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“She still dating that punk kid?”
He glared. “I’m gonna kill him. That’s all there is to it.”
I squeezed his shoulder. “I’ve got a good shovel.”
I glanced around the table. Three of my brothers were missing. Obviously, Joe hadn’t brought Christina, and Bobby had explained his brood’s absence, but most of the time all the wives and kids came whether my brothers were here or not.
“Where is everybody?”
“In case you hadn’t noticed, it’s getting late.” Bobby wadded up his napkin and threw it at me. “Kids gotta be in bed.”
I snorted. “Please. It’s all us old people who want to be in bed.”
“Used to be for a different reason.” He ducked when Ma set a platter of chicken cutlets in the center of the table in front of him. “Now I just want to sleep.”
I avoided sleep like it was my job. If I didn’t have the same dream every night, I’d try to do more of it. But it never failed. And the past few weeks, it had been worse.
Joe looked down at his plate.
“Sorry, man.” Bobby had the decency to look apologetic. “I didn’t think.”
“Just because I’m not having sex doesn’t mean the rest of you can’t,” he said dejectedly.
“When are you gonna bring a nice girl home for me to meet, Cal?” Ma scooped pasta onto all of our plates. Enough for three grown men.
“Yeah,Cal. When?” Aaron smirked.
It was unusual for the youngest, but I’d been named after my father at Ma's insistence. Pop was a humble guy. To him, having a son named after him was a big deal. He'd called me Cal from the second I was born and so did everyone else. I was proud I’d gotten my pop's name, even though I'd never live up to it.
I scratched my temple with my middle finger at my brother. “The only nice girl left is you, Ma.”
Dinner rolls flew at my head from all directions.
“Boys!” She chided us but loved that we still acted like kids. If we were around her table, she was happy. “You can bring her to Sunday lunch.”
I pushed the pasta around my plate. “I can’t come. I gotta work.”
She dropped her fork. “All any of you do is work. You’re just like your father.”
“Sorry, Ma. Tony asked me to switch shifts so he could go to his son’s ball game.”
She patted my hand. “You’re a good boy, Cal.”
Eyes rolled all around the table.
“Suck up,” Bobby muttered under his breath.
“Did you say something, Robert?”
He cleared his throat. “That this is delicious. Don’t tell Michelle, but she can’t cook like you.”
Ma beamed. “I won’t mention it. And it’s my job to take care of you boys.”
“Can I get some leftovers for Vigiano? He was jealous when I told him I was coming over for dinner.”
Her round face grew brighter. “I’ll make John a plate. You should’ve brought him. It’s been a while.”
I couldn’t. Because some of the excuses I’d used to get out of hanging with him were family dinners I hadn’t gone to. I didn’t need him coming around and mentioning that.
