Chapter 1 Tricks
TRICKS
DAPHNE
I didn’t think I’d feel this way. Laying eyes on my father after years of him being in prison is kind of like seeing someone rise from their grave.
He’s aged a bit since the last time I visited him. Two years into his sentence, he denied any further visitors, including my mom, which didn’t sit well with anyone in the family, but most of all her.
I suppose spending years behind bars can age a person prematurely, even someone as strong and stubborn as my father.
From everything I know about prison life, nothing is easy, and the evidence is written all over my father’s face.
The lines around his eyes, which used to be faint and barely visible, are deep and stark against his olive skin.
His black hair has larger swaths of white, mostly framing his handsome face.
Ma’s the first one to make her way to him, throwing her arms around his shoulders as soon as she’s close enough. My father holds her tight, tucking his face into the crook of her neck as he lifts her off the floor and spins her in the air.
They’ve been through this before. My dad has spent most of my life in and out of prison, never learning his lesson.
There’s a brief moment of hope as I watch them embrace, hoping he’s reformed after this last stint. But then again, he’s Santino Gallo, and he’s never seemed to learn.
They say you can’t teach an old dog new tricks, but I disagree. My father learned; he just ignored the hell out of the lessons, preferring to live life on his own terms, always bucking the system.
Lucky us.
At first, no one seems to notice my father’s presence besides my mother and me. But then, just like something out of a movie, the music stops playing, and the entire room goes silent. All eyes are on my parents, watching as they embrace.
I lift the whiskey to my lips, taking another sip as I try to collect my thoughts. The moment should be a happy occasion, but part of me is pissed. This is Lucio and Delilah’s day, not my dad’s, but he always finds a way to make everything about him.
“Well.” Angelo comes up behind me and places his hands on the bar. “This should be interesting.”
“One word for you.” I set down my empty glass and turn to face him. “Clusterfuck.”
“Maybe he won’t be so bad this time,” he tells me, and we both start laughing.
We know the thought is utter nonsense.
We know Santino.
We know his tricks.
His lies.
At my father’s core is a good man. A loving father and mostly, at least the last time he was out, a faithful and caring partner.
“Pop’s back,” Vinnie tells us like the entire wedding reception isn’t seeing him with our very own eyes.
“Way to go, Captain Obvious,” Angelo teases.
Vinnie has had the least amount of time with my father. Being the youngest, most of his life my dad was in prison. Even with that, Vinnie still idolized my father and always thought the best of him. We knew better. Years of disappointment will do that to people.
If it weren’t for Angelo and Lucio, I don’t know where Vinnie would be. They made him the man he is today, giving him guidance and advice as he navigated his teen years.
“He has the oddest timing. Why can’t he ever be normal?” I ask as I shake my head. “The man has no limits or shame.”
“Shit’s about to get sideways,” Lucio says as he comes to stand near the three of us, with Delilah at his side.
“Aren’t you guys happy?” Delilah glances between us. She doesn’t know the complexity of my father and the years of his bullshit either.
“Of course we are. He’s our dad, but he doesn’t make life easy for anyone.” Lucio pulls her tighter to his side and kisses her head. “You’ll learn soon enough.”
“He can’t be any worse than my father,” Delilah says, putting things into perspective for all of us.
Delilah knows all about messed-up fathers. I’d rather deal with my dad’s revolving door at the local prison than her father’s alcoholic tantrums.
Even after months apart, her father hasn’t bothered to contact her.
He really just washed his hands of her, preferring to pretend she never existed than to clean up his act and beg for her forgiveness.
At least my dad never did anything to hurt me.
He may have been a selfish prick at times, but he never did us any long-lasting harm.
“My bambini,” my father says as he walks toward us with his arms outstretched like a proud papa and not an ex-con.
He’s wearing a new suit, no doubt having planned to make his grand entrance during the wedding without clueing the rest of us in on his release date.
My mother’s behind him, glaring at us. We aren’t running into our father’s waiting arms like she did, and she’s not too happy. I love my mother. There’s no other person on the planet I adore more than her, but man, she doesn’t seem to have a grip or any willpower when it comes to my dad.
I turn around, glancing over at Lucio and pretending my mother isn’t giving us the evil eye. “Is he serious?”
Lucio doesn’t answer back. Just shakes his head, at a loss for words.
