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Cohen
When I pull up to the estate in the middle of nowhere, Uncle Albert is kissing Mom and Dad on both cheeks on the sprawling front steps.
It took me over an hour to drive from the city. I’m surprised Noble and Dad went with a place so remote when Noble owns plenty of places in Manhattan that can accommodate events. I suppose it’s adding to the mystique of the masquerade theme. I grab my metallic silver mask from the passenger seat and climb out.
A valet springs forward and whistles at my sports car.
“Evening, sir,” the kid says.
Nodding, I toss the key fob to him and cross the gravel drive to meet my parents and uncle.
“Cohen!” Mom trills, holding her hands out to me.
“You look like a firecracker in that getup,” Uncle Albert says.
“It’s fashion, Uncle Al.” I smooth a hand over my red velvet lapel and shoot a finger gun at him.
He chuckles and mutters in Italian to my dad, who snorts and responds in kind. Mom swats at them.
“He wants to look nice, so let him. You did the same thing when you were his age to get my attention,” Mom reminds my dad. She belts out a laugh when Dad tries to play it off. “Let’s go in.”
Mom tucks her arm in the crook of Uncle Albert’s elbow and I follow alongside Dad as we enter the estate, one of Victor Noble’s property holdings. I admire the intricate details in the old architecture while my parents get swept into greeting a few higher up guys in the organization. I continue through, following the echoes of the live band playing a jazzy holiday number.
The main ballroom is impressive and huge. Serving staff weave through the guests with towering trays of champagne. I snag one and survey the other party guests. A few wave to me and I nod back. After I slide my silver mask into place, I find Mario leaning against a marble column near one bar wearing a mask with a beak-like nose pointing out of it.
“Your little wifey show up yet?” Mario asks, bumping his fist against mine. Instead of champagne, he’s cradling a whiskey.
“Haven’t seen her yet.”
“She won’t be able to miss you.” Mario looks me up and down and tries to muffle his snickers. “You look like some whack ass devil.”
“It’s dapper,” I scoff.
“Dapper—what are you, sixty?”
“Shut up, asshole.”
I know I look good in the bold red velvet tuxedo. I’m eager to see how Annie reacts to it.
We watch the guests for a while. It’s still early.
“I’m going out for a smoke. Come find me when your girl gets here.” Mario claps me on the shoulder.
“Why?”
“Gino’s out on a job and I promised him I’d take a picture of her fine ass.”
I bite back the growl that threatens to erupt from me, balling my fist at my side. I could knock out another one of his teeth like I did last year when we got in a fight. The implant is well done, so I can’t tell which one is the fake, but I’ll punch him until there are no teeth left if he says any more shit about Annie.
“Her fine ass is all mine,” I say in a warning tone. He inclines his head. “And if you and Gino know what's good, you’ll leave her to me. I don’t fucking share.”
Mario shrugs and lifts a palm in surrender. “Just yanking your dick, man. If you’re getting married, it means more pussy for me.”
“Whatever. You have to flash green to get a chick to put out for you.” My mouth slants in a mean grin. “It’s the only way they can live with themselves looking at your sorry face with your cock in their mouth.”
A shadow crosses Mario’s face. “At least my dick gets sucked. Last I heard you haven’t banged any of the girls that hang off your arm. And from what Gino tells me, your little bitch doesn’t put out.”
“Keep going,” I say in a cold voice, grabbing hold of his collar. Mario’s jaw clenches and his attention drops to my fist. “I’ll take you out back and straighten you out.” I jerk his body. “Do not talk about this. And let Gino know the next time I see him? He better fucking run.”
