Endings & Beginnings (New Mafia Trilogy #3) (5 page)

The next night was the bachelorette party and
pre-gaming started over tapas and drinks at a restaurant on Chestnut Street.
Then a party bus picked us up, minus the moms and aunts, and we headed down to Carnal.
Cici marched right up to the door where the manager and her latest fling, Thomas,
met our group. He escorted us inside the dark club. Carnal wasn’t like a
typical strip joint and it catered to all tastes. The building itself was four
stories and each level offered something different. For example, the first
floor was set up like a standard gentleman’s club with dancers and waitresses
wearing practically nothing. The second floor was LGBT friendly and the third floor,
where we were going, had the male strippers. The top floor was where Carnal’s
offices were located. It was the basement that set this establishment apart
from others. While not exactly a sex club, the “dungeon” is where darker tastes
of the BDSM variety were catered to and for a membership fee. A separate
entrance for the dungeon allowed privacy. When I worked at Crimson, rumors were
going around that several high profile city officials had memberships.

We took the elevator to the third floor and most of
us stared out of the glass wall, catching glimpses of activity from each level
we passed. I was expecting the third floor to be busy and hadn’t realized that
Cici had arranged for us to have private access. Thomas handed us off to a
shirtless host who had chiseled everything. He was shaved, spray tanned and
oiled up to accentuate every muscle. Not a look I preferred, but several of the
woman in our group were close to drooling. Brent, our host, led us to the area
directly in front of the stage where several tables were set up. Each had an
ice bucket cooling bottles of champagne and a bottle of sparkling cider in
front of the seat designated for Miranda. As soon as we were all seated,
another shirtless guy, equally as shiny as Brent, came around to take drink
orders. Cici ordered a round of tequila shots and my stomach fluttered with excitement.
Tequila was my weakness and the one thing that helped me loosen up in a new
environment. I had partied with some of the girls before, like Cici, Allegra, and
Miranda. Andrea and Krystal were also here and we hung out a few times when I
worked at Crimson.

While we waited for our shots, Cici presented
Miranda with her bride-to-be tee shirt and a sash along with a tiara. Miranda
laughed and quickly put on her gear. She was glowing even more and hadn’t
stopped smiling since the evening started. Next, Cici presented Miranda with a
bachelorette task list. Miranda started reading it, chuckling at some of the
items. The bridal party had contributed to this, sending Cici our ideas weeks
in advance. We all knew when she got to number ten on the list because she
frowned as we predicted.

   “I am not kissing another guy. That’s technically
cheating,” she said, glaring at her best friend. Cici was ready with her
response, though. She flipped her blonde hair over her shoulder.

   “We weren’t specific about where you kiss him - could
be on the cheek. Whose mind is in the gutter now?” she teased. “However, it’s
your last night as a free woman and you should make it count. What happens here
stays here, right ladies?”

We all agreed and raised our champagne flutes in a
toast just as Craven, our server, returned with a tray laden down with tequila
shots.

   “Alright, I might as well get number one and ten
out of the way then,” Miranda announced and we whooped in approval. “Craven,
can you bring me back a can of whipped cream?” Number ten was kissing another
man and number one was intended to be an ice breaker: she had to lick whipped
cream off of one of the strippers.

Craven didn’t seem at all phased by the request and
with another order of shots ordered by Cici, he left. When he returned, Miranda
whispered in his ear. With a raised eyebrow he nodded and stood up, moving
closer to the bride-to-be. The music grew louder and lights around us dimmed as
the stage lighting grew brighter. We weren’t interested in the show about ready
to begin on stage though as Miranda’s hands gripped Craven’s hips. He wore
black leather pants that hung low. She positioned him so he was facing her then
she grabbed the can of whipped cream and shook it slowly, emulating that she
was jacking someone off. Craven was under her spell and he licked his lips in
anticipation. Miranda tilted his head then sprayed whipped cream on his neck,
just one dollop. Once again holding his hips, Miranda leaned forward. We all
watched; fascinated at the control she had over this guy. I noticed he was
getting aroused, his leather pants unable to hide his erection. She reached his
neck and licked with slow deliberate laps of her tongue, not leaving a trace of
whipped cream behind. When she was done, she smacked her lips and glanced up at
him. I thought she really was going to kiss him on the mouth and felt slightly
uncomfortable for I agreed with Miranda and thought it was considered cheating
too. Instead she gently kissed his neck, right where the whipped cream had been,
making Craven groan. Then she sat down and took a sip of her sparkling cider,
her eyes twinkling with amusement as our server made an awkward exit.

