Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
Joaquin
“Tío, I’ve never been so terrified. Not even when it was Papá.”
It’s rare I speak aloud what happened to my father.
It’s not like the image of the bullet going through his forehead and another through his heart is ever far from my mind, but I don’t enjoy talking about it.
I think everyone understands how traumatizing it was, so even our enemies don’t speak about it.
They blame it for turning my brothers and me into psychopaths, but hypocrisy abounds.
We’re all mildly sociopathic, but psychopaths is a stretch.
“I can only imagine, sobrino. And Tricia is all right?”
“Yes. The doctors say she needs bed rest for a few days until they’re certain she’s out of the woods.”
I’m standing in the hallway while Tre speaks with her family. As much as I want to climb up the wall not knowing what they’re discussing, I’m attempting—the struggle is real, yo—to give them privacy. Not that I’m a control freak or anything.
“What do you need from us, Quino?”
“No lo sé, mamá. I wish Tía Margherita or Madeline was here. I’d feel way better if one of them examined Tre.” I don’t know, Mama.
I lapse into Spanish but remember Tía Elle can’t follow an entire conversation yet. Even though Colombian Spanish is usually considered a moderate speed, once we get going, there’d be no way for her to keep up. I want her opinion since she knows the Vizzinis better than the rest of us.
“Quino, she can request to see her records at any time. She can take a pic and send it to Madeline or me.”
“Gracias, tía.” Thank you, Aunt.
Mierda.
Shit.
There I go again. At least I know Tía Elle can understand that much.
While I usually think in English if I’m speaking it, when I’m alone, I think in Spanish. I use it so much every day, it’s still my default.
“Joaquin, can you hear any of the conversation?”
Everyone remains quiet for a moment while I strain to catch anything understandable. I wish I could answer Tía Elle’s question in the affirmative, but I can’t.
“Just a soft murmur.”
“Jorge and I will keep searching their financials, and I know someone who can hack for us while you’re taking care of Trish.”
“Thank you, Tía.”
My aunt is a forensic accountant who has a reputation in the underworld as the Ball Buster.
We didn’t know she was the elusive and notorious woman who only worked for Tommaso when Tío Enrique met her.
She has connections around the world that even my family doesn’t.
She definitely knows some of the seediest people I’ve ever met or heard of.
“Do you need me to meet you up there?”
“Not for now. I’ll let you know if I do, Tía. I’m nearly certain Tre was sent down to New York to spy.”
“No.”
Tía Elle and Toria both refute my statement, but I can’t shake the feeling. When I flat-out said I know Tre’s on a mission, nobody refuted that.
“Joaquin, I’ll look into it. But I truly don’t believe she’s a spy.
She might be reporting things she sees and hears, but she’s not after something specific.
She wasn’t down here to infiltrate any organization.
Tía Elle and I have spent enough time around spies to recognize them.
I seriously doubt she’d be better than Tía or me, and I’ve seen no tells. ”
I don’t argue, but I stand by my suspicions. They only grow exponentially with the next bomb Tía Elle drops.
“Joaquin, you know Trish and my son dated for several years. While they were together, Ewan O’Malley tried hitting on her in high school while they were at a party.
He was there dealing and didn’t realize who she was.
Even after Steven told him to back off, he kept trying to talk to her.
She broke Ewan’s left ring finger and pinky when he reached out to touch her arm.
Ewan’s held a grudge for more than a decade.
It’s directed at Steve for co—blocking him and Trish for humiliating him when she refused.
If he knows she’s in town again, and he learns she’s with you, then he might be making a statement. ”
I can’t believe my tía was about to say cock blocking!
Maybe she thought it was too vulgar. Maybe she realized she was about to say her son did it. Either way, out of all the shocking things she’s said in the couple years I’ve known her, that might be the least “aunt-ly” thing she’s said yet.
“Tío, should I call Sean?”
“Would he take your call? He’s still pretty pissed.”
“When isn’t he, Tío?”
Jorge’s been silent, but he chimes in. Finn’s the accountant in that family like Pasha Kutsenko is in the bratva.
Lorenzo Mancinelli is that family’s accountant—and pretty much a little bitch.
I especially can’t stand that carechimba—face of a vagina.
He lied to a girl I liked in high school, so she spread a rumor I had the clap.
