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The swelling applause is all the validation either of us needs. When I finally focus on the audience, I find Gennero staring right at me. His eyes bore into my very soul, making my next breath disappear. It seems to take an eternity before Alik joins us on the stage, bowing and accepting his own applause.
In a daze, I descend the steps and head for my grandfather, barely aware that Lucy has not followed me through the crowd.
“Did we make you proud?” I ask, staring up at his blue eyes, the creases around them seeming deeper than even yesterday, like he’s worried about something. I tilt my body to thrust out my breasts a little, using all I’ve got.
He grunts. “You were—”
“Mr. Sabato.” Alik is there before he finishes, wedging himself between me and Papa, who he embraces like they’re old friends. “This year’s party is magnificent, and your granddaughters…” He glances at me for just the briefest moment, a slight frown tugging his barely-there lips downward. “Simply beautiful. Graceful, intelligent. You are pleased with what I’ve done with them?”
“Very pleased.” Gennero extricates himself from the hug, as tension locks his jaw, accentuating the tendons in his neck snapping his tongue along his perfect white teeth. “I have other business to attend to.”
“You’re not staying?” I ask. My heart is desperate to be with him, here in front of everyone.
“I’ll be back. Other people want to congratulate you on the performance.” Gennero glances at the humming crowd, a low growl rumbling from his throat. “You and your sister should go take a shower and a sauna, then to bed. I will make sure the guests get settled in their rooms as usual or off on their way home. Now, go.”
Disappointment seeps out of me at his impersonal dismissal.
“No buts.” He brushes his fingers down my arm, making me shiver, then draws them away as though I’ve hurt him. “Do as you are told. You will need your rest.”
“This is exactly what I always tell her,” Alik says with a note of triumph. “She needs to learn to listen and obey.”
If he thinks Papa is going to side with him, he’s mistaken.
Gennero’s fist is wrapped around Alik’s throat before he takes another self-satisfied breath, his eyes bulging, trying to back away as Papa’s strong hand holds him in place. “Listen, you little shit. She does as I say, not as you say. I keep you here because you’re good at your job, but if I think for one second—”
Before he can finish, there’s a shout from the entrance and a deafening gunshot. Guests duck and scream and step back from the oncoming intruder. “Out of my fucking way!Sabato!Get out here, Sabato, I know you’re here.”
“That fucking old bastard.” Gennero drops Alik, turning toward the chaos.
The wave of onlookers moves back, parting to let our old neighbor Mort McAllister, Reindeer Hater, come through.
“We’re having a party here.” Gennero’s voice is flat and calm, but that’s when you should worry. “And you just put a hole in my roof.” He points toward the ceiling.
Mort steps forward, eyes red and puffy. His cheeks are crimson, and there’s a wobble in his steps. “Yearly Christmas party for all the outsiders. Wish you’d all go back where you came from!” He yells at the room as Gennero’s hand reaches for his loosely held shotgun.
“Yes, and you weren’t fucking invited.” He says as several of the larger men in the crowd turn at attention ready to back up Papa.
Mort growls, baring his teeth. “Gimme back my gun,” he hisses, but Papa holds it at his side, unmoving, his face a frozen mask of calm. “How the hell your fucking reindeer get poop on my roof, Sabato? What do they do now, fly?”
Papa rolls his eyes. “Our reindeer haven’t been anywhere near your roof.”
“Well, it ain’t no wild deer out around here. I know wild deer shit and it don’t look like that. Bad enough the rest of the year they get out and come crap all over everywhere else on my land, now they shittin’ on my roof! You got people collecting it and flinging it up there just to piss me off?”
“I’m surprised he can tell wild reindeer shit from bourbon,” Lucy whispers in my ear, appearing out of nowhere with flushed cheeks. “Let’s get out of here before Grandpa puts Mort’s head into the punchbowl. Or worse.”
I hesitate, watching Gennero poke his finger into Mort’s chest. I don’t want to leave, but I hate confrontation. I hate violence, even when Mort’s insulting my reindeer.
With a nod, I turn and follow Lucy, ignoring Mort’s continued rant as we slip out, grab our bags, and head down the hall, through the ballroom and into the main house.
“Where did you go?” I ask.
The full moon reflects over the lake and casts a red glow across the horizon behind the mountains as we walk by the wall of windows in the great room off the kitchen.
Lucy doesn’t answer for a moment, then she says, “When?”
“After the performance. You disappeared.”
“Oh, just got pulled away by some adoring fans. Iwasthe star of the show.”
