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“Not even a little,” I say, locking eyes with my husband as I do. He lets a little of that smile break through at the edges of his lips.
“Well, I think it’s a great idea,” Vinnie, the other Capo of Carmine’s, says. “Liza meant a lot to this family, and her loss should be remembered. A community day. Shit for kids, food, music, games.”
“That’s a wonderful idea. Delilah and I can work together to plan it,” Teresa says, and when I look at her, she’s smiling but it’s mischievous.
Like she knows.
Or maybe like she’s proud?
“This is stupid,” Paulie says.
“Why is that?” I ask, looking at him with exasperation.
“We’re not here to make the community love us. We’re here to make money, Lilah. That’s why women shouldn’t be here. All of you are too fuckin’ soft about shit.”
I want to tell him off.
I want to throw something in his face.
Instead, I give him a smile.
It’s not a kind smile, but the type you give a child who is having a temper tantrum.
“Do you think there’s a way to do both, Paulie?” I ask the question as though he’s a child that I need to reason with by getting on his level. Vinnie scoffs out a laugh and I look over to him, throwing a wink his way. He smiles.
This might be easier than I thought, winning over these men.
“I know it’s probably hard for you to understand, what with your head so fucking far up your ass, but getting involved in the community, giving back—it build ties. Connections. It builds trust. So if something does go south, we’re less likely to be questioned. Or people are less likely to believe it.”
“This isn’t a PR campaign.”
“Why not?” I ask, looking over at Jason who has been watching me skeptically the whole time. “The world is changing. RICO acts and social media. Cameras in everyone’s hand ready to make whatever they spot go viral. We need to be focusing on the PR of this family. We need to take how the public sees us seriously.”
I have everyone’s attention now.
“Right now, the city thinks of you all as thugs. Dangerous men who are stealing from the poor to make themselves rich. They’d love to see each and every one of you locked up, to make themselves feel safer by removing the connection between their city and the Carluccio family. You need to rewrite the narrative. Take it back. Become the family they root for because when we succeed, the city succeeds.”
Paulie looks exhausted and bored with me.
Dante looks proud.
The men look a mix of intrigued and impressed.
“I grew up as Shane Turner’s daughter. Knew no other life than making sure his image was clean. Every gala I went to, I smiled, became the pretty girl next door. I was trained to win the city of Ocean View over, to win the voters. And look at him. A piece of shit, but he’s fuckin’ beloved in that town. It’s why when there are whispers about who he is, they don’t stick. No one thinks it could happen, and if they do, they think that it’s okay because he’s bettering the town they live in while he works his shady shit. He promotes what he’s done well—reducing property taxes, bettering the school systems—because he knows how to play the game. The new game, where an opinion is a google away. You guys?” I look around. “Sorry to say, you just don’t.”
I’m done with my speech and look around, taking in the faces.
Silence takes over the table for a full minute.
I’d be lying if I said it didn’t make me nervous.
“She’s right, you know,” Silvero says. His face says he’s not happy about admitting it, though. “Back when Liza was around, when Anthony was in charge, I could walk into Trattoria and everyone smiled at me. Got a table instantly. Now, it’s . . . different. I still get my table, still get served, but no one wants to stop and talk.” Men around the table nod in agreement.
“The city is scared of us.”
“What a bunch of pussies you’re all being,” Paulie says, throwing his hands in the air. “Who the fuck cares?”
“I do,” Vinnie says, and the room settles.