We cheered and applauded Miranda before downing our
shots of tequila. My body was beginning to feel warm and fuzzy, the blanket of
warmth from alcohol loosening my muscles. The music started thumping and a
dancer appeared on stage. He was going for the cowboy look and was wearing skin
tight Wranglers, cowboy boots and a hat. His hairless chest gleamed under the
stage lights and I wondered if he waxed or shaved for it was ridiculously smooth.
He started grinding and working the stage. Allegra, Andrea, Krystal and Cici
were front and center with handfuls of dollar bills.

   “Natalie, get your ass up here!” Cici said and
yanked me out of the chair. The stripper kicked off his boots and slowly undid
the giant belt buckle, pulling his belt free. Not that he needed it on to keep
his jeans from slipping off; they were so tight and not going anywhere. He ran
the belt between his legs and did a few pelvic thrusts. I though Krystal was
going to hyperventilate or spontaneously combust. With surprising ease, the
jeans came off next until the muscled and tattooed stripper was wearing just a
black thong and his cowboy hat. He moved closer to the edge of the stage and
dropped to his knees in front of us. Krystal screamed and shoved a whole
handful of bills in his thong. She lingered a little longer than appropriate
and the stripper gave her a knowing grin followed by a wink before he
extricated her hand.

It only unraveled from there. The more we drank, the
friendlier the strippers became. After his performance, the cowboy, who we found
out went by Tex, sat down at our table welcoming Krystal to sit on his lap. The
petite brunette didn’t hesitate. Miranda was brought up onstage to cross item
number two off of her list. She had a lap dance from not just one, but two
strippers. She really got into it and I couldn’t help but laugh when she
grabbed onto the tan ass cheeks of the dancer who started out in a tuxedo and
was left wearing a white thong and black bow tie.

Drinks flowed and we were surrounded by almost naked
men, but none of them compared to Dominic and I was hornier than ever. Not
using better judgment, I drunk texted him.

           
Me: I miss you

            Dom: I miss u too. R U
behaving tonight?

            Me: Maybe. You?

            Dom: I’d rather be with you

Fuck. I wanted to be with him too and was tempted to
go to him, have him take me back to his place. My fingers hovered over the
keyboard on my phone. Fortunately, Cici chose that moment to call the bridal
party around for us to give Miranda the present we all chipped in together for.
Turning my phone off, I slipped it into my bag where I ignored it for the rest
of the night.

Traditionally, it was the groom’s parents
responsibility to plan and pay for the rehearsal dinner. Grant was ready to
step up and foot the bill, but apparently Dominic’s Uncle Franco and Aunt
Gloria balked at the idea and offered to host the dinner at their restaurant at
no cost. Aunt Gloria refused to take no for an answer. Grant told me she even
shook a spatula at him when he tried to turn her down. He wisely acquiesced.

Before we could even get to the dinner, we had to go
through the actual rehearsal first. Even though my mom had her car, we took a
cab from our hotel to the church to avoid parking issues. We were quiet on the
ride over. I had a lingering hangover from the bachelorette party the night
before and was nervous about being around everyone and seeing Dominic again,
especially after my drunk-texting. My mom was busy staring out the cab window
at the neighborhoods we drove through. Since it was a beautiful spring day,
sidewalks were crowded and our driver had to slow down occasionally when a kid ran
into the street, usually chasing a ball of some sort. All of the trees were
covered in new leaves, the bright spring green complemented red brick row
homes. The windows were cracked and all of the blossoms made the air sweet,
covering up the usual metallic tang. We drove past a rectory and then turned
the corner to see a towering limestone structure that was taking up half of a
city block. Each ornate door was framed by a large arch and colorful stained
glass windows broke up the monotony of gray stone. Instead of spires like some
of the other churches in the city, this one was built almost like a castle.

Mom paid the driver and we stepped out onto the
sidewalk that, despite being in front of a church, was still desecrated with
years’ worth of gum; gray, green and black dots were forever pressed into the
concrete. Our heels, mom’s sensible one inch pumps and my three inch black
strappy ones, clicked as we walked up to the slightly curved stairs that led to
the front door. An identical set of steps was on the right adding to the grand
entrance and castle-like effect.

