Chapter 25
Santino
“You look happy, San,”
Emilio says, joining me on Albie’s couch to watch the game.
“I am, man.”
I take a drag from my beer and settle back into the couch, propping my feet up on the coffee table. I spent yesterday relaxing with my wife, letting her body recover from the absolute primal and mind-blowing fucking we did all weekend, and then I held her all night and woke her up to fuck her slow and lazily before going to my meeting with Leo this morning.
Emilio, Albie, and I have a Monday night football tradition to maintain, and Mia insisted I keep it.
“It’s going well with Mia, then?”
I can’t stop the smile from taking over my face. “Yeah, it is.”
“Good, brother. You deserve to be happy.”
“So do you and Albie.”
“Eh, we’ll find women when we find them. Or maybe we’ll take a page from your playbook and just marry a random hot chick and fall in love.”
“She was never random,”
I confess, and he goes quiet, his attention now on me and not the TV.
“What do you mean?”
Emilio asks.
“I made sure marrying Mia was a part of my deal with Leo. I could’ve negotiated without her, but I’ve wanted her for months. I saw her at Leo’s wedding and have been waiting until the right moment to take her. The opportunity came sooner than I thought, actually.”
“Are you fucking serious, San?”
he asks incredulously.
I look at him and laugh. “Yeah, why? You’re looking at me like I’m insane.”
“Because you are. Hey, Al, get in here!”
he yells over his shoulder.
“What? I’m in the middle of making pizza.”
Damn, I don’t want to interrupt him when he’s cooking. For all that he lacks in time management skills and seriousness, he makes up for in his cooking abilities. When our mom would be off on one of her trips or out to dinner with her friends, leaving us home with dad, Albie was usually in charge of cooking. He taught himself when we were tired of take-out, and while we all can hold our own in the kitchen, he’s the best out of the three of us.
“Santino just told me something quite interesting that you need to hear.”
“Really?”
his eyes light up, ready to have something good to hold over my head.
“Yes, it turns out he orchestrated marrying Mia this entire time. She wasn’t just the one the Carfanos offered up on the chopping block as a prize for helping them and joining our families. She was requested by our dear older brother. Insisted upon, actually.”
“Was she now? Well, well, well, isn’t that interesting?”
“Yes, it is. He saw her at Leo’s wedding and waited for the right moment to take her.”
“Jesus,”
I groan, letting my head fall back on the couch. “You better not go around telling people this shit.”
“Does Mia know?”
Albie asks.
“Yes.”
His eyes widen in surprise. “And she still wants you?”
“Fuck off. Yes, she does.”
“Huh, I have to rethink how I go about getting women from now on,”
Albie jokes, contemplating.
“I knew she was the one and mine from the moment I saw her. I had to have her. I married her so she’d be tied to me and couldn’t just walk away when I spouted my crazy.”
“Fuck, man,”
Emilio says, looking at me like he doesn’t know me. “I’ve never been that crazy over a woman and I hope I never am.”
“Same,”
Albie agrees. “I don’t need crazy. I need easy and often. That’s it.”
“Shut up and get back in the kitchen. We’re hungry,”
I tell him, and his easy grin disappears.
“You’re lucky I know ladies love a man who can cook or I’d take offense to that and punch you in the goddamn face.”
Emilio and I laugh and drink our beer. “Don’t punch me, brother. I don’t want to explain a black eye or busted lip to my wife. She might not look at me like a prime piece of meat anymore if I was marred.”
Emilio laughs harder. “Chicks love battle wounds, brother.”
“It’s true, they do,”
Albie agrees. “The scar above my eyebrow has always made the ladies think I’m a little dangerous and can hold my own in a barfight.”
“You got that scar from when we were kids and Emilio clocked you in the head with a Hot Wheels car when you were being annoying.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t tell them that,”
he grumbles, walking back into the kitchen.
“He’s so easily thrown,”
Emilio jokes, shaking his head.
“He’ll never outgrow being our annoying little brother. We have to remind him occasionally.”
We clink beer bottles and go back to watching the game.
During halftime, Emilio brings up the topic I don’t care to discuss. “I can’t believe Javi is making you go on the run on Wednesday to prove your loyalty or some bullshit like that.”
“Yeah, it’s been years since I did that shit, and now I have to do it again to prove myself like I had to do with dad. I’m going to look like a fucking pussy Boss who has to prove himself like a goddamn soldier.”
“I can go with you instead of one of our guys as backup. Maybe it’ll seem less pussy-like if I do.”
“No, definitely not. I’ll be fine. I’m going to drive the truck going to Philly. It’s a safer route and a more discreet warehouse drop off than Newark or New Haven. I obviously can’t drive the truck just going to the Brox. I’d look like even more of a pussy avoiding doing my job if I take the shortest route.”
“I guess.”
He shrugs.
“Leo and I talked to the Melccionas this morning, and they’ll have two men riding along in each truck. The delivers should be quick and easy with the extra hands to help unload.”
“You think Javier will approve of the deal?”
“He will. He’s getting a discount working with the Melccionas while still working with a reputable family.”
“You’re more confident than I am. I don’t know.”
Em shakes his head in disbelief. “Something about Javi has me thinking he’s agreeing too easily or doesn’t plan on saying yes in the end and just has you going on the run so he can fuck with you.”
“Fuck with me how? What is he going to do? He wouldn’t risk anything happening to his product, trust me on that.”
“I guess.”
I can still see the skepticism in his eyes, but he doesn’t question me further.