Chapter 27
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Jenny
Two weeks later
Joey is in the kitchen feeding Kingston breakfast of leftover eggs. I can’t compete with food. The dog is face down in his bowl scarfing it — Oh, he’s done. “Did you even taste it?” I ask him. The dog wags his little cinnamon roll tail at me.
“You look nice,” Joey says as he puts the frying pan away.
Wow! He washed and dried it minutes after using it. I’m not sure what witchcraft that must be.
I pull at my black dress. “Thanks. Waverly took me shopping.”
I don’t have any dresses that would fit the occasion, but this one feels nice on my skin and has the right vibes. Black isn’t my color though.
Joey checks his watch and his shoulders sink. “You don’t have to come, you know.”
I raise my eyebrows. “I would be there even if we weren’t sleeping together.”
His lips turn into a narrow line. “Is this one of those things that I’ll have to repeat a bunch until it becomes a core memory?”
I turn away from him and grab my purse off the counter. “Depends on what you’re about to say.”
He wraps his arms around my waist and whispers in my ear, “This isn’t just sex.”
I shiver, and I need to regain control. Deflect with humor.
“But we’re so good at it,” I counter.
“I didn’t say we weren’t. I need you to know this isn’t an empty physical relationship.”
My lips press against his cheek. “I know. I’m glad I can be there for you today.”
I don’t know if he’s fully satisfied with that answer. I think he wants to hear more. But words are easy to forget, and actions matter more.
A few minutes later we’re in his car. “When are you closing on the condo?” he asks as he turns down the Knights of the Night official podcast.
The date was moved around a few times. Since Silvio was in charge of the inspections, things have been backed up.
We went to his funeral two days ago. Business wise, someone else has already stepped in to fill his role, and life goes on.
But Joey’s eyes always linger on the blood stain in the office, and he blames himself.
This past week has been one traumatic event after another for him, and he keeps holding on to me. I'm his life raft.
“I will close in two weeks.”
He grunts and nods his head. “Good. I’ll be happier when you're in my building full time.” He drums his fingers against the steering wheel. “Or… you could stay in my place and rent out yours. I mean, your 3D printer is already set up,” he rushes out. “Or whatever.”
We’ve already had the conversation that I’m moving into the condo.
It’s important we each have our own spaces for now.
He might get tired of having six open drinks in the living room.
I keep waiting for the shoe to drop. For him to run away or get bored of me.
But he seems committed, and I’m not my normal ball of self-doubt.
This is, however, the third time he’s suggested I rent out the apartment and stay with him. Yesterday when he brought it up, he said Kingston would miss me.
“Maybe. It might be better for security if we were in the same place.” I’m not fully caught up with who this Deviant guy is, but it seems like his efforts to destroy the Four Families failed.
The business has remained relatively unharmed. There was a literal dumpster fire by Joey’s club, but that was put out before any major damage occurred. Besides the obvious losses, the Four Families seem to have come out the other end of this war.
We pull into the parking lot and most of the family are already there. There had been a lengthy discussion about pall bearers. But it was decided against a casket. Joey joins his family, shaking hands with guests and saying thank you.
I’ve never been to a Catholic cathedral before. It's imposing and bright, but also with long, lingering shadows. There’s a long aisle with benches on either side, and I freeze. I don’t know where to sit.
I’m not family.
I’m not an old friend.
I’m not a business associate.
Where do I go?
Fingers lace with mine. “Come on,” Joey whispers and leads me to the front row. The altar looks like a flower shop exploded, and there’s a posterboard picture next to the pulpit. “She’s so young,” Joey says.
I sit between Lance on my left and Joey on my right. Lance and Izzy have been taking care of Mastodon over the last week. They’re both incredibly tired, and Izzy has this green tinge to her skin that wasn’t there before.
Behind me, in the second row, sits Waverly, her super-hot tattooed boyfriend constantly holding her, Thiago and—who I assume is—his wife, plus the rest of the fathers and parents. Behind them are the Russians and the kids.
The music cues up, and Joey glances over and squeezes my hand. This is all real and painful for him.
The church doors open, and two more people enter. It causes a ripple of shock and mumbled gasps through the congregation.
Markus is wearing a blue suit and fiddling with his tie as he walks in. Alana follows, in heels and a black dress that falls below her knees. She's wearing sunglasses indoors and a black sun hat—cute, but it doesn't match the somber tone. Still, it's black, so I guess it works.
