Carina was hyped up on chocolate and Christmas lights, sprawled out on her stomach in her room at the don’s mansion, flipping through the channels on the flat-screen television while Brianna brushed her teeth in the private bathroom.
“Aren’t you tired?” Brianna asked as she spit into the sink. “It’s midnight, Carina.”
“I’m so not tired.” Carina kept pushing the button on the remote, not bothering with the menu, making it obvious she was looking for something to keep her attention. “You wanna watch a Christmas movie?”
“Just because you had ten cups of hot chocolate doesn’t mean I did,” Brianna whined, because Carina loved Christmas movies, and they usually went from one to another on those channels that played them late at night. Brianna knew it because this wasn’t her first Thanksgiving at the don’s. She’d been staying there for the holiday weekend since fifth grade. “We’ll be up until five in the morning if you start on Christmas movies.”
Carina didn’t acknowledge her; she just kept flipping through channels until Brianna fell into bed next to her wearing a pair of long-legged, conservative red pajamas her mother bought her two Christmases ago and were still scratchy and unused.
“You are very dressed up for bed,” Carina observed five minutes later when she still hadn’t found what she was looking for because the don had way too many channels. “It almost looks like you’re planning on going somewhere.”
Brianna dropped the choreography book she’d been studying, hoping for some miracle that’d allow Carina to go to sleep.
“Are you fucking with me?” Brianna asked her in disbelief.
Carina looked over her shoulder with a smile.
“You bitch.” Brianna grabbed a pillow and threw it at her.
“Why don’t you just tell me you need to sneak out to take advantage of my brother?” Carina held her hand up to the door. “Not like I didn’t hear you two last night. Not gonna forget that anytime soon. Thanks so much.”
“Oh my God, you cannot possibly be giving us shit about that after hearing you every night. ‘Harder. Faster. Deeper.’” Brianna really acted it out too, making her voice low and breathless. “Do you know how many nights I’ve dreamed about Paco because I keep hearing his name over and over? ‘Paco. Paco. Paco.’”
Carina arched an eyebrow. “Are you done?”
“Paco.” Brianna fell down on the bed and arched her back. She let out a low moan and said it again with extra flair. “Paco!”
Someone sleeping in the room next door hit the wall.
Carina and Brianna burst out laughing.
“Get the fuck out, puttana.” Carina pointed at the door. “Get out before I cut you.”
“You cut me, I’ll cut you back,” Brianna said as she pushed Carina’s shoulder and rolled out of bed. “Don’t wait up.”
“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” Carina suggested and then stopped. “Actually, just forget I said that. You should behave like the good Catholic girl you are.”
“Who lied to you?” Brianna laughed and then dodged a pillow when Carina threw it at her.
Brianna slipped into the hallway, hoping to God whoever was throwing things at the walls wouldn’t open the door to see her sneaking out.
Then she made the trek to Carlo’s room, which was unfortunately on the other side of the mansion. There were a few great rooms at the mansion. The permanent, off-limit rooms that weren’t for guests and usually had clothes and other personal items stored in them like a second home. Carina’s room that had a great view of the garden. Nova’s room that was just as big, and just as nice, and also had a great view of the garden, only from the other side of the house, like the don knew they were natural enemies. Then there was Carlo’s room, which was bigger than Carina’s, with a sitting room, a mini fridge, a microwave, and a fully stocked bar that made it more like an apartment than a bedroom.
Brianna had never fully figured out why Carlo got such great digs in the mansion, but she wasn’t complaining. She went to knock when she got to his room, but the door opened before she could.
“How’d you—”
Tino put his finger to his lips and pulled her in. When he closed the door, he said, “I got motherfuckers on either side.”
“Oh,” she started and then looked toward the window, which hung over the front driveway where Carlo could see anyone coming to the mansion. It was a good room for an enforcer, except for the music blaring in from the Christmas display. “Oh wow.”
“Yeah.” Tino rubbed at his forehead as “Funiculì Funiculà” started playing through the window. “It’s on a timer. It should go off in about two hours. First it was Frank Sinatra. Now it’s this Pavarotti shit. I don’t know what’s next, but if “Dominick the Donkey” comes on, I’m sorry, I love you, but I’m gonna have to blow my brains out.”