Yeah, we all went to high school together. Thanks to school district zoning, the families didn’t mix while my generation were in elementary and middle school. But we were athletic and academic teammates as much as we were rivals off campus. Pretty fucked-up.
Jorge can’t stand Finn because he tried to break my brother’s nose while we were all home for winter break during college.
It was for no other reason than Finn couldn’t handle not being the smartest guy in the room.
Finn missed and broke my nose instead. Jorge’s long memory doesn’t let go of how Finn wronged both of us.
“Quino, are you sure you want to?” Tío Enrique’s not interested in our old squabbles.
“I don’t particularly want to see or hear him, but I want his wife to find out if her trash panda brother did this.”
There’s a cacophony of chuckles on the other end.
Normally, the women wouldn’t be part of any kind of strategy call.
But these are extenuating circumstances.
Tía Margherita and Madeline might have medical advice.
Tía Elle knows the Vizzinis. Toria has underworld connections of her own. Mamá is just my mamá.
Florencia, Anneliese, and Tía Catalina are there for moral support. Their husbands would tell them all of this since it directly affects a family member—members. Not just our baby, but Tre is my family now.
I’m marrying her the moment she says she’s ready.
“Do you believe Sean would let you speak to Nicolina?”
I snort in response to Javier’s question. “He’s as likely to let me speak to her as you are to let him speak to Madeline. But I can force his hand and make him speak to her on my behalf.”
None of the men will elaborate on that since it gets into the realm that excludes the women. They know not to ask, and they prefer being left out of it. Plenty would say the gender roles are antiquated. That they uphold the patriarchy and encourage misogyny. That’s not what it’s about.
It’s plausible deniability.
Someone has to stay out of jail or alive to run the family if something happens to the men.
The women in each family are capable of running rings around their rival men.
All the men know that. It’s part of why, no matter how fucked-up a situation gets, we don’t kill members of the ruling families.
We’re far too aware of the vengeance the women would seek.
It’d be worse than Cold War level MAD. They’d mutually agree to destroy each other and sleep just fine at night.
“Do you want any of us on the call?” Pablo’s equivalent to Sean’s older brother Finn, since they’re both seconds-in-command.
“Not for this. I’ll appeal to Nicolina for a woman-to-woman favor. Tía Elle, do they know each other?”
“Yes. Nikki used to visit her dad and Ewan during most school breaks and over the summer. They were in the same grade and had some mutual unaffiliated friends. When they were little, they were pen pals when Nikki went home to Montreal. Trish made sure she was never alone when Ewan would ditch Nikki at parties their father said he had to take her to.”
Unlike the New York families who avoided mixing social groups and showing up to parties together, the Boston syndicates had no problem winding up together before the men took on their current roles.
They did it just so they could get into fist fights.
Those of us in NYC didn’t need fist fights to prove our huevos dropped.
We blew shit up instead. That, or we stabbed and shot each other.
“Tía, should I ask Tre before I force Sean to speak to Nicolina?”
“Probably wise. I say that as a wife. As a strategist, no. Speak to him before she can find out. Only you can decide which choice is right.”
“But you know her, Tía. Would she forgive me if I did it, then told her?”
“Eventually.”
“Not reassuring, Tía.”
“That’s why I said only you can decide.”
?Qué mierda de vida!
“If this happened at home, I might think it was los Mendoza because they lost the medical complex contract. I know this isn’t Misha despite what happened with him.
He’d never risk hurting Tre. Ewan might be the most obvious because we’re in Boston, but we can’t rule out a long list of other suspects. ”
“Sobrino, we’ll keep looking into it. We’ll figure this out. I promise.” Tío Enrique doesn’t make promises he won’t keep.
“All right. I’ll think about what you said, Tía. Thank you, Tío. It’s been ten minutes. No one’s come to get me, but I told them that’s as long as I’m willing to wait. I need to get back in there.”
“Remember what Tía Margherita said. Send either of us any pics of her chart or video of her fetal monitor. I’m on call tomorrow, but I’ll answer as fast as I can.”
“Thanks, Madeline. That means everything to me.”
It does. The women who’ve married into this family are accomplished, resilient, kind, and compassionate. They also have the fortitude to live in this shitstorm by choice when the rest of us were born into it.