Lance jumps to his feet, hissing, “What are you doing? You should be sitting. The doctor told you not to move.”
Alana pulls her sunglasses down her nose and sighs. “The doctor said I need to take it easy. I didn’t run a half-marathon this morning. I’m fine.”
Lance hisses again. He’s gotten more and more protective of Izzy and Alana in the last few days.
“I’ll stand if I want.” Alana flips him the finger.
He hisses back, “This is holy ground. What are you doing?”
She shrugs. “Odin doesn’t care.”
Wait, is Alana Norse? I’ve never had a deep conversation with her about religion, but it tracks. She probably wants to drink in the halls of Valhalla. Yeah, that fits.
Lance keeps grumbling under his breath.
Waverly looks at Alana and asks, “Will you sit with me?” as she pushes her incredibly hot boyfriend out of the way.
Hot Boyfriend responds with, “Yes, of course. Please sit with my girlfriend. It’s not like I wanted to be near her during what could be an emotional day. Yeah. Cool.”
He steps aside and joins the pew with the Russians and the kids. Alana sits in his now-vacant spot as Markus joins the Russians, sitting between Dimitri and Uri.
“Hey, how are you feeling?” Uri asks him.
Markus beams. “Oh my God, I’m great. My knee hasn’t felt this good since... before Russia. Back when I jacked it up running away.”
Uri smiles, but his eyes fall to the side with barely masked guilt.
I don’t know his backstory or what happened in Russia, but it’s obvious he blames himself.
He’s been beating himself up for a week over Markus getting shot.
Honestly, for a while he was practically inconsolable.
He’s putting on a brave face in public, but I know the signs. He’s faking it on an epic scale.
The music swells again as the Cardinal strolls down the aisle. I think he’s a Cardinal. He’s dressed in all red and looks like a bird, so I’m going with it.
He starts the funeral.
Among the silence and prayers, the Cardinal says, “Please lower your heads.”
Then—a phone rings.
The crowd stiffens. Everyone twists in their seats trying to find the source of the sacrilegious interruption.
All eyes land on Alana.
She gives a half-apologetic smile and opens her purse. The phone continues to ring as she stares at the screen.
“I need to take this,” she says.
Gasps. Hissing. Mumbled blasphemy from all corners of the Four Families as Alana taps the screen, and a voice echoes through the speaker.
“Ah, Alana. I’d expect my ungrateful family to ignore my weekly phone calls and not check in on me while I’m in Italy—but you? I never expected you would miss our weekly computer chat. I waited for an hour and nary a notification.”
Silence and confusion ensue in the church, with the general consensus being: What. The. Hell.
Alana swallows as the color drains from her face. “Nonna?”
“What do you have to say for yourself?” Nonna demands.
I twist around in my seat, but the view sort of sucks. I shift and kneel on the pew, leaning over the back of the bench. Decorum be damned… Odin doesn't care.
Alana’s mouth hangs open. “We thought you were dead.”
“Why would I be dead?” She sounds insulted.
“Because the plane you took to Italy exploded over the Atlantic Ocean.” Alana looks around the church, I’m assuming to check that everyone has the same confused expression on their faces. Spoiler alert: they do.
“Oh no, I wasn’t on that plane. Some terrible young man pushed me aside and said, ‘I’m an Olympian, I only ride on the private jets.
’ He flashed his gold tooth and continued to be generally rude and horrible.
So, I got off the plane. I didn’t want to spend seven hours with that miscreant.
No wonder someone knocked his front tooth out. ”
Alana stays very still, her voice icy. “I know that guy. He orchestrated the attack on the kids.” She adds flatly, “His tooth is in Ian's bedroom.”
“Oh. Did you rip out his tooth?” Waverly whispers.
“He took my kids,” Alana counters, giving a little shrug. “Doesn’t matter much since he’s at the bottom of the ocean. Problem solved.”
Nonna continues, “I called my friend Rhea. She got me a second plane. That’s how I returned to Italy. But I needed an Epsim and couldn’t call without it. I assumed one of you would have figured that out.”
“An... Epsim?” Waverly whispers.
Alana’s eyebrows furrow into a deep V, clearly as confused as the rest of us.
“An Epsim. Epsim! What makes the phones work.”
“You mean an eSIM card?” Joey says.
Alana sinks her head, handing the phone over to him, giving him control of the situation.
“Yes, that’s the thing the boys called it.” Nonna waves her hand but pulls the screen closer to her face. “Where are you?”