Chapter 35
Lincoln
One Year Ago
Paps was loved, there’s so many people in the house, waiting outside, and in the backyard. I’ve kept my eyes on Quinnly, knowing this is probably sending her into a stabby irritated spiral.
Naomi, for her part, has done a pretty good job holding her back. When anyone says anything stupid, Naomi’s hand clenches around Quinnly’s wrist and she glowers but doesn’t say anything back.
Which is a relief considering Quinnly has a tendency to say some out of pocket things.
“Lincoln Evander,” an older man, probably close to Cicero’s age, says from beside me. I noticed him earlier from a distance away, the Mafia King himself.
Conall Hemlock.
I nod, still keeping my gaze on Quinnly.
“I’ve been wondering when Cicero would introduce us,” he says, casting his eyes on the closed casket beside my Menace. “Shame it has to be this way.”
“He was a good man,” I agree with what Conall doesn’t voice. I get the impression he’s not one to hand out compliments often.
Creed and his brother Mack walk through the receiving line as Conall and I watch. Quinnly throws her arms around Creed, and I flex my fingers by my side. I know she doesn’t mean it affectionately. Still, I don’t like it.
“Ah,” Conall chuckles, “it seems Cicero wasn’t too far off at all. You do love her.”
Sliding my eyes his way, I nod, there’s no point in denying it. Eventually my Menace will be mine, just like I am hers.
“My family and hers have been friendly for generations,” he says, taking out a cigar from his pocket and lifting it in offering. I decline but he continues, “I hope my boys can say the same in the years to come.”
“Speak your mind, Hemlock,” my patience is wearing thin, and I’d prefer to watch Quinnly in silence.
He clears his throat and maneuvers in front of me, so we’re almost eye to eye. “Quinnly has asked me for a list of potential targets, in all fifty states. I don’t know what she plans to do with it, but I know Cicero would want you to know. I’m sorry for your loss.”
With a hand on my shoulder he leaves, weaving through the crowd out into the back yard. People have thinned quite a bit now, so I make my way back out the front door and wait by the window.
Quinnly and Naomi asked for a family only burial, so everyone here will have to leave at some point.
Naomi walks around, speaking to people like a good little hostess while Quinnly sits by Cicero’s casket and talks. People offer her a wide berth or pitying stares, which she either doesn’t notice, or chooses to ignore.
After all the guests have left, Naomi wraps Quinnly up in a hug, more for her own benefit than Quinnly’s, and the two of them follow the men from the funeral home out into the hearse.
Even though the graveyard is within walking distance, the casket is heavy so the hearse will drive to the front entrance and meet the girls there.
Just like I knew she would, Quinnly crawls into the back of the hearse with his casket and lays down. Naomi sighs but leaves her be, and walks the distance with the funeral men to wait.
At the gravesite, the men use a lift to get the casket into the concrete mausoleum before sealing it off with the etchings of his life.
Quinnly doesn’t cry–not like Naomi–as they offer their goodbyes, but her eyes gloss over, and how I wish, more than anything in the world, that I could hold her.
Even if she doesn’t understand why.