One of the double doors was propped open and we
stepped inside the entryway. Like with most churches I’ve experienced, there
was a hushed reverence as if the building was soundproofed from the outside
world. Once my eyes adjusted to the dim interior, I noticed a man standing
right inside and I jumped. Mom did too and latched onto my arm. I didn’t
recognize him. He was wearing a light blue dress shirt underneath a navy suit
jacket that matched his pants. One of his hands hovered near his hip and he had
a military vibe to his stance. He had thick dark hair and stubble coated his
square jaw. The way he visually frisked me and my mom made it clear to me that
he was a soldier and guarding the entrance. My mom kept looking back at him
over her shoulder once we passed by, so I hooked my arm through hers and
practically dragged her through stained glass doors into the sanctuary. This is
where the hushed reverence ended and the boisterous Grabanos began.

A chorus of conversations bounced off the high
ceilings of the sanctuary. Certainly the people crowding around the first two
rows of pews demanded attention, but I was distracted by the murals on the
walls and ceilings in the alcove surrounding the altar. I knew Michelangelo
didn’t paint them, but whoever did possessed comparable talent. Being an
artist, my eye was immediately drawn to the rich hues of red and gold that
popped against a twilight sky. Religious scenes were depicted in great detail
with angels and saints looking down on the scene below. On the back wall of the
alcove, the obligatory statue of Jesus on a cross stood as witness to all. I
was so busy looking up, that I didn’t see Dominic approach until he was almost
in front of me.

One minute I was standing in the middle of the
aisle, staring at gold filigree molding and the next minute deep green eyes
obstructed my view. “Oh! Hi,” I said breathlessly, still a little awestruck by
the museum-like interior of the church. From the outside it didn’t look like
much.

   “It’s beautiful, huh?” Dominic said with a smile
before giving me a hug. I breathed in his spicy cologne and slipped my arms
around his broad back, grateful for the high heels so I didn’t have to stand on
tip-toes. I was just tall enough to peek over his shoulder and I saw several
people looking at us with varying expressions ranging from approval and
surprise to disapproval. Miranda and Grant were off to the side talking to the
priest, but that didn’t stop Miranda from giving me a thumbs-up and I rolled my
eyes at her. Stepping out of Dominic’s embrace, I gave him a quick once over.
He was wearing black dress pants and shoes. The sleeves of his white button
down dress shirt were rolled up to his elbows revealing tanned and muscular forearms.
His dark hair was still damp and curled around his ears.

   “You look amazing,” Dom said to me and I glanced
down at the slim fitting fuchsia dress, his presence having caused me to
temporarily forget what I was wearing. The dress had a skinny black belt, which
matched my shoes. “Come on, we’re about ready to start the rehearsal.”

Just as he said it, the priest called all members of
the bridal party up to the altar. Dom took my hand in his and started towards
the front. I balked and yanked my hand free. He stopped and looked back at me
with his eyebrows raised.

   “We’re not together anymore, remember? We can’t
just pick up where we left off,” I whispered, conscious of how the slightest
sound carried.

Dominic’s demeanor changed and he straightened his
shoulders, a faint scowl formed when he pinched his lips together. Stepping off
to the side, inches away from a pew, he gestured with an outstretched arm for
me to pass. Standing tall, I walked by, but he still managed to rattle me when
he fell into step next to me and placed his hand on the small of my back. We
were too close to our families for me to say anything without causing a scene
so I let it slide.

Father Delaurdis assembled us along the gray green
marble steps leading up to the altar, which was an exquisitely carved wooden
table, draped with an ivory cloth, at the center of a dais. Dominic was Grant’s
Best Man and Cici was Miranda’s Maid of Honor so they were one step below where
the bride and groom stood. I stood next to Cici and across from Dante. Joey D.
stood across from Allegra who hadn’t stopped giving me the stink eye since she
saw Dominic greet me. Miranda’s brother, Paulie, was the last groomsman and
Bianca the last bridesmaid. Once we were all assembled, we received instructions
then walked through what would be an hour and half long ceremony. The Maid of
Honor had to do most of the work. Looking out at the pews, I noticed my mom had
been absorbed into a group of Grabano women. She sat next to Miranda’s mother
and she watched the rehearsal with interest. We weren’t raised Catholic and
didn’t go to church a lot growing up so this was a new experience.

Once we did one run through, we started over, but
this time from the very beginning with Miranda walking down the aisle. I was
surprised to see her Uncle Al step forward from where he had been sitting on a
pew.  Miranda slipped her arm through his, in her other arm she held the
bouquet made of ribbons from her bridal shower, and they walked back to the
stained glass doors near the front entrance.

