Chapter 21
Chapter Twenty-One
Waverly
It’s a family dinner night. Correction, it’s a Four Families dinner, and I’m supposed to go to Lukas’s place after. There’s an unusual amount of crack addled butterflies in my stomach thinking about going over there.
Walking into the Four Families event brings the same amount of anxiety as always. It’s hosted by the Russians this time. Uri’s mom redecorated when she moved back in and it’s a lot less tacky than it was years ago—more quiet luxury, less gangster glam of the 70s and 80s.
I take my coat off and hang it on the hook. The parents should be in the fancy room, like they normally are, and I hear an explosion of laughter from the kitchen. That’s supposed to be our place.
Resentment is pushed aside when I’m greeted with seventeen smiling faces. The whole crew is here. “Waverly!” Izzy shouts and jumps off her stool. I smell the wine on her breath as she wraps her arms around me. “Yay! You’re here.”
Dad comes over, puts his hand on my back, and kisses my forehead. Sheila smiles and gives me a huge wave before putting her glass on the counter and trekking around the kitchen island to give me a hug.
Um. This is weird.
Then Sheila whispers, “I’m sorry about you and Adam.”
Oh…
They all know. Awesome. Fantastic. “You all hated him?” I notice the expensive bottles of wine. They started celebrating without me, and because of me.
Dad shrugs. “You can do so much better.”
Izzy’s older brother, Donny, swallows. “We heard you flicked him in the nuts. Ice cold, Wave. Would’ve been kinder to shoot him.”
“He doesn’t deserve kindness.” Uri finishes the last mouthful of wine in his glass. “No, I hated him.” He glares at me across the room, kind enough not to give me his ‘I told you so’ face. Instead, he eats a mini quiche. “I hated him as much as I hate going to the pig farm.”
“What? Why?” I loved the pig farm as a kid. Normally it was just me and Dad. On the car ride, we would sing Rent and Wicked at the top of our lungs. When we got to the farm, Dad would let me play with the piglets. They were cute and happy. I wish I had enough mental strength and commitment to become a vegetarian, but that shit would never fly in my household. Plus, bacon tastes too damn good. “I mean, I guess it’s sad they kill the baby pigs.”
The room fills with discomfort. People look away to check their phones, grab food, and fill up their wine glasses.
Oh no. I stepped in something again. My voice cracks. “Why didn’t you like the pig farm?”
Uri waves his hand. “Oh, it doesn’t matter.”
There’s another, more desperate, whimper. “Why didn’t you like the pig farm?”
It’s Dimitri who answers the question—he has no filter. “Pigs eat everything. Including bone.”
OH. Oh no. And Dad was always weird about opening the trunk of the car…
I hang my head. “Dad, how many times did we go to the farm to dump a body?”
Dad pinches his lips together and gives a little shrug. “Not as many as Izzy and Donny.”
Nothing about that sentence makes me feel better at all. How many other family secrets did they keep from me? How many crimes was I an accomplice in?
Awesome.
Before Izzy can question her dad, he opens another bottle of wine and says, “Love ya, pumpkin.”
The group starts to break into side conversations when Dimitri jolts forward, reaches into his coat pocket, and pulls out a cellphone. It’s not like the ones we have. Clearly it's a burner. He makes a hasty exit into the back yard. I guess if you lived in Russia, our winter isn’t that big of a deal.
Uri tracks his retreat then locks eyes with me. Oh, I’m not done with this conversation. “So if you hated Adam, why didn’t you say anything? Any of you.”
This time, Izzy’s Dad speaks up. “We don’t have a great track record when we get involved with our kid’s love lives. After what happened to Uri, we all decided it was better to accept our kids for who they are and pick up the pieces if need be.”
When Uri came out, his father didn’t take it too well. He sent Uri to go live with his uncle in Russia. It was my second heart break in a year. He was gone for years before there was a massacre. He, Dimitri, and Ian were the only survivors. For one horrific week, we thought Uri was dead. Alana was sent on a body retrieval mission, but came home with Uri and his septic gunshot wound. She saved his life and the Russian mob has owed her ever since.
Uri laughs and points to his stomach. “Yeah, I have the scars to prove it.” I hate how blasé he is about it. It was in the top three worst weeks of my life.
Uri and his dad mended their bonds around the time Adam and I were getting serious. I guess the story tracks.
Uri’s dad scoffs. “Do you want laser treatment for the scars? I already told you I’d pay for it.”
“Nah, I want the stuff Alana gets. Who knows how many times she’s been shot at or stabbed? Not a single fucking scratch on her.”
“The Olympians pay for it, and the treatment won’t be legal for another twenty years,” Lance supplies.
He works for Alana, is her best friend, and has known her longer than anyone else. And, apparently, when he gets a little tipsy, he spills the tea on her too.
Dimitri comes back in, and he’s doing something I’ve never seen him do before. Smiling. Big smile, ear to ear. When he isn’t all broody and scary, he’s super hot. His smile changes everything about his face.
“Good news?” Uri asks.
“Da,” Dimitri says. “I wasn’t expecting the call.” He starts and stops, his smile fades and he’s back to being all broody again. “It was our last one.”
Uri nods. “Did her paperwork go through?”
“Da. She’s free from him, but still trapped.” He grabs a wine bottle and is about to finish it off.
Uri says, “Waverly, I need you to get a message to Alana. Speak it, or write it out, but burn it afterwards.”
“Oh, like black ops spy stuff, huh?” I laugh, but Uri doesn’t, and neither does Dimitri. “Oh, shit.” My tummy twists, I’m about to be invited into the fold. “What’s the message?”
“Dimitri needs another burner.”
How obvious and underwhelming.
Uri says, “Are you seeing that new boy of yours?”
Dimitri smirks. “Yes, I like him way more than the other guy.” He pauses for a second and adds, “I saved twenty dollars on a baseball bat.”
“Huh?”
I’m not in the fold nearly as much as I thought I was. And I’m one hundred percent sure I don’t want to be.
Donny finishes his beer and slams it on the counter. “Wave, walk me to the car.” He grabs his jacket from the back of the chair and motions to the garage. As the guys go, Donny’s the most carefree, albeit indifferent to me.
I walk beside him until we get to his sports car. It’s terrible in the snow, and I told him that when he bought it years ago. He says nothing until he opens the driver’s door. “Listen, Wave, do you want to know the real reason we didn’t let you join the family business?”
“I figured it was for my safety.”
Donny shakes his head. “No, it’s for ours.” He slides into the driver’s seat. “You’ve always been smarter than the rest of us. You see things differently and problem solve in ways the guys can’t. Truth is, Izzy getting pregnant was the best thing for the family. With her out of the picture, it made it easier to ice you out.”
“Well, fuck you too.” I slam the car door on him.
He starts the engine and rolls down the window, grabbing my arm. “You don’t get it. The men in these families live in terror.”
I guess it makes sense, between all the enemies and dangers, paranoia seems like a logical outcome.
Donny sighs. “We are terrified of the women in this family because they’re smarter and stronger than us. And you, you’re the smartest of them all.” He pauses, then adds, “Except for the pig farm thing. Geeze, Wave, why didn’t you see that coming?”