Chapter 70
Lunch was great. Besides Caterina – Valentino’s wife – my mom’s cooking was the best I’d ever tasted.
There was ribollita, a soup made of beans, kale, celery, and day-old bread.
Pici all’aglione, the local pasta with garlic sauce and hot peppers.
There were porcini mushrooms sauteed in garlic and butter, a salad with breadcrumbs, a selection of cheeses, and Mama’s specialty: tripe spiced with saffron.
I loved it, although when Emilia asked my mother what it was, I quickly butted in. “Beef.”
What she didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her.
Turns out she loved it, too.
We were all sipping on Papa’s homemade wine and enjoying the warm autumn weather when things took a turn for the worse.
“So how did you two meet?” Serafina asked eagerly.
“My boss’s wife has a dress shop,” I answered. “Emilia works next door.”
Serafina turned to Emilia. “Ooh – what do you do for a living?”
“Nothing important,” Emilia said with an apologetic smile. “I just work in a café.”
“I’d love to work in a café in Florence!” Serafina said excitedly.
“It’s a very beautiful city,” Emilia admitted.
“Your boss’s wife owns a dress shop?” Giancarlo asked in surprise.
“Yeah,” I answered. “Well, it’s opening soon.”
“She just runs it?”
“No, she designs all the dresses, too.”
“Huh,” Giancarlo said.
“What?”
“I just wouldn’t have thought the wife of a…”
Giancarlo trailed off and glanced nervously over at Papa.
Shit.
I tried to fill the awkward pause. “Bianca’s a really talented designer. She’s going to be as big as Dolce and Gabbana one day – ”
“Not that she has to,” Papa interrupted sourly.
I ignored him. “Or Armani, or Versace – ”
“Or Al Capone,” he grumbled.
I forced a smile.
I tried to keep my mouth shut –
I really did –
But I couldn’t help myself.
“Actually, Al Capone’s parents were from Naples. He was American,” I said. “And none of them ran a dress shop.”
“No,” my father snarled, “they just did what you and your boss do: steal from hard-working people.”
“Fulvio – ” Mama pleaded.
“Extort small businesses,” Papa continued.
Giancarlo winced as he looked at me. Sorry.
Too fuckin’ late for THAT, I thought as I glared at him.
Papa kept going like he was reciting the catechism. “Pimp out prostitutes – sell drugs to children – spread corruption in the government – ”
“And run dress shops,” I interrupted Papa, trying to inject some humor.
It didn’t work.
He scowled at me. “With blood money.”
Emilia’s eyes widened.
I avoided looking at her and faced down Papa instead. “My bosses aren’t like that.”
“Of course they are,” he scoffed. “They’re mafia.”
“They don’t sell drugs to children,” I shot back. “In fact, they got out of drugs entirely, but it didn’t stop the drugs from coming in, and it didn’t stop people from using. Only now they’re shooting poison into their arms and snorting bad shit up their noses.”
“Giorgio!” my mother reprimanded me about my language. I ignored her.
“But because people are dying, my bosses are trying to figure out how to make it stop so they can save lives.”
“Murderers figuring out how to squeeze a little more profit out of their victims,” Papa snarled.
“Uh-huh,” I said sarcastically. “Do you know that I’ve spent the last two months going around to prostitutes in Florence, offering them five grand apiece if they’ll get out of the sex trade?
That’s what my boss is doing. He’s trying to help women start a new life.
But you don’t want to hear about that, do you?
You’d rather just stand up on a fucking soapbox and preach. ”
Every single one of my siblings gasped.
Nobody talked to Papa that way.
My father’s face turned scarlet. He leaned over and rasped, “Why don’t you go ask Lorenzo’s parents if they wish they’d preached a little more to their son? Maybe if they had, he’d still be alive today.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Emilia turn ghostly white.
But then I didn’t see her at all –
Because my vision darkened around the edges, and suddenly I was back on the Isle of San Michele.
Lorenzo was lying on the ground on his back, his blood staining the gravel beneath him.
Over to my side, Rocco moved to help him –
“NO!” Lars shouted as he held Rocco back. “That’s just what the sniper wants. You go out there and you’re DEAD.”
I stood there helplessly and stared as Lorenzo bled out on the ground –
His face as white as Emilia’s.
“Lorenzo was trying to save a woman from being kidnapped,” I said hoarsely.
“He worked for criminals,” Papa snarled, “and he died like a dog in the gutter.”
Coming here was a mistake.
I’d known it… but I’d been so in love, I thought everyone would be happy for me.
No.
Wrong.
I bolted up from my seat, my palms sweaty and my hands trembling. I couldn’t get Lorenzo’s face out of my head. “I’m leaving.”
“You know I’m right!” Papa yelled at me. “You live by the sword, you die by the sword!”
“Emilia, let’s go,” I said.
She stood up as though in a trance, her expression blank.
Everyone else at the table stayed frozen in their seats.
“You can’t outrun this!” Papa shouted at me as I took Emilia’s hand and led her away from the table. “If you work for evil men, you will die with evil men!”
I didn’t look back. I just pulled Emilia along behind me.
My father was still shouting as we rounded the house and got to the car.
“Giorgio,” Emilia whispered, pleading with me.
“Just get in,” I said.
She at least did me that favor.
As I was circling the car to the driver’s side, I heard Giancarlo yelling my name behind me.
“Giorgio!”
I turned to see him running towards me, a tortured look on his face.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “It’s my fault.”
“It’s not your fault,” I said numbly. “I should have fuckin’ known better than to come back.”
“He’s just scared,” Giancarlo pleaded. “He’s worried about you.”
“Then he should learn how to say it without calling me a murderer,” I replied, and got in the car and started the engine.
The last thing I saw was Giancarlo in the rearview mirror, staring at me sadly as I drove away.