Chapter 2
TWO
CARMINE
In Brockton, Carmine Amato was enjoying a much rowdier Christmas, crammed around the table with his family. The sheer amount of food in front of them could feed an army. A whole sea bass sat in the middle. Dishes of pasta, risotto and antipasti all vied for position around it.
He’d grown up in this house. Not much had changed. His mother still had drawings they had all done at school framed on the kitchen wall. It had been years since he’d sat here with everyone. His heart was so full at that moment.
Carmine took a sip of his father’s favourite chianti and savoured it. Even when far away he found wine specialists that could get a bottle in when he wanted one. It had always been a taste which sparked memories of this place.
“It’s good to be home,” he said. “I’ve missed you all.”
His mother, Maria, next to him, clutched his hand. “I cannot believe I have all my babies around me for Christmas. It’s been too long.”
Carmine’s father, Stefano, occupied his usual place at the head of the table. Normally, Maria sat opposite him. However, Nonna Amato had graced them with her presence for the festive period this year and was claiming the position. Maria had no qualms deferring to the older generation.
Not that she would’ve had much of a choice.
Also crushed together were Carmine’s elder sister, Monica, his younger brother, Raoul and his wife, Donna.
If that had been it, they would have managed quite well.
Yet, Stefano and Maria hated to see people alone in the holidays.
This resulted in several of the staff from the family restaurant being invited for lunch.
They were on a picnic table in the lounge area.
La Piazza had been a staple on the Brockton high street for decades. Stefano burst with pride whenever he spoke about the business he’d built from scratch.
“I wish you’d come to Italy instead of Brockton,” Nonna said. “It’s time you got yourself a nice girl to settle down with. There are plenty in the village.”
Carmine blushed. Instead of telling his family the truth about his sexuality, he’d fled at nineteen to see the world.
Monica gave him a friendly wink. She was the only one who knew. He’d told her the night before he flew to Bangkok. He figured he wanted one member of the family to know who he really was. Also if she’d had a bad reaction to the news, he could fly away and never return.
Of course, Monica had hugged him and told him to stop being a worrier. Deep down he’d known she would understand.
“Let me get my practice set up first, Nonna,” Carmine said. “Then I’ll have some time. Maybe in the summer.”
The older lady waved him away. “Always an excuse. At least you didn’t marry an American, I suppose. Or worse, have children with one.”
She’d unwittingly fired a barb straight into his heart. There had been many reasons for coming home to the UK after almost twenty years. One major one being his ex, Arinze.
This time last year they had been in the desert. Just the two of them. Funny how things changed so rapidly.
Stefano reached for a deep fried arancini ball. Maria leapt forward and slapped his hand, making him drop it.
“Don’t even think about it.”
“But it’s Christmas,” he wailed.
“Yes and I want you to see many more.”
Stefano had always been able to sulk like a three-year-old. It got more comical the older he got.
“Maria is right,” Nonna declared. “Your father’s heart gave in when he was younger than you are now. I’m not going through that again.”
Stefano’s heart attack had been the other major reason for Carmine’s return. It had been a wake-up call that nothing is forever.
When Monica had contacted him with the news, he had felt so far away from them all. The flight had been hell while Stefano lay in a hospital bed. By the time he landed at Manchester airport, Carmine had made the decision to come home.
“How is the practice coming on?” Monica asked Carmine.
He wasn’t altogether happy with the spotlight being on him again.
“I have an office,” he said. “In the centre of Manchester. It’s nice enough. Now all I need are some clients.”
As an architect, he’d worked for one of the biggest agencies in Santa Monica, Los Angeles. During that time, he’d had the privilege of having lots of rich and celebrity clients. Something Maria had used as bragging rights amongst her friends.
He supposed starting from the bottom in Manchester might ruin that for her. Designing a local pub or shop didn’t have the same ring to it as a beachfront property. Beggars couldn’t be choosers. He would take anything at this point.
“He hasn’t even let me visit his new apartment,” Maria complained. “It will need a mother’s touch. I know how you boys live.”
“In the new year, Mama,” Carmine replied. “I promise.”
She tutted.
“Architect,” Stefano said. “Building rich people big buildings. It’s not the same as feeding a community. Is it, Raoul?”
Raoul had followed their father into the family business. All his childhood, Stefano had told Carmine that he would succeed him. To Stefano’s horror, Carmine rejected this offer, instead choosing to go to university in Edinburgh. Stefano had never fully forgiven him.
“No, Dad,” Raoul said, puffing his chest out.
He always acted as if he had one over on Carmine about working with Stefano. He’d conveniently forgotten he’d been the second choice. Far be it from Carmine to remind him. Well, until he needed to.
“That’s enough,” Maria warned.
Carmine smiled at her. He remembered the arguments around this very table when he’d declared his plans. Maria had supported her son in realising his dreams. She must’ve known that he would fly the nest. Yet, she was still prepared to make the sacrifice to see him happy.
“What are you doing for New Year’s Eve?” Monica asked.
Carmine could kiss her for changing the conversation.
“I’ll be working,” Raoul announced proudly.
“As usual,” Donna added.
“And I will come to help,” Stefano said.
This elicited another sigh from Maria. “The doctor warned you about overdoing it. You promised you were going to spend the evening with me and Nonna.”
The expression on Stefano’s face suggested he wanted to do anything but that.
“I always ring the new year in with the customers,” he said. “Why don’t you two come down?”
Nonna raised an eyebrow. “Last time you made us sit in the kitchen because there were no tables.”
Stefano cackled then saw the expression on his mother’s face and his face dropped.
