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The priest stood behind the pulpit at the front of the church. He looked solemn as he opened his Bible and started speaking.
“There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens. A time to be born and a time to die, a time to plant and a time to uproot, a time to kill and a time to heal, a time to tear down and a time to build, a time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to mourn and a time to dance. Ecclesiastes 3:1-4.” He looked around at the packed church and continued. “We are gathered here today to mourn the loss of our son and brother, Jimmy Salvatori. For those of us who knew Jimmy…”
His voice continued, but my thoughts trailed off. I was happy that so many people had shown up. The entire first two rows were full of women dressed in black, sobbing their eyes out, each one of them having loved Jimmy in their own way. I knew wherever he was, he was smiling down at that. I tried not to think about his last days, his last hour. I tried not to think about the dreams that he’d had, how he had always wanted to get married and have kids, about how I’d be the uncle. There would be no little Jimmys. I clutched the Bible in my hand tightly, and I felt Alessandro’s hand on my shoulder.
“This is a new beginning, Antonio,” he said, giving me a side-eye. I looked over at him and nodded. “Gia’s here,” he said, nodding toward the back row.
“I know,” I said. She was joined by Elisabetta and Callie. I’d noticed them as soon as they’d come in; my eyes never leaving Callie. We’d stared at each other for a couple of minutes. They’d seemed like hours. I’d wanted to rush over to her, hug her, kiss her, thank her for coming, and ask her to stand by my side and comfort me. But I knew I had to give her her space. Aside from one little text message, she hadn’t responded to anything I’d sent. She hadn’t picked up any calls. My heart was broken, but I understood. The priest continued reading another verse, and I tried to focus, but couldn’t. I was angry. I was angry at myself; I was angry at God. I was angry for being born into a world that made me who I was. Jimmy had had no shot. I’d had no shot. Alessandro had no shot. We were all doomed. Doomed to live hell on earth and die without love and—
“Bro,” Alessandro said, “you okay?”
“I’m fine,” I muttered. “Why?”
“Because you were cursing up a storm under your breath just now.”
“I’m just trying to process, you know?” I looked back and stared at Callie. She was looking down at her lap and crying. She was too sweet for this world, too caring, too hard on herself.
“Let her go, Antonio,” Alessandro said. “Just let her go.”
“I can’t,” I said. “Jimmy wouldn’t want me to.”
“What?” He blinked at me and sighed.
“Jimmy died protecting her, and he did that because he knew I loved her.”
“But you’ve done too much to her. How can you ever come back from that?” He looked back, and at first, I thought he was staring at Callie, but he was looking at Gia.
“How do you come back from breaking someone’s heart and betraying them?” he said.
“You broke Gia’s heart?” I said under my breath. “I didn’t even know you two were in love.” He let out a deep, guttural sound and turned back to me.
“We weren’t in love like that, but we were best friends. We were everything to each other.”
“So what happened, Antonio?” I asked him softly. “You ever going to tell me?”
“Maybe one day,” he said, nodding. “But today’s not that day.”
“Why do I feel like that’s all I keep hearing right now?” I asked. I was about to ask him something else when I realized everyone was singing “Amazing Grace.” I joined in, even though I couldn’t sing for shit. I wanted to honor Jimmy. I wanted to give him the best sendoff that he could have.
“He would’ve liked this, you know?” Alessandro said, looking around. “People crying for him, singing. Just being here for him.”
“I know,” I said, nodding. “He was a good guy.”
“He was our brother,” Alessandro said. “We lost a good one.”
“We did.” I nodded, staring at him. “So where do we go from here?”
“What do you mean?” He asked, a wariness in his eyes that I felt. There was a new shift in power and while we’d waited our entire lives for this moment, it seemed to be too sudden.
“I’m the new Don, Alessandro. Don Antonio Marchesi, head of the Marchesi familigia. Where do we go from here?”
“Now’s not the day for us to talk about it.” He shook his head.
“You’re my underboss now, you know that, right?”
“Yippee,” he said. “Who’s going to be consigliere?”
“That we have to figure out. We can’t have another Tommasso Romano on our hands.”
