I’m glad Celia’s not here. I hope she’s still alive. I really like her, my outlaw sister. She doesn’t deserve this kind of treatment, that’s for sure. I mean, neither do I, but it’s what life has taught me to expect so far.
And I’m really starting to wish I’d stayed at home and talked things out with Luca. Even yelled things out.
Because now I’ll never see Luca again.
I squeeze my eyes shut as they blur. I won’t fucking cry in front of these assholes. I can feel my old friend Death standing in a back corner of this warehouse, only he doesn’t feel so friendly now. I can even hear his feet coming closer, clicking across the floor—wait.
Death wears heels?
I open my sore eyes, blinking to clear them, and I must be having some kind of drug flashback. Walking towards me, like a vengeful ghost coming out of the gloom, is my mother…
No.
I squint, force my eyes into focus. Not Mom. It’s Maggie. With her long, pale red hair and close-fitting white suit, she sure does look like Mom did on that last day.
“Mags!” Joey cries out. “Lovely as ever, and right on time.”
He puts his hands on her. His dirty, groping hands go all over her as he pulls her in for a kiss, but even worse—she lets him. And I can only sit there and watch, nausea rising in my stomach, head aching and throbbing and feeling three times too big for my body.
After a moment, Maggie gently pushes Joey’s hands away, gives him a smile that I know is fake, because it’s the same one she always gives me, and takes those few last steps towards me. She looks me over, her face placid. “Hello, baby brother,” she says lightly, too lightly, given the circumstances.
“Hi,” I croak, hoping I won’t get another punch for talking. But Joey seems too delighted with the scene, chuckling and looking around at his men to see if they get the joke.
I don’t get the joke, but there obviously is one, because everyone’s laughing. Even Maggie is smiling now, a real smile, though not a nice one.
Maggie turns to Joey and says, “I’d like a moment alone before we get on with things.”
Joey claps his hands. “Everyone out!” he hollers, and all the men file out, some complaining under their breath, like they want to stick around and watch the show. Joey hangs around until Maggie goes over to him and whispers in his ear. He tries to press a gun on her but she waves it off.
“I think we’re quite secure, aren’t we?” she asks, glancing back at me. “And you know I abhor violence, Joey.”
I start laughing at that, and I can’t stop, getting louder and louder and more out of control until Maggie takes three quick steps over to me and slaps me hard across the face.
It calms me down, at least.
“Aw, Maggie,” I slur. “You gonna give me a speech before you kill me?”
“I’m not going to kill you. I wouldn’t dirty my hands with your blood. No, Joey will get that privilege.”
I lean my head back, trying to find a position where it’ll stop hurting so much.
“I ain’t leaving you without protection,” Joey says. “What kind of man would I be if I left my lady alone with—”
Maggie turns impatiently on Joey, and waves an imperious hand. “Fine. Give me the gun. Then leave us.” Joey doesn’t seem to like being bossed around, his eyes flashing, but he hands over the gun and then makes his way out the door. I guess Maggie has him trained well.
She follows him right up to the door and then locks it behind him, before coming back over to me. She leans down to take in my face, like she’s planning the next place to wallop me. “That door over there is the only door out of here, just FYI. And I do believe Joey Fuscone hates you almost as much as I do. So even if you somehow get free of that chair, get my gun and shoot me—which we both know you won’t—there’s still no way out. Are we clear?”
“How long have you been in bed with the Fuscones?” I ask, like that’s the important thing right now. But I can’t hide my astonishment. “And literally, too? How can you even stand letting him touch you?”
She gives me an allover stare. “I could ask the same of you and your husband.” She just about spits the word out. “And as for how long I’ve been laying my plans…well, this has all been a long time coming, Howie. A long time.”
I don’t like the way she’s waving the gun around casually, like she doesn’t really know how to hold it. Fuscone took the safety off, too, so if she accidentally pulls that trigger, God only knows where the bullet will go.
I change tack. “Does Pops know about this?”
“Pops? What does he have to do with anything? Pops does what he’s told, just like these fool Italians do. Someone had to take the reins of our family, and it certainly wasn’t going to be you, was it?”
After Mom died, it’s true: Pops kind of gave up on the world. I never saw him much after that, but every time I did he was a little bit smaller, like a sponge drying up on the shore. Even at my wedding he seemed like a ghost of his former self. I guess it would’ve been easy enough for Maggie, always his favorite, to twist him to her will. “Okay. Well, if you want to play matriarch, I won’t stand in your way. You don’t need to kill me to lead the family. Nothing to fear here. I’m a D’Amato now, anyway.”
She sneers. “I can assure you, I’m not killing you because I’m afraid of you. And
