Now the clubs are closed and I’ve made my way via public transportation and my own two feet to the only friend I have left in the world right now. I watch Frank leave—driving like a bat out of hell, so I guess he’s gotten the call about me—give it another fifteen, and then I knock on the door bold as brass.
Celia, still in her dressing gown, only looks a little puzzled to see me. “Finch? Is everything okay?” Her phone pings, and she automatically checks it, frowning. “Oh, Frank’s asking about you—”
“Do me a favor, Cee, and don’t tell him I’m here just yet? Luca and I need some time apart to cool down a little. You know how it is, right?”
“Oh, no, did you guys have a fight? What did that idiot do now?” she asks sympathetically. “Come on in, honey, let me fix you some coffee.”
I follow Celia into the kitchen, which is about a quarter of the size of our master bathroom. Celia is a good little housewife for Frank, but it doesn’t seem fair to me that one brother should be in this tiny apartment while the other is living it up. Especially not considering how much Celia actually deserves; she’s a peach. I wonder if money is the reason they haven’t had kids yet. Although, the big crucifix in the hallway that we just walked past suggests contraception might not be something they’re into.
“Sit down, sit down,” she urges me, and I sit at the tiny kitchen table. Celia’s face is only half-made up for the day, her cheeks overly-rouged and her eyebrows too dark and blocky, as usual. Right now she’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. “Do you need, um, something to take the edge off?” she asks. “Frank’s being weird about my medication lately, and I know I’m not supposed to give you—I mean...” She trails off, the pink of her blush overtaken by the flush spreading across the cheeks.
“Forget it,” I tell her easily. “Luca doesn’t want me taking anything anymore, so I’m trying to be a good boy for him.”
She turns on the coffee machine and it gives a loud, complaining rumble before it begins to force water through the filter. “You don’t strike me as the kind to behave.”
“I’m turning over a new leaf.”
“Oh, really?” I think it’s the first time I’ve ever heard Celia being sarcastic, and I have to grin.
“Well, maybe tomorrow I’ll turn that leaf. We had Tino and Connie for dinner last night.” Celia just raises an eyebrow and waits for me to continue as she brings down two old mugs from the overhead cupboard. “It went pretty well, but afterwards I overheard Luca talking to Tino, and he said some shit that I didn’t like. And so, to teach him a lesson, I’m...” I spread my hands,
Celia giggles. “I get it. You’re showing him he needs to mind his manners. Those D’Amato brothers can be a handful. Nothing wrong with teaching them a lesson or two, just like Frank had to learn when I first got my hands on him. It takes a while to train a man, but it’s worth it in the end.”
Oh, Celia. I wish I had her simple view of things.
Her phone begins to buzz, and she looks down at it. It’s Frank again. Celia raises an eyebrow at me. “Should I?”
“I don’t want you get you in trouble, Cee. Well. Not any more trouble.”
She shrugs, lets it go to voicemail, and then we listen to the message on speaker together.
“Celia, this is Luca,” it begins.
“Oh, shit,” Celia breathes. I don’t think I’ve ever heard her swear before.
“I know he’s there with you,” Luca’s voice continues. “So I want you to give him a message from me. Tell him it’s not the time to make a grand gesture of independence. I need both of you safe. Stay there and don’t leave the apartment. Frank and I are on the way. And—and tell Finch I…”
Here, Luca trails off, and I know exactly what he wants to say, but won’t.
“Tell Finch that he knows me.”
The message ends, and Celia looks up at me.
“Well, it was almost an apology,” she says.
So I know Luca, do I? It’s not quite what I wanted to hear from him, but I guess he was leaving the message on Celia’s phone.
“Luca sure is scary sometimes, isn’t he?” Celia says nervously.
“Does it bother you?” I ask.
“Luca?” She frowns.
“No, not Luca. Well, not exactly. I mean all of it. The violence. The blood money. The crime.” Celia truly is a sweet girl, and it surprises me that she got herself mixed up with the Mob.
She can’t meet my eye, staring down at the tabletop and scratching it absently with a fingernail, and that’s when I know. Of course it bothers her. It would bother any decent person, and Celia is nothing if not decent. She deals with it by pretending it doesn’t exist, and when she needs extra help to block it out, she does Good Works for the local church. She avoids the other Wives and she keeps her head down.
“I love Frank,” she says. “You know? I love him. And he’s a good man,” she insists. “He provides for me and takes care of me, and he even stayed with me when we found out…”
I put my hand on hers, my fingers warm from the coffee cup. “You don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want to.”
Tears come to her eyes, and she shook her head. “If you don’t hear it from me, you’ll hear it from all those other bitchy wives anyway. I can’t have kids. We tried a long time, and then we went to the doctors, and it’s me. I’m the problem. We thought about IVF, but it’s so expensive… I told Frank to
