“You’re late,” he muses.
“Then get out of the fucking way.” I push past him, and he dramatically takes a step back as if falling, acting wounded even as he puts his hands on his chest as if I’d struck him.
“Did you see what he did? Seriously, Payton, I’d run while you still have the chance.”
I look back at my brother to see that he’s teasing, keeping it light either to make up for being a jackass to her the other day or just to keep the mood from souring. But it hits a little too close to home for me. Her running would ruin me.
“A little late for that,” I say with a wink her way to keep the moment playful and not let her get the idea that it’s a possibility. Because it’s not. Beyond the debt, I own her. But even without it, she’d still be mine.
“I don’t mind,” she says softly, and Bobby and I both turn to look at her.
Her, in all her splendor. Head held high and her cheeks pink to match her dress.
With a small squeeze of her hand, I gently pull her toward the dining room. I can hear voices and know they’re already seated, but they won’t start eating till everyone’s here. And I might have arrived just in time to avoid the pre-lunch conversations.
Not that it’ll stop my family from asking inappropriate questions while they shovel Mama’s pasta into their mouths.
The dining room, like everything else, is exactly the same as when I grew up here. Nothing has changed since wewere kids. The table is still long and embellished, though worn in places. Mama has never been a fan of having something that went unused. I swear I even caught her sitting in a different chair every day, just to make sure someone did.
As expected, the conversation stops when Payton and I make our entrance. We’re followed by Bobby, but he goes to his seat with a drink already in his spot. Danny must have seen us coming from the cameras, or the front gate could have alerted Vinny of our arrival. Either would have made sense for why we were greeted at the door. Not that we couldn’t get in on our own. Mama leaves the door unlocked when she’s here; she’s never one to close herself off to a possible new conversation from anyone willing to visit.
Of course, Dad made sure, even well after his death, that the best team guards her every second of her life. She might never lock the door to anything, but she’ll always have a wall of security at her back. Something I’ll make sure is in place for Payton once this becomes official.
Though, with me bringing her here, it’s already as official as it can get.
“Oh, Tommaso, it is so good to see you. And who is this?” Mama says as she rises from her seat at one end of the table. Vinny sits at the other. Bobby and Danny are on one side, and Dante is on the other, with a single chair beside him.
“This is Payton, Mama. Payton, this is my mama, Cynthia Leone,” I introduce them.
Payton smiles. “Hello, Mrs. Leone.”
“Please, call me Cynthia or Mama, dear. Everyone does.” She takes Payton’s hand and pulls her over to the empty seat. “Dante, dear, be useful and get another chair for Tommy, will you?”
“Of course, ma’am.” He moves quickly, and my brothers and I share a snicker, knowing something my cousin doesn’t.
When he comes back quickly with the extra chair, Mama is quick to shake her head at him putting it on the other side of Payton.
“No, dear, on the other side with the other boys. Payton will sit by Tommy.” And no one else.
If Mama sees Dante as competition, she’ll snuff it out quickly to guarantee herself a grandchild. Even if I’m not sure that’s in play for me and Payton, it’s what’s on my mama’s mind.
One of the many kitchen aides who work here comes out quickly and sets another place, moving all of Dante’s items to his new seat, far away from Payton, and getting me new items. Even the possibility of her touching something another man used isn’t acceptable for Mama.
“Sit, dear. Tell us a little about yourself,” Mama says as she nods to the staff to start bringing the meal out.
“Um, not much to tell.”
“She works for me, Mama,” I cut in. “She’s a dancer.”
Vinny coughs on his drink, and Bobby just smirks into his. Danny has a stoic face, as always, and Mama looks confused.
“What kind of dance?” Mama might know about the overall family business, but there’s a lot she doesn’t know. We would tell her if she asked, but she doesn’t. And with her being considered out of the family, or at the very least retired since Dad died and Vinny took over, she’s not aware of all the ins and outs of things.
I answer before Payton even opens her mouth. “She does aerial acrobatics. Before that she was training to be a prima ballerina.”
“Oh, the ballet? I love the ballet. Did you get my tickets that I left for you at roll call last night, dear?” she asks me with a twinkle in her eye.
She knows I did, but I oblige her anyway. “Yes, thank you, Mama. We found it extremely pleasurable.”
