6. Saverio
6
SAVERIO
M y father was a womanizer, and his virility was unmatched. He sowed his seed recklessly, creating an endless parade of half-siblings who shared my blood but not my name. Sometimes, I lose count of all the brothers and sisters I have because he knocked up so many women outside of his marriage to my mother. There’s always a new sibling popping up, reminding me that the bastards have to be cared for in the same manner as the legitimate children. So once a month, we gather for a tense and uncomfortable dinner, exchanging life updates while anxiously checking our family trees to make sure there are no hidden branches. The fear of unknowingly sleeping with a blood relative looms over us like a dark cloud, threatening to rain down shame and disgust on our already strained relationships.
The half-siblings affectionately refer to themselves as the Bastard Brigade, a name that carries both pride and bitterness. I’m included in their group chat, but I tend to stay on the sidelines, silently observing. I only stay active because I carry on our father’s legacy, and I would hate for them to feel slighted because dear ol’ dad didn’t leave them anything.
“I love bastard dinner,” Raffaele stage whispers as we stand on Lilly Hockney’s doorstep. “I hope Noah brings chicken wings.” My stomach grumbles; I can taste the savory spices and smell the charred barbecue sauce already.
One year, bastard dinner fell on Super Bowl Sunday. Noah made buffalo wings, and Raffaele has been begging him for the recipe ever since. My brothers and sisters love Raffaele, even if I’m not always fond of him. “Every month, I bring you to bastard dinner. And every month, I tell myself to stop bringing you to bastard dinner.”
“And then the next month, you invite me again. It’s a great system we’ve got going.”
A second later, the front door swings open, and Lilly stands there with a smile, our father’s eyes staring back at me. “Saverio!” She greets me with open arms. “I’m so excited you could make it!” Her dark brown eyes sparkle with excitement and warmth as she greets us.
Lilly Hockney is the only half-sibling I like. She’s a criminal defense lawyer that I’ve considered putting on the payroll a dozen times, but she’s made it clear she wants nothing to do with the Family in that way . I respect her wishes because she’s good at what she does. And frankly, if I ever need a criminal defense lawyer for personal reasons, I don’t want to burn any bridges.
But the others, I only tolerate.
Noah Strider and his sister, Crystal, loathe and detest me. They think it’s wrong of me not to share my father’s wealth with them, but they don’t realize that he wasn’t the billionaire everyone believed him to be. It was my hard work and strategic decisions that transformed our family business into the successful empire it is today.
Then there’s Kristopher Tate, with his tousled brown hair and wide-eyed enthusiasm, who wants to be just like me. I’d say he’s the little brother I never had, but plot twist: I have five of them. And dealing with Kristopher on top of all of them makes me cranky.
“I brought Raffaele,” I smile politely at Lilly. “I know he and Ginger have been hitting it off lately.”
Ginger Emerson was aptly named for her fiery red hair, chosen by her mother as a playful nod to her Irish heritage. But there is more to Ginger than just her appearance. Her personality matches the intensity of her crimson locks, filled with passion and determination, unafraid to stand up and fight for what she believes in. She appeals to Raffaele’s desire to tame and break a wild horse.
Lilly ushers us inside, her silk dress swishing softly as she moves. Bryce and Adelita stand by the warm glow of the electric fireplace, their hands wrapped around crystal glasses filled with amber liquid. Their faces are set in disapproving scowls as they shoot us glares. “Ginger is going to be late,” Lilly tells Raffaele. “The family she nannies for is running late. They dropped their son off at college in Nebraska this weekend, then proceeded to go out drinking with him last night.” She rolls her eyes in exasperation, her hands gesturing wildly as she finishes her story. “Blah, blah, blah. It’s a whole thing. Gin is upset, but she’ll be here a little later.”
The others get caught up in small talk while Raffaele makes a beeline for the kitchen, and I grow bored standing here with nothing to do. Though the bastards have said my brothers and sisters are invited to these dinners, my legitimate siblings have never been interested in getting to know the Bastard Brigade. The only one who cared was Lucrezia, and she’s no longer around.
A sudden, stabbing pang of guilt jolts through my chest like a lightning strike. I instinctively reach for my heart, trying to soothe the ache, but only end up drawing more attention to myself.
“Can I get you something, Saverio?” Lilly’s brow furrows with genuine concern, her features softening with worry.
“A drink would be great.” I smile past the pain—it’s mental, anyway. “Just a little acid reflux or something,” I shrug.
Lilly’s lips part in preparation to protest, presumably to say that alcohol will make my heartburn worse. But then, with a decisive snap, she turns and makes her way towards the kitchen.
I reach into my pocket and draw out my phone, its sleek, black screen reflecting the dim light around me. With a tap of my thumb, I open my recent texts and scan through them until I find an apology from my siblings. They won’t be here. It’s fine, I remind myself. I didn’t expect them to show up anyway.
With nothing to do and no one I really want to talk to, I check Lucia’s location. I’m surprised to find her a few miles away at the Terlizzi compound. I know the Terlizzis meet for Sunday dinner, but Lucia is an infrequent guest. I wonder how she’s doing.
After returning home late from Topeka the other night, I texted her, but she never responded. The next day, I followed up with another message, but once again, I was met with silence. Even two days ago, when I reached out to ask about my request, the only answer I received was stubborn quietness. Frowning, I make a mental note to call her later. She may be avoiding me now, but she can’t keep it up forever.
Lilly returns a few moments later with a glass of whiskey and a large ice cube, just how I like it. “You know,” she says in a low voice so the others can’t hear, “alcohol will only make your acid reflux worse.” A hint of concern creeps into her tone as she leans in closer so our siblings don’t overhear us.
I smile because I know her warning comes from a place of affection. None of my full-blood siblings have shown such care towards me, making Lilly’s actions all the more special. “I’ve got some Tums in the car if I need them,” I reassure her, “but thank you.”
“Anytime. How’s Konza Elite going?” Lilly asks about my development company. “I heard you guys broke ground on a new senior center just outside Manhattan. Congratulations!”
This is why Lilly is the only half-sibling I like; she’s the only one who bothers to stay informed about current events. The others are content with mindless distractions and shallow conversation, but Lilly always knows what’s happening around Manhattan.
I guess Kristopher owns the most popular bar in Aggieville, and he’s involved with the Aggieville Business Association. But even he can’t hold a stimulating conversation the way Lilly can.
“Thanks,” I reply. “That was a bitch to get approved.”