“You’ll spend New Year’s here with us,” Nonna informed him. “And that’s the end of it.”
Carmine stifled a smirk. There was only one person on the earth who could stun his father into silence.
Monica frowned. “Anyway, I didn’t mean you, Raoul. Carmine, what about it? Anything exciting on the horizon?”
Raoul flushed. Poor thing still got so riled up. They hadn’t seen much of each other over the years. Carmine had half hoped he might be able to reconnect with his brother this time around. It appeared that wasn’t on the menu.
“No plans,” he replied. “Probably a takeaway and bed.”
It was a bit sad to admit he had no friends in the area anymore. Most of the people he went to school with had either moved out or were knee-deep in kids. He didn’t fancy hitting Canal Street in Manchester on his own.
“Come to my party,” she suggested.
“You don’t want your brother there.”
“I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t,” she replied.
It would beat sitting in his new apartment, thinking about past celebrations.
“Okay,” he said. “You’re on.”
One week later, Carmine woke up in his sister’s spare room. His head was pounding and a sudden wave of nausea meant he had to stay as still as humanly possible.
You’re thirty-seven years old. Why on earth did you think shots would be a good idea?
As the room came into proper focus, Carmine tentatively shifted. He absolutely would not be sick. If Monica or any of her friends heard him, he would always be known as her brother who couldn’t handle his drink.
Thankfully he’d brought a glass of water to bed. Summoning powers from deep in his soul, he reached for the glass and drank half in one go.
“Okay. That’s good,” he said to himself.
Tentatively he sat up properly. The room came in and out of focus.
What he really needed was caffeine and carbs. The water must’ve given him some kind of boost as he felt able to extract himself from under the duvet.
Trying not to rush, he sat on the edge of the bed. Everything swirled and for a second he thought he might pass out. All he wanted was to be on his sofa with a million calories and mindless television.
This must be achieved. Whatever the cost.
Now he had a clear mission secured in his mind, he soldiered on by putting last night’s clothes on.
“Bloody hell, it’s been a while since I did this,” he muttered to himself.
In his youth, doing the walk of shame after a night out had been par for the course. The price one paid for waking up next to a handsome stranger.
Once clothed, he caught sight of himself in the mirror. His straight dark hair was mussed everywhere, and he had shocking bags under his eyes. He groaned.
“You’re getting too old for this shit.”
Last year, he and Arinze had hosted their traditional New Year’s Eve party at their house in Encino. There had been the odd famous face there. No one his mother would have been that eager to brag about, sadly. Mainly US television stars.
Still, it didn’t do to dwell. Besides, the aroma of fresh coffee wafting up the stairs like a siren’s call meant he must obey.
He tottered down the stairs and into the kitchen.
Monica was there in a bathrobe. Her hair piled on top of her head and held in place by what appeared to be a pair of knickers.
She also had the family raven locks. Carmine always fantasised that his would be so beautiful if he let it grow. Not that he ever had.
“Morning,” he said.
“Morning,” she replied. “You look rough.”
Carmine sank down at the kitchen table. “You’re not exactly runway ready yourself.”
“I presume you want some coffee?”
“Oh God yes please.”
Monica busied herself pouring the lifesaving nectar into two cups.
He watched her. She’d visited him quite a few times in Los Angeles.
However, he liked the idea of living close to her again.
Even if he would have to watch her where alcohol was concerned.
There was no way he was suffering this on a regular basis.
“I hope Raoul wasn’t overwhelmed last night,” Carmine said. “Nonna wasn’t for letting Papa go.”
“He reckons he’s the big man,” Monica replied. “It won’t hurt him to feel the burn. He’s lived in Dad’s shadow for long enough.”
Monica had achieved a first in her psychotherapy degree. Stefano and Maria had played the proud parents but in reality, they were waiting for her to settle down with a decent man. They were old-fashioned, he supposed.
“You throw a decent party, sis,” Carmine said. “I like your friends.”
She placed the cups down and sat opposite him.
“You got on well with Samantha.”
“She’s great,” Carmine said.
“Do you remember offering her a job?”
The worst thing about getting drunk were the flashbacks. Now Monica had mentioned it, he did have a vague recollection of chatting with Samantha about his new business venture.
Why the fuck had he offered her a job? He didn’t even have any clients yet.
“Oh balls,” he said. “Did she accept?”
“She certainly did,” came a voice from the hallway.
He snapped to attention to see Samantha coming into the room. Annoyingly she looked fabulous. She was still in her floral silk pyjamas. Even so her red hair had been perfectly scraped into a bun. Some light make-up gave her a much more human appearance than Carmine and his sister.
This was a woman who never dropped her standards. She was inspiring and terrifying in equal measure.
“Morning, babe,” Monica said. “Tea or coffee?”
“Oh coffee,” she said, sitting next to Carmine. “Morning, handsome boss.”
Anxiety swept through him. How would he pay her? He had come with a decent amount of cash from America. Even so, he should never have offered her a job yet. It might be months before he got any work.
“I might not have been entirely sober when I said that,” Carmine said. “I’m not saying I don’t need an assistant. It’s just…”
He stopped to take a long swig of the scalding-hot coffee.
“Don’t sweat it,” Samantha cut in. “You told me you didn’t have any clients. Here’s a deal for you. Hire me for a month to get all your admin systems in place. If you haven’t got any work by then, I’ll go off on my merry way. If you have. Well, you’re stuck with me.”
It was a decent offer. Carmine had always been gifted at design. Organisation not so much. Besides, it would be nice to have some company.
“You have yourself a deal.”
They clinked mugs.