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“True, until you decide to become a made man for the Andrettis. Jesus H. Christ, brother, how long do you think I can cover for your ass before the bill comes due?”
Pinching my fingers against the bridge of my nose didn’t begin to alleviate the pressure. Speculating that he knew was one thing. Hearing the words come out of his mouth, another altogether.
Bluster was all I had left. That and the sheer conviction that I was right. I had no other option other than to continue on the path I’d set. “You’re covering for me, hmm? Since when?”
“Since the day you turned your back on us and decided to take up with the enemy.”
“Oh, really. And why would you do that?”
“Because I only have one brother, and if anyone’s going to take him out, I reserve the right.” He exhaled. “Dammit, Gio, why do you put me in this kind of position? If you suddenly developed a hard-on to be made, why join them and not your own flesh and blood? What would Mamma think?”
I shot to my feet and nearly hurled the phone into the wall. “Don’t you dare mention her. Not when the man you chose to align yourself with did nothing but make her last days a living hell.”
He fell silent. “You choose to see it that way, and I guess I understand why. You were always hiding behind her skirts. But she made her choices, Gio, as we all do. She knew what she was doing when she married our father.” That metallic clinking sounded again in the background. “As did Emilia Andretti when she hooked up with you.”
My fingers tensed around my cell. If I managed to not shatter the screen before the end of this phone call, I’d be shocked. “She didn’t hook up with me. She was to be my wife, and you damn well know it.”
“Eighteen years old, and wanting to get married.” He chuckled without mirth. “Dear Lord in heaven, I’m twenty-five and the idea still turns my stomach.”
“We never did see things the same way.”
“No, we did not. Whatever it is you’ve got up your sleeve, you won’t survive unscathed. I can only do so much. Our father, he is not so generous with his sense of justice. He doesn’t look back on his memories of you with the same fondness I do.”
“Hang on while I grab a tissue.”
“Pride goeth before a fall,” he murmured. “Second chances go even before that. If you turn back now, I will do what I can. If not…”
I remained silent, staring hard at the nightstand where my mother’s Bible rested in the top drawer. I’d faced darkness before. I was used to it. If the darkness this time was eternal, I would accept my fate with dignity.
There would be no pleas, no eleventh hour Hail Marys. I’d charted a course, and I would see it through to the end.
Emilia and my lost child deserved nothing less.
“As you wish,” he said finally, when it became obvious I had no intention of replying. “I admire your stubbornness, even if I already miss my baby brother.” He clicked off.
Anyone else would interpret what he’d said as a comment on our fractured relationship. But that wasn’t how it worked in our world. Relationship issues wouldn’t merit such talk.
He missed me already, because I was as good as dead.
I tossed my phone onto the bed, not looking where it landed. Rising, I went to my dresser and checked the top drawer. My .357 was still there, and a quick glance in the chamber reassured me that it was loaded. In all likelihood, I wouldn’t have time to get to it if and when my day came, but having it gave me a small measure of peace.
There were other guns around the apartment. One by one, I checked the places I’d tucked them. Behind the grate in the bathroom. Above the loose ceiling tile in the hallway. Under the ornate wood coffee table, an antique I’d bought for the sole reason that it would provide handy storage for my weaponry.
I was on the way to check my last handgun hiding place, the toaster oven—though that spot had been chosen due to unexpected guests, and I’d never moved it back to the cupboard—when I noticed the brightly colored fabric pinned to the door with a note.
I almost didn’t stop. I needed to ensure the gun was where I’d left it. But curiosity won out, and I took down the pieces of Carly’s thong and a large swatch of her dress. I clenched them in my fist, wondering how they could still feel warm, and pulled down the note she’d scrawled on a paper towel in her neat, looping handwriting.
Sorry, had to split early today. I’m on opening shift at the Salad Hut, which is the extreme suck. Also the extreme suck is loving your panties and your dress, and losing them to tomfoolery.
The smile took me by surprise. She had a way about her. Capable of performing miracles.
You owe me a dress and panties. I’d buy some and send you the bill, but I think I’d rather see what you’d choose for me. If you need sizes, hit me up.
Oh, and I’m dancing tomorrow night, in case you want to shadow. And rip my clothes off me again when I’m done.
The best tomfoolery happens more than once.
She signed it with a lipstick kiss. I’d nearly brought the paper to my mouth before I realized the levels I’d stooped to.
