Chapter 8
EIGHT
CARMINE
Monica drove like a maniac as they sped from the city to Brockton. Carmine held on to the door handle and closed his eyes.
“What’s the matter with you?” Monica asked.
“Can you slow down? We’re not late. Bloody hell, Mon.”
The car lurched as Monica braked sharply. After slowly opening his eyes, he saw they were coming up to a traffic jam.
Oh well. Better than nothing.
“When did you get so nervous?”
“Probably a minute after you got your licence.”
She patted his leg. “When we get clear of this lot, I’ll go easy. Promise.”
The way the cars were backed up, it didn’t look like they would be going anywhere for the short-term at least. It gave his heartrate a chance to return to normal.
“I’d better text Mum,” he said. “Or we’ll ruin dinner.”
He said the last bit in his mother’s mixed accent. Equal parts Italian and northern English.
Monica burst out laughing.
“She’d still slap your legs if she heard you.”
Carmine smirked. He’d always entertained the family with impressions of his mother. He suspected she secretly loved it.
“What have you been up to?” Monica asked, reaching into the glove compartment.
“Working.”
“Liar,” she replied sharply.
“What do you mean?”
Monica extracted a packet of chocolate Rolos from the mess. With difficulty she shoved the drawer closed.
“Do you ever clean this thing?” Carmine asked.
“You can get the train, you know.”
She slowly unwrapped the sweets.
“That isn’t the punishment you think it is.”
“Go on then,” she said. “Tell me everything.”
“What do you know?”
She grinned and selected a chocolate before offering one to him.
“My source—”
“Samantha.”
“Tells me that you’ve got a man on the hook. I swear I know nothing more than that.”
Hmmm interesting. Samantha hasn’t totally sold me down the river over cocktails. She may as well have though.
Monica was the nosiest person he’d ever met. She would try every trick in the book to get the information out of him. He may as well comply.
“There is someone,” he said.
It sickened him that he couldn’t fight the smirk that appeared on his face. It soon dropped as Monica screeched.
“This is so exciting,” she cried.
“Jesus, Monica. My hearing!”
“What’s he like? Does he have a job? How did you meet?”
The interrogation would be thorough and ruthless. Carmine was trapped at her mercy. His sister had none.
“Okay, I surrender,” he said, holding his hands up. “If I give you all the details, do you promise not to squeal like that again?”
She snatched the chocolates away from him. “I promise nothing.”
“It’s Noah Farman.”
Carmine braced for impact.
The next noise that came out of his sister, Carmine was sure only cats and his own poor eardrums could hear. He sat patiently chewing on the chocolate and toffee treat while she got herself under control.
“Are you joking?” she asked eventually.
“No.”
“You’ve slept with Noah Farman?”
“On more than one occasion. It’s not just sex.”
She sat in her seat and stared out at the car in front.
“Bloody hell, Carmine,” she said. “Dad will lose his shit.”
“Dad doesn’t need to know. Neither does Mum or Raoul. I mean it, Monica.”
She took his hand. “You’re dating a footballer. How long do you think you can keep it under wraps? Look at what happened last season.”
His world was imploding. When he’d lived in Los Angeles, everything had been nicely compartmentalised.
“I was seeing Arinze for long enough,” he said.
His ex was an action film star who kept his sexuality secret from the world. They’d managed perfectly well. Until Arinze had bedded half the extras on one of his movies and word had got back to Carmine.
“That’s different. The media here will soon work it out.”
“What am I supposed to do then?”
“Tell them.”
Carmine shuddered.
“You know how disappointed Dad was when I told him I wasn’t going to work at the bloody restaurant. I can’t do that to him again.”
Monica took his other hand. He stared into her eyes. Carmine had always been closer to Monica than Raoul. Even when she’d been an annoying sister demanding that he took her with him when he met his friends. He’d always complied.
“Carmine. Dad loves you. He will understand.”
“Maybe one day.”
“As for Raoul. He can fuck off. Who cares what he thinks?”
Carmine cared a lot. Being with his family was a joy he hadn’t expected. The risk that this could be taken away at a moment’s notice terrified him.
“One day.”
They weren’t too late when they got to their parents’ house. Monica remained true to her word and kept within the speed limit once they got onto the open road once more.
As soon as they arrived, their mother half dragged them through the house to the dining room where the old table was facing another battle to stay up under the weight of food. One day it would just give up and fall to the floor.
“Mama,” Carmine said, holding her close. “Are you expecting an army?”
“Humour me,” she replied. “I never get to cook for my family.”
Monica shook her head. “Apart from the whole of Christmas and every Sunday since Goldenboy came home.”
She received a gentle swat on the head for her comment.
