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I’m saying the words, talking about Dad, and he sits back in the big chair. A Cheshire Cat grin spreads across his face.
I still can’t remember the speech, but it’s in my chest, ready. Words rise and fall, and I follow.
At the end, everybody claps. I don’t know if they’re all clapping because the speech was good, or because they’re so relieved it’s over. Or simply because I didn’t topple face-first into the punch bowl.
My brothers stand, applauding. They both look from me to Dad and back. I’m searching for Lucy’s soft curves. One look at her always gets me jump-started.
But I can’t find her.
The family has rules. Codes. Formalities to observe.
After the speech, I must make my way down the table to Dad’s chair. Every man I pass extends a hand. They pay respect, I greet them back. It’s a dance. Each exchange adds respect, and I collect the tributes for my father.
He receives it when he stands and claps me on the shoulder. A glint of a smile in his eye tells me that he’s pleased.
“I hear the Morettis are getting hot under the collar about how much work and development is going into the relaunch. Lucas said our new casino is sweeping up all of the local talent.” He fixes me with his eyes.
“I know, Dad.”
“Are you doing it on purpose?”
“Scooping up and poaching as much of the local talent as I can? Dropping a wrench into their gaming operations? Are you asking if I’m doing that on purpose?”
“No, Paul. I know that you are.”
“I’ve got no experience in this kind of work, Dad. So I always try to think, ‘What would Dad do?’ and I try to let that guide me.”
He reaches out. Then he taps my chops. Holds my jaw in his palm and looks hard in my eyes.
He leans closer. “Good job, Paul. But watch your back. Listen to your feelings, but listen carefully. Don’t be too quick to believe what’s on the surface.”
I squeeze his hand.
He leans nearer. Lowers his voice. “A team has come to town from Boston.”
“The Moretti family?”
“Freelancers they hired in.”
“Do we know what for?”
His lips tighten and his head shakes. “Nothing good.”
My sister JoJo pulls me aside. “You’ve been drinking water all evening.”
JoJo’s husband, McQueen, smiles and leans over to shake my hand. “Great speech.”
“I was nervous about giving it.”
JoJo smiles. “Oh, it was great, Paul. You did really well.” Sometimes, I think JoJo understands me. She may be the only member of the family who does. She says, “That wasn’t what I meant, though. I meant you haven’t been drinking so you could drive Lucy home.”
Instinctively, I look around for JoJo’s best friend. I still haven’t seen her since I got up to speak. At last I find her. Quiet, reserved and alone, in the corner of the room. She’s gorgeous.
“Would she not rather have a limo?” I ask JoJo. “Sit in the back with a glass of champagne?”
“She’d like something more personal.” She looks in my eyes like she’s trying to tell me something. Who knows what goes on in women’s minds? All I do know is that I can trust my sister JoJo.
“Your speech was great.” Lucy’s smile warms me. “You really got across what this family means to you. I know you struck a chord with JoJo. Other people definitely responded, too.”
Her eyes set off a wave of feelings. Sensations that I don’t know how to cope with.
I shake my head. “That must be what it’s like for people on stage. I don’t think I could ever go through it again.”
She touches my hand. I feel a thump inside me, like a roll of thunder, a quake from deep underground. “This is such an incredible family, Paul. I feel lucky to be here.”
“You’ve been JoJo’s best friend so long, you’re almost part of the family.”
She squeezes my hand. “I don’t know all of you as well as I’d like to.”
I’m wishing I had a drink now. “JoJo said you might like me to drive you home. I don’t know if you’re ready to leave though.”
“Oh,” her eyes shine as her moist lips part, “yes, Paul.”
Chapter Two
Lucy
Since I was in college, I’ve had two serious crushes. Both at the same time. That makes me feel kind of slutty. And I wouldn’t like to admit it, but I do kind of like the feeling. One is on Paul, and I’ll probably feel that way about him forever.
He almost never speaks, but you can always feel how strong his dark depths are underneath it all.
One time, I saw him in a rage. That should have put me off him. I kept on telling myself that. But it didn’t. It only made me want him more.
A man in a bar was looking at me and he said something I didn’t hear. Paul sprang and lunged. He must have put the whole of his weight into that punch. The man’s arms and legs went out and up. He spun backward and fell in a heap.
