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I thought it did too. Even with a tux.
Not today, though.
The black suit my uncle had brought up a few hours ago fits me as perfectly as something this expensive should. The gold cufflinks with theSengraving glint in the low light provided by the chandelier.
It’s been a long time since I’ve dressed in anything other than a T-shirt, jeans, and black combat boots. Not since that day when I did it for my brother.
Now here I am again. But it’s not a tux. No. It’s something much worse.
In an impulsive move, I rush into my bathroom in search of scissors, a razor, anything to cut my hair the way he asked me to all those years ago. But all I find are empty drawers, because I haven’t fully moved back yet.
“Fuck!” I grab the toothpaste, one of my few belongings that’s already here, and toss it against the mirror.
For several minutes, I remain like that, breathing hard, staring at the minty paste splattered over my reflection. Hating that I can still see myself.
“It suits you.” His words are a faint echo in my mind that settles me. Yet the ache of knowing I’ll never be able to ask him if he meant it lingers.
After I’ve calmed enough, I head downstairs to wait for my sister and numb some of the pain with a full glass of whiskey. But when I enter the study, I find a large man in a black suit standing by the window. The bulge on the side of his coat tells me he’s carrying a weapon beneath it.
“May I help you?”
He turns at the sound of my voice, and I let out a sigh of relief when I see who it is. We take a few steps toward each other and embrace in the way good friends do, with a quick slap on the back.
“Fuck, Gunn. I didn’t recognize you in this shit.” I pluck the fabric of his sleeve.
“I could say the same about you,” he says. “Besides, I wasn’t going to show up to your brother’s funeral in jeans and a T-shirt.”
My throat constricts, and I nod, suddenly finding it hard to speak. “Thank you for coming.”
“Of course, man. You’re my family.” He places his hand on my shoulder and squeezes. “More of the boys wanted to come, but we all figured your uncle wouldn’t be too pleased. We know how he feels about us. Last thing we need is to take on the Sinacores.”
Yes, Uncle Ray has made it perfectly clear that the boys are unwelcome. He calls them low-life street thieves. Though that couldn’t be further from the truth. Based on some of the numbers I’ve seen, my little “gang” brings in more money than the Sinacore business did. In fact, I think the legitimate real estate investments were what Tony used to keep the family afloat.
“He was weak,”my uncle said.
Tony wasn’t weak, but he did have a weakness. The Sinacore legacy is strongly entwined with criminal activity, and Tony was a rule follower.
“Uncle Ray wants me to run the family,” I tell the man who’s been by my side since we were teens.
Once, when I was just a kid, I stole a porn DVD from Troy’s Video Store. Gunn Sinclair lived in a foster home down the street from there and took the blame, even though he didn’t know me. Got him a ticket back to the orphanage.
“You look like you got more to lose,” he whispered as he was escorted out.
It obviously wasn’t true. But I don’t regret it, because what I gained was a friend I trust above anyone else.
Gunn frowns as he processes what I’ve said. “If you run the family, what will you do about our business?”
“I don’t—”
“Luca?”
I’m cut off by my sister at the door.
She’s dressed in head-to-toe black, and her expression is just as dark. “I’m ready.”
Turning to Gunn, I nod, not needing to say a word, because I know he hears me anyway.We’ll finish this conversation later.
* * *
