Making Angel (Mariani Crime Family Book 1) (11 page)

I shrugged. “When you move out of the house, you get a little more latitude.”

“Yeah? Well, I can’t wait to move out. Then I can just swim when I come home.” She crossed her arms and stared longingly at the pool.

I didn’t have the heart to tell her she wouldn’t get that much latitude.

Rachele called for Luciana from the kitchen.

My baby sister laid a finger to her lips to hush me and ducked down, hidden from view by the knee-high cobblestone divider that separated the pool from the lawn. Then she looked over her shoulder at the bushes surrounding the yard. I could almost see the wheels spinning in her head as she calculated whether or not she could make it into hiding before her mother spotted her.

“The bushes would tear your dress,” I warned. “Then you’ll really be in trouble.”

Her shoulders drooped. Head tilted to the side, she asked, “Angel, what’s ee’s dropping?”

“Eavesdropping?” I asked.

She flung up her hands in a gesture way too dramatic for a seven-year-old. “Whatever.”

“Why do you ask?”

“Because Mom and Aunt Mona were talking to Sonia about a boy and I tried to tell Sonia that boys were stupid. Then Mom got all mad and shushed me. She told me not to eeeeevees drop, but I didn’t drop anything.”

Fighting to keep from laughing, I stood and collected her shoes. Then I walked over and offered her a hand. “Eavesdropping, Luci. It means listening in on a conversation you shouldn’t be.”

“Well that’s stupid,” she replied. “Why would they talk right in front of me, if they don’t want me to listen?”

From the mouths of babes.

“I don’t know. Doesn’t make sense to me either. But you better go help your mom before you get in trouble. You don’t want to end up spending the evening in your room.”

“Maybe I do. It’s a lot more fun in my room than it is in the kitchen,” she argued.

I kissed her on the forehead. “Yeah, but I barely get to see you anymore. Dinner’s gotta be almost ready, and I want to sit by my beautiful little sister.”

“Fine.” She trudged toward the house like a captured inmate heading back to her prison cell. She was almost to the door when she paused and called over her shoulder, “But it’s a good thing I love you, Angel.”

Laughing, and feeling lighter after the sweet interaction I’d desperately needed, I straightened my suit and went to see what the men were up to. Cousin Alberto stood in the corner, talking politics with the neighbor. I stayed well away from that conversation and made a beeline for the grill. Father had everything under control, but Uncle Carlo showed up with Nonna and a car full of fresh pastries. Bones and I hurried out to help unload trays of homemade
cannoli
,
frittole
, and macaroons.

Helping Nonna came with tasty benefits. She kissed my cheek and popped a frittole in my mouth before offering one to Bones. Still warm from the oven, the Italian fried donuts filled with custard and sprinkled with sugar lifted my spirit even more.

Dante opened the door for us, talking on his phone. “Hold on a sec, babe,” he said into the phone, then covered the mouthpiece with his hand and flashed me a smile. “Hey, Angel. Bones.” Then he put the phone back up to his ear and resumed his conversation, heading out the door we’d just come in.

Bones leaned over and muttered, “Looks like Dante has a more active social life than you do.”

I shrugged him off, knowing even seven-year-old Georgio probably had more game than me, and continued on into the kitchen.

The cool evening was inviting, so we ate alfresco by candlelight. Salads, pastas, breads, wine, and conversation flowed for hours. Then Nonna pulled out her fabulous desserts and guilted everyone into trying at least one of everything. By the time Uncle Mario started strumming his guitar to provide us with after-dinner music, I was one breath away from a food coma. Bones sat beside me with his head lulling to the side, occasional streams of drool sliding down his chin. At seven fifty-five, Luciana and Georgio bounded onto the chair beside me and begged me to tuck them in. It took a couple tries to stand up, but once I finally did, I grabbed a sibling under each arm and carted them into the house and up the stairs.

“Story, story, story!” they chanted in unison.

Resistance was futile, so I grabbed
Where the Wild Things Are
from their bookshelf and collapsed on Luciana’s bed. My two favorite monsters piled on top of me and I read until they passed out and I was in danger of joining them. I carried Georgio to his own bed and headed back downstairs to say my good-byes and collect Bones.

Bones was in the middle of a game of horseshoes with Uncle Carlo and a few of my father’s goons, cash piled high on the card table beside the horseshoe pit attesting to the seriousness of the game. I stood back and watched the men pitch horseshoes for a moment, ready to head home but not wanting to interrupt.

Father joined me, keeping one eye on the game. “You wanna put some money on this action?” he asked.

“No sir.” Lowering my voice so only my father could hear, I added, “Uncle Carlo is playing them. I wouldn’t want to bet on him and tip them off, and I sure as hell won’t bet against him.”

