“What are you doing out here?” He sits beside me on the cool concrete steps, close enough that his leg brushes against mine.
I yank away. “Don’t touch me. Just leave me alone.”
“Piper, what happened in there? What’s wrong?”
A laugh bubbles out of me . . . or was that a dry sob? “Have you and your buddies been laughing about it behind my back? Or what’s the official word for men like you? Soldato?”
Mariano goes rigid beside me.
I cut him a glare. “You and your fellow soldatos probably thought it was good and funny, didn’t you?”
“Piper, what are you talking about?” His tone is one I’ve never heard from him—a low and dangerous sound that scrapes against me. “I’m a police detective, not some mob soldier.”
I grind my teeth together to lock in the tears. The only thing that would make this worse is Mariano seeing me cry.
“Where did you even get that idea? Have you seen a single shred of evidence that I’m faking my way through this job?”
“No, but when would I? You’d be great at pretending. You’d have to be for the police force to actually buy it.”
“Listen to me.” Mariano’s hand grips my bicep, tightens.
I look from his hand on my arm to his eyes. “Let me go, Mariano Cassano, or I’ll be forced to throw a fit right here.”
He lets go. “Yes, this kind of thing happens. Police officers get bought, Prohibition agents take bribes, but this is me, Piper. I thought . . .” Mariano’s gaze soaks in my unflinching face. “I thought you knew me better than that.”
“I thought I did too.”
Mariano swallows hard and looks away.
“If you weren’t hiding it, why weren’t you honest with me, Mariano? Why didn’t you tell me about your family?”
His words are frosty. “When, exactly, was I dishonest? I thought you knew. I thought, ‘How could she not know her old man is an associate?’”
I cringe at his choice of words. My father, whose job should be upholding the law, protects criminals from suffering consequences for the laws they break. My house, my education, and my clothes—all paid for with money that costs too much.
I brush away the offense and take a deep breath. “You knew I didn’t know.”
“I didn’t—”
“You did.” I look him in the eyes. “Because I told you so when we were on Clark Street.”
Mariano’s larynx bobs, and I can see he remembers just as clearly as I do. Your father doesn’t talk to you about his clients, then?
I let the memory settle between us. “You should’ve told me at that moment.”
“Maybe I should have.” Mariano pulls off his hat. Puts it back on. “But when I realized you hadn’t figured out our family connection . . . I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t want you to think less of me.”
“Is this why you won’t go after the Finnegans? Bad blood between your families?”
His eyes snap. “I can’t believe you’d even suggest that.”
“Piper.” Walter’s voice booms from behind us, making me jump. “Your father’s looking for you.”
I turn and find Walter towering over us, a flat expression on his face. “Tell him I don’t want to see him.”
Walter doesn’t budge.
“I said, I don’t want to see him.”
Walter looks to Mariano and then back at me. “Piper, he’s about to leave for a month. You can stop whatever you’re doing here for a minute and come say good-bye.”
“No.”
Walter’s knees pop as he crouches behind me. “I’m not above begging, you know. Please don’t make me tell your father bad news on his wedding day.”
I lean back so my shoulders rest against Walter’s knees. “My father is a lawyer for the mafia. Did you know this?”
Walter glances at Mariano, and then back at me. “Piper, you knew that.”
“I knew some of his cases involved mobsters, but I didn’t realize the extent of it.”
“You said it yourself,” Mariano says. “That they do horrific things, but they have a right to a fair trial too.”
“Is that what my father provides?” I know I sound hysterical, but I can’t seem to calm my voice down. “A fair trial?”
Walter’s big hands clasp my shoulders. “Listen, Pippy. Just put on a smile for another hour. Say good-bye, throw some rice, and then we can sort all this out.”
“So Father gets to spend a month carelessly gallivanting around Europe while I stew over this? I don’t think so.”
“What’s there to stew over? He’s a defense attorney. This is part of his job.”
“Fine.” I stand abruptly. If I go inside, at least I can get away from Mariano. “I’ll go talk to him.”
“Cool off, or you’ll wind up yelling,” Walter cautions.
“Maybe that’s not a bad thing. Maybe he deserves to be yelled at.” I yank one shoe strap off my ankle. Then the other. “But not in these stupid shoes. I’m done with these.”
“Piper—”
“Just let her be.” Mariano’s words are gruff. “She’s smart enough to decide for herself.”
“Don’t flatter me.” I brush imagined concrete dust from my dress, toss my wretched shoes into a wastebasket, and charge into the lobby in my stocking feet.