“A hostage?” Fuscone sneers. “He’ll just try to escape.” The word comes out excape.
“No he won’t,” Tino says, looking at Finch, who shakes his head rapidly in agreement. “Because he’s not gonna be a hostage. He’s gonna be our new ally.”
Fuscone makes an involuntary movement next to me, but I stay as still as ever. A man who can’t control his own body can hardly control others. “That’s right,” Tino continues, “this kid is gonna marry into the Family.”
Finch goes from green to sheet-white. “But I’m—”
Frank gives him a sharp prod in the side, and the kid shuts up, thank God.
Tino gives Finch his patented fatherly look. “I know what you are, kid; we all know. Times have changed, though. Tradition is important, but I like to be, uh…socially aware where we can. So I’m not gonna force you onto someone’s daughter. That would be a despicable thing to do, to the both of you. No. You’ll marry Luciano, here, and you’ll be a wonderful, dutiful husband to him. You hear?”
I don’t look at him, but out of the corner of my eye, I see Finch’s mouth fall open. I know how he feels. Mine fell open when Tino suggested it, too.
Joey Fuscone, Sam’s nephew, snorts and laughs; he thinks it’s a joke. His uncle knows it’s not.
“No fuckin’ way,” Fuscone says, his tone dark and dangerous. Angelo pulls out his gun. No one talks to Tino like that. Fuscone reels it back in. “Tino, come on, you’re joking, right? The crew can’t have a couple of fairies running around town representin’ us. We’ll be a laughingstock!” His voice gets louder and louder, and he’s rocking on his feet. I glance at him and see his face has gone puce.
One day Fuscone’s just going to keel over and die from a stroke. I hope I get to kill him before that day comes.
“That is my decision,” Tino says simply. “It solves your money problems, Sam. Howard Donovan will play ball if we have his son as leverage. You have no quarrel with this lad, after all, only his father. Isn’t that right?”
Fuscone, still seething, points at me. “The money ain’t my only problem, Tino! This fucker disrespected me. You gonna reward him for that?”
Angelo takes a step forward.
Tino folds his arms and leans back, staring at Fuscone from under his brows. “You think me marrying these two off is a reward, eh? Are you so happy in your own marriage?”
I can sense a change in Fuscone, even if I can’t see his face.
Tino gestures to me. “Does Luciano look like this is a reward to him?” Fuscone looks me over, and I try to keep my face looking disappointed, if not downright bitter about the whole thing.
In fact, I just don’t know how to feel.
“And another thing,” Tino says. “I may put up with you lot running around on your wives, but I expect this to be a real marriage.” He looks at me and Finch. “That means you’re faithful unto death, you hear me? You don’t go outside the marriage bed. I catch word of you out sniffing around, D’Amato, we’re gonna have a problem.”
Fuscone really likes that.
I don’t.
I take my pleasure where I find it, with men who don’t know who I am, or don’t want to. That’s what makes Finch so infuriating with his insistence that he somehow knows me. I have a reputation for getting a lot of tail, and that’s earned me respect in the Family, even if they still hate me for being queer.
But I just give Tino a nod. I’d resigned myself to a loveless and mostly-sexless marriage with some hapless Mob princess down the line anyway. I always assumed we’d have a few unsatisfying fucks so I could knock her up for the next generation, although we would never have the thirteen kids of a good Catholic family. I figured as long as I did that familial duty, I could take my pleasure with rent boys. It’s what the rest of these fools do, after all: have their whores on the side. Except Frank. He worships the ground his Celia walks on.
I’m under no illusions, though. I might have talked Tino into saving Finch, but this marriage will be a joke to Fuscone and his allies, and more than that, the target on the back of my head just got bigger. I’ve never hidden who I am. What kind of tough guy would I be if I pretended to be something I’m not? But it’s always been a reason for hatred and mistrust from others in the Family. Tino broke with tradition when he made me, but at least I have my Italian surname. Now I won’t have a wife or family to tie me any closer to the rest of them.
I give my soon-to-be-husband a glance. He’s swaying on his feet, clammy. Frank is holding him up by the waist now. I try to think about the fact that I’m being shackled to a druggie slut, but I can’t make myself feel the contempt I normally would. All I can think about is that face appearing out of the crowd in a nightclub, five years back.
My guardian angel.
Now he’s my flightless bird. I’ll have to keep his wings clipped, at least till I’ve dealt with the Fuscone problem, because Fuscone still means to do murder. I can smell it on him.
If for one moment Fuscone suspects I don’t hate this situation, he’ll break ranks to kills me—Tino or no Tino.
“If we’re doing this, we’re doing it right,” Fuscone brays. He’s gone from fury to delight. “I want a nice white wedding, and I’ll walk you down the aisle, D’Amato. You’ve
