Neither have I.”
He frowned. “What do you mean?”
I smirked. “I haven’t decided if you’ve got the balls for the job yet, cupcake. It’s going to take a hell of a lot more than trying to sucker punch me in the face to prove your worth.”
“Yeah well, I’m young, not stupid, I figured with your training the easiest way to shock you was to charge you like a bull.”
“It probably would have worked if you hadn’t yelled before you ran at me.”
Dante laughed softly and then a bit louder. “Yeah, I’ll work on that.”
“Mafia rule number one.” I nodded. “Don’t let them know they’re dead until they see their own blood on their hands.”
“Morbid.”
“Life.”
“I feel like I need to go to Disneyland after talking with you. Happiest place on earth, Sergio… I need happy if this my future.”
“I can’t promise you’ll find it in the fold.”
“Yeah. But one can hope, right?”
No. Wrong.
There was no happiness in death.
There was only finality.
And silence.
“You drive?” I changed the subject.
“Yeah, why?”
“You’re taking me and Frank to the meeting.”
“So now I’m your chauffer?”
“Even made men have to start somewhere,” I called out as I made my way into the bathroom. “Oh, and touch any of my weapons, and I’m going to decapitate you before you can utter a sorry.”
He held his hands up. “Got it.”
To show our simple skill, that is the true beginning of our end —A Midsummer Night’s Dream
Valentina
HE WAS RIGHT.
I hated that he was right.
Because the morning came.
And I still felt angry and confused.
My mornings used to be filled with laughter and teasing. Instead, we all sat around the small coffee table and waited in silence as the clock on the wall ticked off the minutes.
I was almost afraid to move.
Afraid to breathe.
Dante wasn’t there.
And I was worried.
Worried that we were in trouble — or that we owed money to someone. After tossing and turning all night, that was the only conclusion I could come up with. We owed money to some very bad people, and they needed us to pay them back.
It finally made sense.
How the flower shop and bar were able to stay open through the economic downturn.
Why, even though we were never busy, we never struggled to pay bills.
Dante’s bloodied hands! The whispers about his fighting.
I felt so stupid.
So naive that I hadn’t seen it before.
And, if I was being totally honest, I felt a bit betrayed that my uncles hadn’t confided in me about their financial struggles but put my own brother in some sort of underground fighting gang. Guilt gnawed at my chest. There were so many things I’d asked for in the past few years that I never really needed.
Things that I couldn’t sell now.
I’d already done a Google search for extra jobs, but everything available was, basically, either dangerous like a bike courier or they wanted more experience than I had.
One thing was for sure.
I wasn’t going to college — probably ever.
The screen door opened and then slammed shut. Footsteps echoed across the worn hardwood floor, and then Dante, Sergio, and the older man — Frank, was it? — all appeared from down the hall.
They shuffled into the kitchen where I sat at the table.
My heart sank even further.
We were going to get killed in front of the pancakes.
I just knew it.
Because everyone’s expressions were grim, as if a death just happened in the family, only I knew it was probably going to be mine.