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“My mom was supposed to marry Carmello Jr.” His eyebrows come together, trying to put this new fact into the story I’m telling. “My mother’s father was also a politician—senate. She’d seen this whole show play out once before, but her father was in deep with the Carluccios. They wanted to strengthen ties and bring the families together. Politics and the underworld can go hand in hand if you want them to. Both crave power. My mother grew up in the fold; her parents grew up in the same little town in Italy as Carmello Carluccio did.”
“But your mother married your dad?”
“My mom met him at a function for her father. A fundraiser. Just like me, she was to wear pretty dresses and smile. Win the eye of male voters, but beyond that, she was to be quiet. My dad was a councilman at the time and . . . well . . .” I shrug. “Well, I happened. There was a rushed wedding and strict instructions on how to proceed, even though she had ruined their original plan. She was to attend events, to have a proper wedding, and my father eventually got the support of my grandfather. When I was born, I was added to the voter appeal, and when I was two, my father was elected as mayor.”
“Jesus, he’s been mayor that long?”
“When you have friends in high places . . .” I say, my voice trailing off to allow him to fill in the blanks.
“Fuck,” he murmurs, and I smile a tight smile.
“He got into politics because he was made for it. But he stayed in it because no one would try anything if he were in politics. There was no threat to my father to free up my mom’s wedding finger if he was the mayor and in the spotlight. They still wanted to strengthen ties, after all.”
“Holy shit,” Ben breathes, and I just sigh.
“Eventually, he realized that politics lent a hand to his addiction. He could settle a debt or get payoffs by allowing for a permit to pass or giving special consideration to a business. Highly sought-after city contracts. That kind of thing.” I fill my lungs, fresh air not quite reaching the bottoms as I look away from Ben and scan the room. I don’t like what I think I see in Ben’s eyes. Pity? Disgust?
“My mom loved him. I can tell you that much. She told me she tried to talk him out of it in the beginning, but he wanted to give her everything. She came from money. He . . . didn’t. She said he did it for love . . .” I pause because this part I’ve never said aloud. “I think it was an excuse he told her.” I shake my head because I see it for what it was now. I used to think it was romantic, my father doing whatever it took to give her what she wanted and my mother standing by his side throughout it.
But it was toxic.
They wereterriblefor each other.
And what I’m about to confess next is a part of history that has never been shared with someone outside of our family—a secret that was told to me in confidence.
You have to protect Lilah.
I look back at Ben, not seeing that pity or disgust but interest.
“Lilah’s my half-sister.” Ben's eyes widen. “She’s Alfredo Russo’s granddaughter.”
“What—”
“My dad was deep in an election year and never home. I was four or five, but I remember that part: he was never home. My mom cried a lot. According to her, she went out, got drunk, and called an old flame. Nine months later, Lilah was here.” My voice is soft and factual as I speak.
“She doesn’t—”
“No. She doesn’t know.” I sigh again. “The Russos don’t know. If the family finds out, they’ll pull her in. They like to keep their own close. She’d probably get married off to one of the Carluccios, securing ties with the families. She’d be miserable and constantly in danger. A target. Mom didn’t want that for her.”
“Her real father?” I smile, a sickly sweet thing, because this part is speculation on my own end.
And this part requires I trust Ben with my whole being.
And for some fucked reason, I do.
“The only Russo son died, mysteriously in a drive-by months after Lilah was born.” Ben’s eyes go wide. “There’s no one to take Alfredo’s place when he dies. That’s why they’d marry off Lilah to a Carluccio. Secure the line and all.”
“Do you think your dad—”
“He knows. He knows, and he knew when he started toeing the line with them. He knew the danger of getting involved with them.”
“Fuck, Lola. So your sister is in the line of fire because both of your parents fucked up, and it became your job to keep her safe?” I shrug.
Part of me wants to argue, say that my mom isn’t fucked up, but the older I get, and the more I look at it, I can’t say he’s wrong.
Mom married Dad, knowing his issues, then acted out when those things came to fruition. And now it’s Lilah’s and my problem.
“Dad started getting in with Carluccio Disposal. Waste is strange and needs a lot of permits and approvals. Dad was able to get them. Sometimes it was to clear up debts or tabs, sometimes to earn favor. A couple of years ago, that started getting harder. More eyes, more scrutiny, and then most of it stopped. He stopped working with them. Or . . . so I thought.”
