Carlo laughed and cupped a hand over his mouth as he studied Nova. “That’s exactly what you look like. Puttaniere.”
“Whatever.” Nova turned away from the mirror and put a hand on the counter. He bowed his head right there in front of Carlo, who had become the only person besides his brothers Nova felt like he could trust. Out loud he prayed, “Please, Ma.”
Carlo grabbed Nova’s face and pressed his forehead to Nova’s. Then Carlo said the Hail Mary in Italian, holding the cross around his neck like he did this a lot when he needed strength. Nova squeezed his eyes shut, trying to let the words wash over him. To somehow give him power. It wasn’t quite the same as Carina’s “Ave Maria” in the shower, but it felt like a good sign. When Carlo was done, they both crossed themselves, and Carlo kissed Nova’s forehead. “He’s strong, Nova. He walked away once, right?”
Nova shook his head, because the tears were threatening. He glanced up, fighting the urge to break down three minutes before this meeting. He looked across the tiled ceiling, quickly counting them, hearing in his mind young Tino.
“How many tiles on the ceiling?”
“One hundred and twenty-two.”
“How many dots in the tiles?”
“Twenty.”
“All the dots?”
“Two thousand, four hundred and forty.”
“Madonn’.” Tino stopped washing his hands and looked up in surprise. “If we had a dollar for all the dots on this ceiling, we’d be rich.”
“Yeah, we would,” Nova agreed. “If we had a hundred dollars for every dot, we could buy a house.”
“And a dog,” Tino added. “I wish we had a dog.”
“Can’t have a dog in the building,” Nova reminded him. “We got you instead.”
A knock sounded on the door, and their mother called out in Italian, “Ehi, are you drowning in there?”
“Sorry, Ma,” Nova answered for both of them.
“You’re not even supposed to be up here. This is a private place. A special place. Hurry up, but make sure Piccolo washes his hands.”
“He’s washing ’em,” Nova said impatiently. “What? We’re not allowed to be in his restaurant? Or take a piss in his bathroom?”
She peeked in and narrowed dark eyes as she pointed at Nova. “Watch your mouth!”
Tino smiled in amusement, and Nova hit the back of his head in retaliation. “Stai zitto, piccolo.”
He didn’t hit him hard, but Tino went down gloriously, in the way only a four-year-old could, cupping his head as he shouted, “Ow!”
“Maledizione, Casanova!” His mother came into the men’s bathroom like a hawk, swooping up Tino and then smacking the back of Nova’s head. “You don’t hit the baby!”
Tino rested his cheek on their mother’s shoulder and stuck his tongue out at Nova before she disappeared out the door.
“You okay?” Carlo asked him.
Nova was still looking at the door. “I guess.”
People weren’t meant to remember things forever.
No one knew how hard it was to see all the faces, from all the years, and not forget the details. No one but him understood how much people changed and how much they stayed the same. He lived it every day. He saw it every time he closed his eyes.
“Strunzu—” Carlo started cautiously.
Rationally, Nova knew it wasn’t his mother’s four-year-old baby out there missing, but to him it felt the exact same, because it was the same to Nova. Little Tino was every bit as real to him as sixteen-year-old Tino.
“I’m okay,” Nova lied and turned back to the mirror to run his hands through his hair one more time before the gel fully dried. “Let’s do this.”
“Where the fuck is Rosie? Where’s my cousin?”
The voice echoed from behind the closed door. Nova frowned as he stood outside the meeting room.
“What’s in the briefcase?” Monte asked next to him.
“Shh,” Nova said quickly and leaned in to hear past the thick wood door.
The guards outside watched him do it, but no one said anything.
“You got the Moretti kid! I know you fucking got him! Move the fuck over, Lupo. We’re sitting next to Moretti, and I want Marcell and this cuntface to sit right there. That’s where I want them. Move, Lombardis! Give them your seats, ’cause I wanna fucking watch!”
“We’re not moving. This is my seat. I’m keeping it.”
“Where’s Rosie, then? Tell me where my cousin is, and you can keep the fucking seat. You called this meeting, Marcell. We all know it’s you.”
“Me. No. I called this meeting the second I found out. It wasn’t me.”
“Lorenzo, you motherfucker, is Rosie dead?”
There was a deafening silence in the room, and Nova looked to Carlo, who mouthed, Savios.
“He brought you as a sacrificial lamb. I hope you know that, Lorenzo. I’m just gonna sit here and watch, and I’m gonna fucking enjoy it.”
Nova’s heartbeat was thundering in his ears, because he realized the Savios knew if Tino was alive or dead. A part of him wanted to run away from the reality, but he opened the door instead.