“Hush,” their mother said. “Jealousy is not an attractive quality.”
Maria’s buffets were legendary. When Carmine had been a child, she had catered for most local events. Weddings. Christenings. Funerals. It had been a great use of the restaurant kitchens between the lunch and dinner rushes.
Now she limited herself to family affairs. Even if Stefano might not be ready to give up work yet, Maria was more than happy to.
Carmine grabbed a plate and began to load it up. Raoul was one step ahead of him.
“Good afternoon, brother,” he said.
“Wow. Mr Formal,” Carmine replied. “How’s tricks?”
Raoul grabbed a few bruschetta. They looked so good that Carmine followed suit.
“Busy. The restaurant is firing on all cylinders. You’ve not been in for a while.”
There always had to be a barbed comment from Raoul.
“Raoul’s thinking about opening a new place,” Donna said.
She linked arms with her husband and stared triumphantly at Carmine. Once again they appeared to be claiming victory over a battle Carmine had no idea he’d been fighting.
“Great,” Carmine replied. “If you need any plans doing, give me a shout.”
Raoul raised an eyebrow. “Free?”
“Of course.”
“I thought you only focused on footballers now.”
Carmine whirled round to his sister. “Monica.”
“Hey, I never said anything.”
“Relax,” Raoul said. “It’s all around town that you’ve been working with Noah Farman. Why didn’t you tell us?”
Carmine tried to calm down but he didn’t want this conversation. Suddenly the room had become very warm. He fiddled with his collar.
“It was supposed to be confidential until the place is built.”
Stefano came and clapped Carmine on the shoulder. “He seems to be a decent lad. I’m sure he won’t mind us knowing.”
Carmine could sense Monica watching him intently. He absolutely would not meet her gaze.
“You’re right,” Carmine said. “He is a great guy and speaks very highly of you. Apparently the whole team love you.”
Stefano puffed his chest out with pride. Carmine’s heart melted. This man had loved him fiercely since the day he was born. Sometimes that love became overwhelming. Even so, Carmine wouldn’t trade it for anything.
“Why don’t you sleep with him,” Raoul said. “If you think he’s so amazing.”
“That’s enough,” Stefano roared and swatted Raoul over the head.
Their mother appeared from the kitchen and slapped Raoul on the arm. It was a parental pincer attack.
“Less of that,” she barked. “Carmine is allowed to be excited that his business is taking off. You don’t have sole access to Brockton soccer club, you know.”
Raoul reddened. Carmine resisted the urge for a victorious grin. They were regressing twenty years. All three siblings had played one-upmanship where their parents were concerned since birth. Old habits died hard.
“Besides,” Monica said. “Famous people aren’t exactly new for Carmine, are they?”
“That’s right,” Stefano added. “Can’t you invite a few of your American friends over? It would be great for the restaurant.”
Maria threw her hands up. “Always the bloody restaurant.”
Carmine sat in one of the armchairs in the conservatory. Monica took the sofa beside him. They’d always favoured this spot at family parties. It gave a perfect vantage point to clock everything going on and pass judgement on the outfits.
“I wouldn’t say anything,” she whispered. “You can trust me.”
He squeezed her leg. “I know. Sorry. Raoul winds me up.”
“Pah,” she replied. “Ignore him. He’s threatened by you coming home.”
“All the more reason to keep my mouth shut about me. He would have a bloody field day.”
The family time passed without any further hitches. Maria changed her focus and started grilling Donna about when a grandchild would make an appearance. Luckily she’d been a member of the family long enough to know how to deflect such questions.
By the time Carmine got to his apartment, he desperately needed some non-family company. He took his phone out and dialled.
“Hey, sexy,” he said. “Want to come over and get naked?”
“I can’t,” Noah replied. “I need to rest.”
A stab of rejection lodged in Carmine’s chest.
You’re being ridiculous. He’s a sportsman.
“Okay,” Carmine said. “Perhaps we could do something soon?”
“It’s a tough week with training and stuff. I’m free Friday afternoon?”
“Friday it is.”
He finished the call and flopped down on his bed.
Why was it that the more sex he had, the more he wanted? When he was single, he’d have the odd hookup. That sort of thing didn’t really interest him. Now he felt like a bloody teenager with raging hormones.
Friday seemed light years away.
At least Samantha would take his mind off things at work. Once he’d told her off for giving his secrets away to his sister.
His thoughts rested on Monica’s words. Maybe it was time to tell his family. He had no chance of living a full life in the UK if he continued to hide it.
Then Raoul’s leering mug popped into his mind.
Besides things were too new with Noah. He certainly wasn’t about to inflict his whole family on the poor guy.
Not yet.