10. The Wedding
The Wedding
A driano
“You’re not in position,” Bianca says, glaring at me over her clipboard. “I sent you the schedule last night. Didn’t you study it at all?”
I frown at her as I adjust my tie in the mirror. “Not really.”
“It’s your wedding day , you idiot,” she says, exasperated. “Do you have any idea how hard this was to coordinate? Between our annoying family and the Willing-Morris nightmare, this has been absolutely horrendous.”
“You did a nice job.”
“You haven’t even seen it yet!” She stares at me like I’ve gone insane. “The car to the church is waiting downstairs. You should’ve left five minutes ago. Now everything will be pushed back?—”
“I’ll tell Luca to drive fast.”
“ Drive fast . Gee, what a great idea, as if I hadn’t already accounted for that in my timing!” She throws up her hands and starts pacing. “I’ve already fielded a dozen calls in the last half hour. The florist, the band, the bartenders. A million fucking problems.”
I watch my sister stomp around my room, looking like she’s going to burn the place down. It’d be funny if it weren’t such a pain in the ass.
“You’re acting like this is your wedding day.”
“It might as well be,” she says through her teeth. She storms over to my dresser, pulls open the bottom drawer, and fishes around until she comes up with a bottle of whiskey I keep hidden in there.
“That’s a hundred-year-old—” I don’t get to finish. She pops out the cork and takes a swig.
“You wanna finish that sentence, asshole?” She stares me down and tilts the bottle. “I’ll dump this stuff out, I swear.”
“At least drink it,” I murmur and finish adjusting my suit. “How do I look?”
She softens a touch and puts the bottle away. “You look good.” She comes over and tugs at one of my sleeves. “Do you want to see him before you leave?”
I glance at the wall. Dad’s room is on the other side of the building, but it’s like I can feel him. “He won’t know either way.”
“But you will.” She doesn’t look at me. “I know it’s hard. I won’t judge you if you decide you can’t. But I think you should.”
“What did you tell people? About why he won’t be there?”
“Sick.” She shrugs slightly and tucks her clipboard under her arm. “It’s true.”
“We won’t be able to hide how bad he’s gotten for much longer. The Capos are already asking questions.”
“That’s why you’re rushing into this, right? Get a good, pretty wife from a solid family?—”
“How do you know she’s pretty?”
“I did my research, you idiot.” She punches my arm lightly. “Anyway, you’re ready. We both know you are.”
I look back at the mirror. I see so much of my father staring back. His eyes, his cheeks, his jaw. Even his hair and his nose. But I have my mother’s temperament, much colder, much more calculating, while my father was a passionate man when he was in his prime, a lot like Bianca is now.
She’s right. I’m ready. I’ve been ready for years, ever since Father was diagnosed and I started taking more and more of his responsibilities. But it’s one thing to be the power behind the power and another to take on the official mantle of the Don.
“I’ll meet you at the car,” I tell her and lean in to give her a quick kiss on the cheek. “Thanks for your work.”
“No problem.” She punches me again. “Don’t take too long.”
I stride down the hall. My father’s sitting in his chair at his small table, watching an old Western on his little TV. His nurse, Donatella, is with him. She casually feeds him a spoonful of applesauce, and that little gesture strikes me right in the chest.
My father was a powerful man. He was physically imposing. Nobody in Philadelphia ever stood up to him and survived for long. They say my old man killed with his bare hands just because it struck more fear in the hearts of his enemies.
But looking at him now, he’s just a shell, getting fed like a baby.
“Hello, Papa,” I say, sitting beside him. I lean forward, looking into his eyes. He turns to me, frowning a bit, and mumbles to himself. He takes off his watch, fumbling with it, and begins the arduous process of getting it back on.
“His new habit,” Donatella says gently, watching him struggle. “Don’t help.”
I steady myself. The Marino Famiglia needs strength right now. What’s happening to my father is beyond our control. Only God can intervene now. It’s better if I move on.
Only I can’t help but remember what he used to be.
“I’m getting married,” I tell him, speaking just loud enough to be heard over the television. “Her name’s Lucille. She’s pretty. I think you’d like her.”
Nothing. Only a grumble as he works on getting the watch strapped again. His fingers aren’t dexterous enough, but he keeps on trying.
“I’m leaving now. I wish you could be there, Papa. I’ll see you later tonight though.”
As I stand, he looks over. For a moment, his eyes are sharp.
It’s one of those rare, brief glimpses of the man he used to be.