Papa clearly didn’t get the memo about our not being overly thrilled about his return.
The fact that our mother is asking for us to hire him on at Hook & Hustle—which means telling us, because there’s no saying no to Betty—just adds another layer of complication.
It sure as hell doesn’t help in the feelings department either.
Vinnie’s the first one to grab my dad, almost lifting him off the floor in a giant bear hug. “We missed you,” he tells him, like he’s speaking for all of us.
Which he’s not.
I remember a time when I felt like Vinnie. But after the third, or maybe it was the fourth, time we went through the prison release celebration bullshit, I became jaded.
Who wouldn’t be?
Saying goodbye to my father over and over again because he can’t follow the law gets tiring after a while.
When all my friends’ dads were attending Father-Daughter dances at school, I had one of my big brothers at my side because my dad was doing hard time for some stupid shit he easily could’ve avoided.
But he always chose crime over his family.
“Jesus,” Papa says to Vinnie as soon as his feet touch the floor again. He gazes up at his youngest son and grabs him by the shoulder, squeezing his muscles. “You’ve grown.” My father practically beams with pride.
There’s a smart comment on the tip of my tongue about missing Vinnie’s last growth spurt. Angelo elbows me, knowing I am about to open my big mouth and probably say something I’ll later regret.
Vinnie was in high school when my father last got popped and sentenced to seven years hard time.
Papa missed so many milestones. He wasn’t there when Vinnie won the state championship or became Illinois Quarterback of the Year during his senior year.
Both of which were things we celebrated as a family, minus my dad.
While my dad was away, Vinnie had a big growth spurt, adding a good six inches to his then-already six-foot frame. He’s a monster. Wide. Muscular. And everything a star football player should be.
“He’s a big boy,” Ma says. “Wait until you see him play.”
My papa’s staring at Vinnie with wide eyes. Maybe surprised at his size or sad at everything he’s missed. The reality of the time he’ll never get back has to hit him square in the face when seeing a full-grown man standing in front of him, instead of the teenage boy he left behind.
“I’ll be at every game,” my father promises.
It’s hard for me not to roll my eyes. This happens every time he gets out of the joint. He’s full of promises. He means well and probably thinks he’ll follow through, but he’s always pulled back into the criminal world and away from us.
Lucio leans forward and whispers, “Are we doing an over-under this time?”
The last two times he came out of prison a changed man, we bet on how long it would be before he ended up behind bars again. This time won’t be any different. So far, Angelo’s two for two, always nailing the exact amount of time before my father is arrested again.
“Years or months?” Angelo asks in a hushed tone.
“Years may be too optimistic,” I tell them. “I give him six months.”
“I say a year,” Lucio replies.
“Nine months, tops,” Angelo adds.
I’m not the only jaded Gallo kid. We know my father all too well and aren’t fooled by his false promises anymore. Vinnie, though, he’s still too innocent and hopeful to let our sourness seep into his system.
My father closes the space between us, arms outstretched like we’re having a grand homecoming and couldn’t wait to see him again.
I used to be a daddy’s girl a long time ago. There was a time when I’d leap into his arms and squeal with delight. She’s gone now, but the reality hasn’t quite caught up with my father.
“Look at my kids. So grown. So beautiful,” he says.
“Dad.” There’s no warmth in Angelo’s voice.
“Pop.” Lucio nods.
“Hey, Papa,” I say because I’ve never called him anything else to his face. “You look well.”
“Daphne, you’ve turned into a magnificent creature.”
“It wasn’t overnight,” I blurt out, getting in a small dig about how long he’s been gone.
He shakes his head, knowing he’s fucked up. “It won’t happen again. I’ll never go back there. I swear.”
My ma’s practically hanging on him, happier than all of us to have her man back at her side. She’s always been a sucker for my dad. I don’t know of another woman on the planet who would put up with his bullshit, but she does somehow.
“This is your new daughter-in-law, Delilah.” Ma dips her head toward Dee.
“You’re more beautiful than the photos,” my father says.
“It’s nice to finally meet you,” Delilah replies and runs her hand down the front of her gown, smoothing out the material.
She looks absolutely stunning today. Don’t get me wrong, Delilah is always beautiful. But there’s something about a bride on her wedding day that’ll always knock everyone’s socks off.