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“You do, you look good.” Cristiano pulls a flask out of his pocket and takes a long swig.
I don’t return the compliment. It’s rare that any human resembling a pit bull shines up nice. “You’d better be fucking sober for this,” I tell him.
“I am. Jesus, relax, will ya? Of course I’m sober.” He stifles a belch. I roll my eyes as the door opens and my mother enters.
“Why did you move up the wedding?”
“Because I want to.” I owe her no explanation. I want this over with so I can move on to bigger and better things. “It’s not like people have had fuckin’save the datepostcards on their fridges. They can either make it, or not.” I’ve already checked that Romeo Rossi could get here in time. It matters that he’s here to witness our vows. It matters that word gets out that I’m married and to whom.
“She’s insane, son,” my mother hisses out. “You picked a goddamninsane womanto marry, did you? Of all the—”
But I’ve already heard enough. I slap my palm up into the air to signal for her tostop.Her gripe with the Rossis isn’t mine.
“Your opinion isn’t welcome here. I’m marrying her for reasons I have no interest in sharing with you. But soon,” I glance at my watch, “in ten minutes, to be exact, we will take our vows to each other. And you will not, under any circumstance, say anything against my wife. Am I clear?”
As of last week, I should’ve been the acting Don of the Capo family. As of today, I am.
She’ll defer to my authority whether she likes it or not. It isn’t my fault she hasn’t accepted our roles yet, but she will. I know exactly how she behaves, and she won’t pull her bullshit on me.
I watch as the color drains from her face and she pulls one of her lips into her mouth. I don’t feel bad for her. It might be impossible for anyone to feel sympathy for a woman who punished me, her only son, when I was eight years old by putting my favorite dog down and pulling me out of bed so I could watch one of my uncles bleed out on the kitchen floor.
“This is your life, Salvatore,” she said. “Watch.”
The dog incident was because I “should’ve known” enough to tattle on my uncle when he knocked up our housekeeper.
Fun times.
Many take it for granted that an acting Don is a brutal sadist. I’m not sure I’ve ever met one that isn’t. His wife, however, is a crap shoot. “Salvatore,” she whispers, her fingers at her neck. “You can’t—you don’t mean—”
It’s rare to see my mother at a loss for words.
“Can’t what? Pull rank? I can. I don’t mean what? To forbid you to disrespect my wife? I can and will.”
“What do you see in her?” she demands, her eyes narrowed like a raptor’s. “She’s got wide hips, vapid eyes, and—”
Then I realize what I should’ve realized the minute she came in here. I turn my gaze to my mother and advance on her.
“Did you go to see her? Without my permission?” I’ve learned to keep my anger simmering just below the surface. I’ve seen men like my uncle be incapable of keeping their tempers under control and decided long ago that a man in control of his temper was a much better leader than one who wasn’t. No one respects a man who flies off the goddamn handle.
My mother’s eyes widen.
“I brought her breakfast. The breakfast you made!”
“The breakfast I instructed my staff to bring her with my permission,” I correct. My mother backpedals until she sits in a chair.
“I wanted to see her.”
“You wanted your way.”
She opens her mouth as if to say something, then slams it shut with a sigh.
“I don’t know why you picked this woman. Have you ever evenheardofearthing?”
I shake my head. “No. What does that have to do with anything?”
“She said she likes toearthevery day. Like take her shoes off and become one with nature.” She wrinkles her nose in disgust. “She’s insane!”
I want to slap her. I keep my hands in fists by my sides.