Father chuckled, clapping me on the back. “Wise man. Never bet against the family.”

I nodded. It was the first lesson he’d taught me, and he’d given it while standing over the mutilated body of one of his enforcers. The second lesson was our
Omertà,
or code of silence, a Sicilian proverb that states “He who is deaf, blind, and silent will live a thousand years.” That one he’d delivered before sending me off with Cousin Alberto to hunt down a rat.

Every one of his lessons was burned into the back of my brain, and I could tell by his expression that he was about to give me another. Dread crept up my spine.

“So, what’s going on with that phone deal you made with your buddy Johnny?” Father asked.

I inwardly groaned, wanting to discuss anything
but
the phone deal. It had been almost two weeks since the family had lifted a hundred and fifty newly-released cell phones. I’d been brought in on the deal because each of the phones came with a built-in tracking device. Removing them without giving away our location had been tricky and included a four-hour ride in the back of a box truck with a chip fryer. Father had asked me to recommend a buyer, and because I wanted to impress him with my contacts, I suggested a loosely-connected fence by the name of Johnny Dominas.

Johnny had jumped at the offer to work with my family, but didn’t have the money upfront. Father, feeling unusually gracious that day, gave him one week to sell the phones and come up with the dough. I’d made the drop and arranged a time and location for the payout. Everything was going as planned until Johnny didn’t show. Even worse, he’d vacated his apartment and skipped out. Bones had all of his contacts searching for the weasel.

Since admitting I’d lost the fence would disappoint the old man, I said, “We’re working on it.”

Father’s eyes narrowed. “Can you get my money or not?”

Father had four core values: respect, loyalty, money, family, usually in that order. Ripping him off was a blatant show of disrespect, and would put a giant, expensive target on Johnny’s forehead. I didn’t want my friend to end up dead, so I was hoping to buy him a little more time to wise up.

“Yes,” I said with more confidence than I felt. “I’ll find him and get your money.”

Father frowned. “You never lose sight of someone who owes you. That’s bad business, Angel.”

His displeasure felt like a knife in my side. Especially since I knew he was right. I’d been suckered by friendship.

Today’s lesson… friends suck. Got it.

“Yes, Father, it is.”

“I never take my eyes off anyone.” He watched me for a moment before reiterating, “Anyone.”

“I know you don’t.”

“Well, Johnny doesn’t know anything, apparently. Not only did your boy blow my money at the track, but he also has a good-sized marker there. Now he’s hiding out, thinking I don’t know where he is and what he’s been up to.”

My stomach sank. Johnny was the definition of stupid.

“You say you can get my money? Good. You have one chance.”

“What do you want me to do?” I asked.

He shrugged. “Back in the old days, you steal something, they cut off your hand. Johnny stole from me. I want his hand.”

I tried not to gape at the old man. Sometimes he had a pretty twisted sense of humor. Hoping he was joking now, I asked, “You want me to bring you a bloody hand? What will you do with it?” My mind summoned up a gruesome scene of Bones and me trying to hack off Johnny’s arm as he screamed in pain. Then what? We’d cart it off in a big plastic bag?

Father chuckled, tilting his head to the side. “It would make quite an impression. No, I don’t want his hand. I just want my damn money. Lucky for Johnny, he’s a coward. You go in there and break a couple of his fingers, he’ll find a way to come up with the dough. I guarantee it. Then I’ll decide what to do with him.”

“I’ll get your money. Where is he?”

He patted me on the back. “Patience, my son. I’ll give you a call later this week, when I have him where I want this little confrontation to take place.”

Some fathers told their children to study or work hard. My father wanted me to break fingers, and nothing I could say or do would change him.

“Yes sir. I’ll wait for your call.”

CHAPTER TEN

Angel

M
Y FATHER WAS a complicated man with more layers than any fictional ogre. So many layers, in fact, that Tuesday afternoon he had me and Bones pick up the twins from school to kick off the annual Christmas drive for local orphans and foster kids. Father split a giant typed-out list in two, handing half of it, and Luciana, to me. He and several of his goons took Georgio. Luciana spent the next four hours dragging me, Bones, and a couple of Father’s guards up and down the aisles of locally-owned stores, marking clothes, toys, and games off the list as she piled them into our shopping carts.

There was something heartwarming about watching my baby sister shop for kids in need. She didn’t ask for a single thing for herself. Not once. I did catch her eyeing a pair of princess pumps, though, and had Bones buy them on the sly. Her gigantic heart had earned every sparkle on those damn shoes. It’d be a miracle if I held off until Christmas to give them to her.

Days like this reminded me of the good my father did for the community and made me proud to be part of the Mariani family. Too bad they couldn’t all be like this.