See, in this Famiglia, cheating men are never to blame. They’ve been led astray by whores, bitches, sluts. Never by their own dicks, and when I suggested that maybe their men need to keep it in their pants to one little group of Wives, it went down like a lead balloon.
“Angie is Joey’s wife,” Celia whispered to me after we moved on hurriedly, like that explained it. She shepherded me over to the snack table, which no one was near.
“So?”
Celia’s eyes went round. “Joey Fuscone is…uh, you know what? Maybe you should ask Luca about him. We shouldn’t talk about their business.”
But she spills all about where Joey’s getting his dick wet, and then she dishes about Joey’s uncle, Sam Fuscone as well. Apparently he has a regular thing with a woman out in Queens called Loretta, and Loretta’s got a few other fish on her hook, too.
Ah, Celia’s a font of information. Lucky, since I couldn’t ask my husband about any of this even if I wanted to, because I never see him. But of course, I do know the names. Joey Fuscone is the jerk who punched me when Luca’s men abducted me all those months back. And Sam Fuscone’s the one who wanted me dead in the first place and started all this shit.
Changed my life completely in just a few short months.
Any slight regrets at suggesting to Angie Fuscone that maybe, just maybe, Joey’s an asshole, have been extinguished.
At first, the Wives don’t quite know what to make of me, especially after my first mini-altercation with Angela Fuscone. But Celia’s delight in me and the way she shows me off like I’m a fun new accessory soon buys me a pass with the rest of them. Even Marie Fuscone, whose house we’re in, tells me privately that she’s “just fine with queers getting married,” and that she keeps telling Sam to “stop being such an old stick-in-the-mud about it.”
For all Marie’s talk, I didn’t see her at the wedding. I didn’t see any of these wives, except Celia. But no, that’s not quite true—I do remember seeing that beautiful girl who’s currently hovering around the back of the room, not talking to anyone, looking like a puppy on the verge of tears.
“Who’s that?”
Celia looks over where I’m subtly pointing and makes a sympathetic expression. “Oh, that’s Connie. She’s Tino’s, um…companion.”
“You’re telling me a dreaded Mistress has infiltrated this gathering?” I hiss dramatically.
Celia giggles, but she looks nervously around to make sure I haven’t been overheard. “No, silly,” she whispers. “Tino isn’t married. He says he’ll never get married, but he sure treats his ladies like he’s married to them.”
“Until he gets tired of them and picks up a younger model?” I guess.
Celia says nothing in reply, just changes the subject, but I can see I’ve guessed right. And I can see that Connie isn’t popular with the Wives, even if she’s supposed to be an honorary spouse. No, top dog here is Marie Fuscone; even the other Capos’ wives give way to her. She’s Head Bitch in Charge.
And that’s a problem, because I assume it reflects Sam Fuscone’s status as well. Marie’s the one who calls the shots over each and every other wife in the place, and it’s obvious that Connie is the runt of the litter despite being tied to the Alpha Wolf, Tino Morelli.
But Marie’s position stems from fear rather than love. There are dark glances cast her way when she’s not looking, and I hear snatches of bitter conversations that would make Marie’s hair curl even tighter if she ever heard what some of these women were saying about her.
I make my way boldly over to Connie, Celia trailing along behind me nervously. Tino’s treasured companion looks incredible in her tight, deep-red dress that sets off her black hair and dark eyes, plus a square-cut neckline that makes the most of her sizeable assets. “Prada?” I ask, smiling.
She jumps like she’s not used to being spoken to, her mineral water sloshing around in the glass. “Oh!” she squeaks. “Yeah.” And then she smiles, and her whole face lights up with warmth. “It’s lovely to meet you, Finch. Um, hi Celia. You look lovely today.”
“Thanks,” Celia says with a tight smile. Apparently talking to Connie is not the Done Thing.
But I like to do my own thing.
After a few minutes of chitchat with Connie, I can see why Tino likes her. She’s gorgeous, but she’s more than that—kind, funny, not exactly clever, but canny in that street-smart way. I can see, too, why the Wives dislike her, try to keep her stamped down under their ugly shoes. Connie has Tino wrapped around her little finger.
By the time Celia and I are driven back home, I feel like I’ve got a brand-new ace up my sleeve. Even my Pops, who doesn’t like me much, recognized the help I could be in feeding information back—not that I have, and I certainly don’t intend to. But Luca doesn’t see me as a potential source.
There are a whole set of shadow politics and rivalries going on among the Wives that I bet my butt Luca has no idea about. And even if he did, he’d dismiss it; just women’s chatter, right?
But he’d be wrong. There’s information I found out today about his men that could be useful to him…
If I choose to share it.
Chapter Thirty
LUCA
It’s been a difficult few weeks.
Between getting up early, staying out late, creeping into Finch’s bed in the middle of the night and then back to my own…well, I haven’t been getting much sleep. Worse, my conversation with Tino about my crew a week ago didn’t run to plan. Oh, he gave me permission to choose whoever I wanted, but with one big, fat, unwelcome caveat: Joey Fuscone had to be one of them.
It’s the closest I’ve ever come to disrespecting my Don, and only Angelo, hovering nearby with his holstered guns