   “You’re going first, Natalie. Then Allegra’s
supposed to count down from ten once you start to walk down the aisle and she’ll
follow you. Bianca, you count down from ten before going. Got it?” Cici
whispered.

   “Got it,” we agree in unison.

   ‘Great! Then the ring bearer and flower girls
will follow Bianca then I’ll go with Miranda and Al coming last.”

Suddenly soft music began and grew louder. It was a
classical piece and vaguely familiar. On a certain note, I stepped through the
double doors and onto the aisle. Grant and his groomsmen were already
positioned with Father Delaurdis at the top of the altar. Once in my spot
across from Dante, I watched the rest make their way. Any side chatter ceased
the moment Miranda and Al started to walk down the aisle.

My feet were screaming towards the end and I made a
mental note that whenever I got married, the ceremony was going to take less
than twenty minutes. Father DeLaurdis pronounced the rehearsal a success and we
were free to leave. I walked over to where my mom was sitting and chatting with
Miranda’s mom. Paulina smiled at me when I plopped down on the pew, stretching
my legs out, taking the pressure off of the balls of my feet.

From this vantage point it was easy to sit and
really appreciate the artwork above me. The various conversations in the room
created a relaxing hum in the background. Late afternoon sun streamed in
through the stained glass windows that lined one wall of the sanctuary, while
the windows on the other were still as beautiful, just not as radiant; the
colors muted and not set ablaze by sunlight.

My reverie was interrupted when someone sat down
next to me on the pew and I turned to see my brother, he had his long legs
stretched out in front of him too.

   “So what do you think?” Grant asked.

   “This church is beautiful and you must really
love Miranda to endure a religious ceremony that’s over an hour long.”

Grant laughed and shrugged. “She’s worth every
second and it’s what she wants.”

I wanted to ask him how they managed to bypass all
of the rules of Catholicism in order to have a traditional ceremony. Not only
were Grant and Miranda “living in sin”, but she was pregnant and Grant
basically killed people for a living. Deciding it wasn’t the right time or
place for that kind of a Q & A session, I kept my mouth shut.

   “Good answer, Grant. I think Miranda’s worth it
too.”

   “I can’t believe we’re getting married tomorrow
though, and I’m going to be a dad.”

Grant’s life had certainly changed course, but then
again so had mine. We both had outgrown our hometown and weren’t going back.

   “You’ll be a good dad," I said, patting his
knee reassuringly. And he would. We didn’t have a stellar example of a father
growing up, but Grant always put other people’s needs first and I knew he’d do
the same for his child.

   “Ready to go eat?” Grant asked me and my stomach
growled. Just the mere thought of Aunt Gloria and Uncle Franco’s food triggered
that response despite the nervousness that had been residing in my gut as I
prepared myself for seeing Dominic’s family in full force. 

We passed the man at the door and Grant nodded at
him. Miranda and my mom walked on ahead so I pulled Grant off to the side at
the top of the steps.

   “Why the muscle?” I asked, gesturing towards the
soldier. “Is something going on?”

   “No in fact there really isn’t much going on at
all and it’s the quietest it’s been since…” he trailed off and stared out past
my shoulder. “Shit.”

   “What?”

   “Just a feeling. It hasn’t been this quiet since
before all of the Nucci shit went down.”

   “Oh,” I shared in his sinking feeling. One of the
reasons why Grant even considered me working at Crimson was because things were
calm in the mob world. Only a few months later did another family try to gain
control. The attempt was bloody, violent, and I somehow wound up in the middle.

   “Dom isn’t Marco and I’m sure he doesn’t have
nearly as many enemies. Just because it’s quiet doesn’t mean something bad is
going to happen. Take it for what it is and enjoy the moment.”

Grant sighed and rubbed his hand along the back of
his neck. “You’re right. I’m probably just being paranoid.”

We walked down the stairs and caught up with mom and
Miranda. They were waiting outside of Grant’s Audi.

   “Is everything okay?” Miranda asked looking from
me to Grant.

   “Yup, all good,” Grant kissed her cheek before
opening the door for her.

I got into the backseat and we were off to Franco’s
Restaurant and to what was bound to be a full-on Grabano experience for my mom.
If she had noticed anything unusual about Miranda’s family, she hadn’t
mentioned it. After tonight she might be slightly more suspicious. How Grant
planned on keeping his life a secret from her was beyond me. Then again, as I
knew from personal experience, he was really good at keeping secrets.