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As I drove the short distance to the clubhouse, I heard Ma Veneti sniff loudly. “Lorenzo, these leather seats smell dreadful. If you had a proper car, then it wouldn’t have this smell.”
“All leather smells the same,” I gritted out, attempting to suppress my irritation with the woman.
I watched in the rearview mirror as she crossed her arms over her chest. “Caddies don’t smell bad like your car,” she retorted.
I opened my mouth to argue but then clamped my lips shut, realizing that it was impossible to have a rational discussion with a lunatic.
When we arrived at the white-stucco clubhouse, we went inside, and Ma Veneti led us to our table in the middle of the room.
One half of the table was filled with Napoleone and other Veneti family members who were all wearing...sombreros? While the other half of the table was empty, obviously left for my side of the family.
We took our seats. Anni was by my side, and I looked at her, wondering what the hats were about; however, she was too busy putting on her own sombrero to notice my questioning looks.
I glared at Mr. and Mrs. Veneti. Those fucks hadn’t said anything about having to wear goddamn sombreros tonight.
“Anni,” I barked.
“Hmm?” she replied absently.
“What’s with the hats?”
“Papà thought it would be nice to have our engagement coincide with the country club’s monthly Mexican night.”
“You have monthly Mexican nights?” I couldn’t help my incredulous tone as I looked around at the clubhouse which was strewn with brightly colored papel picado.
“Yes. Papà loves Mexico.”
Just then, my side of the family arrived. The Marchianos consulted the seating plan and then took their seats around tables across the clubhouse. I was joined at my table by various members of my family, including Marco, my mother, and my brother, Aloysius. Aloysius was a Captain in the Fratellanza; as well as being my brother, he was my right-hand man, and I could trust him with anything.
Next to Anni sat her parents, her two brothers, and her cousin, Benny.
The seating plan put equal numbers of people from the two families at each table. But with the Mexican hats all on one side, and all the empty heads on the other side of the table, the stark contrast made it impossible to claim ignorance that our families didn't really like one another.
I couldn’t help but notice Anni’s papà giving me a strange look when he realized that none of the Marchianos were donning the provided hats. I looked across at Marco, who looked as pissed as I was feeling.
“Anni, has your papà ever been to Mexico?” I asked carefully.
At that moment, a band struck up with lively Mexican music. “No. We can’t go there on holiday obviously—you know, because of the Cartels and stuff.”
So, Napoleone Veneti supposedly loved all things Mexican, even though he had never actually visited the fucking place. And he looked at my family like we were the crazy ones?
“When will you leave for your honeymoon in Italy?” Ma Veneti asked me, interrupting my thoughts.
“There’s no time for a honeymoon.”
“But our family always honeymoons in Italy,” exclaimed my future mother-in-law.
“I’m too busy with the business,” I replied in a curt tone.
Ma Veneti started bawling—extremely loudly.
I looked in horror toward her, wondering what I’d done to make her so distraught. My eyes flicked across to Anni, but she appeared unperturbed by her mother’s behavior. “Anni?” I asked, wondering if she knew what was wrong.
“Ma wants us to go to Italy in a private jet so that we can bring her back morecredenze,” she responded casually, paying little attention to her mother. I racked my brain, finally remembering that this Italian word meant ‘sideboards’.
She was crying about…sideboards?
I remembered when I was in the Veneti drawing room earlier, waiting for Anni. I had passed the time by counting the eleven sideboards in the room, their sheer number and large size giving the room a claustrophobic feel.
