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“So let me take a goddamn turn,” Kev snarled.
Con spoke up, from his perch at the end of the long bar. “Glad to see you still have it in you, bro.”
Kev turned to his brother. “What the fuck does that mean?”
Connor took a meditative sip of his coffee. “A little emotional affect,” he said, finally. “It’s a good thing. Haven’t seen a whole lot of that out of you. Like Bruno says. You’re always…super calm.”
“And that’s a problem?” Kev demanded.
“No way,” Sean piped up, his voice as flat as Connor’s. “No problem. Just a random observation.”
Kev stared wildly from one brother to another. “What the fuck? What is this? What do you guys want from me?”
“Niente. Non e’ niente.” Zia Rosa bustled into the middle of the room and barreled into Kev’s big body. She gave him a bear hug.
He hugged her back, fiercely. “Ciao,Zia.”
“You two are just tired, that’s all,” Zia Rosa said. “And hungry. Sit down.” She shooed them over to the far end of the long table, as far from Lily and Bruno as possible. “I got food, lotsa food. Ah, honey, lemme take a look at you.” She grabbed Edie’s chin, pinched her cheek. “You’re fatter,” she said, approvingly. She stared into Edie’s eyes, clucking her tongue. “You got that look, honey. The eyes, with those dark shadows? Eh? You losin’ your breakfast?”
Edie shook her head, smiling. “No, Zia. I was just on a series of airplanes for the last thirty-six hours,” she said. “My stomach’s fine.”
“Hmmph. We’ll just see.” Zia Rosa bustled off to procure food, clearly eager to test that hypothesis personally.
Bruno shepherded Lily back to her seat, and sat her down, snagging a piece of toast to gnaw on, just to have something to do with his hands. Kev shot him a telling look from his end of the table. A look that said,I’m not through with you yet.Lily took a bite of her omelet, staring as Zia Rosa built two plates up to staggering proportions.
“So, the baby thing,” she said. “It’s just her schtick?”
“One-trick pony,” Bruno said. “Never fails.”
She gave him a look that made his heart skip and hiccup. “She gets a spectacular reaction when she teases you. Who could resist?”
Bruno decided to shrug that off. “She’s hell on wheels.”
Her hand seized his. “It’s just a Ranieri thing,” she said. “That hell on wheels thing. Must be genetic.”
They stared at each other. The energy between them felt like physical pressure. Lily tore her gaze away. “Your brother’s no joke, either,” she commented, her voice sharpening. “Wow, what a charmer.”
“I swear to God, he’s never like that,” Bruno protested. “He must have taken up smoking meth, or something. He’s always been so mellow.”
“Would you fix my locket?” A small hand grabbed his sleeve and tugged, and he looked down into Rachel’s beseeching eyes. “It broke!”
Bruno turned his attention to Rachel’s dilemma. It was simple, to fit the two pieces of plastic back together, and apply pressure until the joint hinge popped back into place. “Good as new.” He handed it to her.
She draped the chain around her neck, and turned, holding up the clasps. “Would you close it for me?” she asked, conscious of the honor she was doing him.
Bruno fitted the clasp together, and got a blinding smile for his trouble. Rachel was beautiful, yet he had a heavy feeling in his gut. Something about the necklace, her slender neck…he couldn’t put his finger on the feeling, and wasn’t sure if he wanted to. It wasn’t good.
An old memory, heaving up out of the depths. The bulk of it still hanging below the surface, like one of those deadly icebergs that brought down the Titanic. Aw, fuck it. He’d have the belly-ache anyway, might as well dredge up the memory that went with it. At least then he’d have a scrap of data, not just nausea. Sort of. Memory was so damn malleable and tricky. It couldn’t be trusted.
He sank into himself, and followed the feeling back to its source. The pendant, the clasp, Rachel’s neck. That day that Mamma gave him her necklace. There, that was it. That was the source of the ache.
It was the same day she’d put him on that Greyhound bus bound for Portland. It had been late at night, and they’d been riding in a taxi all over town. He remembered watching the meter creep up. Wondering why she was burning money, like they had any to spare. Mamma kept looking behind them, like they were being followed, but they weren’t. No headlights on those wet streets. Just pools of streetlight.
At the bus station, she’d bought a ticket and hustled him to the gate before he knew what she’d planned, before he could put up a proper fight. She gave him the lecture, said her piece, about how she was leaving Rudy, that she’d get away, she swore to God, but he had to be good, she had to know he was safe first. She still had things to do.
What?He’d asked, blubbering so hard the snot ran down his face.What the fuck do you still have to do here? Why not just come?
Watch that language, punk,she scolded, herding him towards the entrance of the bus. Then she’d unclasped her necklace, the antique pendant that she never took off. She put it around his neck. It was warm, from her body heat.Keep this safe for me,she said, and hugged him from behind until he thought his ribs would crack. The bus driver said something snotty about hurrying up. Mamma mouthed off to him, but without her usual spark. Then she shoved him up the steps,go, go, quick, quick!into the sweetish, stale stink of the bus. Row after row of strangers’ grotesque faces peering up, full of hostility, indifference.