His lips press together and he leans forward, and I swear he recognizes me.
His mouth opens, and I desperately want him to give me something.
Advice, a warning, even just an acknowledgment that he knows who I am and still loves me.
But he only grunts and shakes his head. “Fucking watch,” he says and goes back to work.
Donatella smiles sadly as I turn and walk away.
Leaving my future behind.
Lucy
“You will not mess this up.” Grandmother stares at me, back held straight, chin tilted up. “You will walk down the aisle. You will say the vows. You will even kiss that man. Afterwards, you will smile and act as though you’re happy about all this. Do you understand me?”
I look at myself in the mirror. A beautiful white wedding dress drapes from my body. Kennedy picked it out and had it custom-made for me. When she said she was doing it, I figured she’d choose something inappropriate. That would be typical Kennedy.
Instead, this is classic. It’s sleek and simple. Almost conservative. I can tell Grandmother approves. My hair’s up in a twisted pattern with a few wispy strands left down, giving me an innocent look. I even have a veil. It’s as traditional as it gets. Right in line with my family’s standards.
“I understand,” I say and focus on my grandmother’s face, looming over my shoulder. She looks almost as dour as I feel.
“This is important.” Her voice is clipped and hard. If I thought I might get some kind of maternal advice, I was sorely mistaken. She was married for over forty years, right up until Grandfather died when I was fifteen. She knows what it means to be a wife.
While I have absolutely zero clue.
But that’s not the sort of woman she is.
“I know how much it means to the family.” I stare at her in the mirror. “I won’t let you down.”
She seems slightly surprised. Her lips press harder. But she eventually gives me a curt nod. “Good. Be downstairs in five minutes.” She turns away but hesitates. “You look adequate. Kennedy did a nice job.” Then she stalks out of the room.
Adequate. That’s the best I’ll get from that woman.
I sigh as my shoulders slump. I feel tears welling in my throat. Why am I about to cry? I knew this was coming, but now that the moment is here, it’s like the reality is hitting me all over again.
If I had a choice, I wouldn’t go anywhere near that church.
Maybe I have some kind of strange, hypersexual connection with Adriano, but that’s not a real foundation for a relationship, let alone for a marriage.
If only I could stand up to my grandmother, I’d rip off this dress, throw on a pair of sweats, and run .
But everyone knows I’m a pathetic mess.
“You look amazing, you know.” Kennedy walks over. She drapes an arm around my shoulders. She’s in a navy-blue dress. My only bridesmaid, per my request, and I guess Grandmother was in a good mood when that got approved.
“I don’t feel amazing.”
“I know this sucks.” She leans her head on my shoulder. “But you’re strong, you know that?”
“I’m just about the least strong person in the world.”
“Completely untrue. You survived Helena. You got through all that ugly ridicule when your family’s financial situation leaked. You’ll get through this too.”
“Is that really something to brag about? I keep on surviving all the bad stuff? Anyone can keep breathing.”
“That’s just not true and you know it.” She hugs me tightly. “Come on. I’ll be with you the whole time.”
I take a deep breath. Maybe she’s right.
My family has been through a lot. A year after Grandfather died, a bunch of documents showing just how much money the hedge fund had lost were leaked to the press.
We lost all our friends and social connections; we were nearly ruined when the banks turned their backs on us too.
Then Mom and Dad had their little accident.
Grandmother held us together. Just barely, with spit, tape, and glue, but here we are.
Patched and moving forward.
Now it’s my turn to do my duty.
So why does it feel so terrible?
“Kennedy? You’re fired.”
She smiles sadly. “Good. I was waiting for you to say that.”
“Are you still my friend?”
“Of course I am. I always will be, no matter what.” She hugs tighter. “But please don’t actually fire me. This is the best job I’ve ever had.”
“As a wedding present, I’ll let you stick around.”
I want to believe her. I really, really do.
But I learned the hard way that people aren’t always what they seem.
Adriano
The church is crowded. Bianca storms around the place like a field marshal giving orders.
It’s organized chaos as the guests file in and get comfortable.
Expensive cars are parked out front, and everyone is wearing their best clothes.
Diamonds glitter on throats. Custom suits drape over old, flabby bodies.
It’s an odd mix of people.
There are the society folk here because of the Willing-Morris family. Rich and powerful men from families with lines that extend all the way across the Atlantic. There are politicians, titans of industry, financial wizards, and dozens of socialites.