Chapter 24 #2
“Joaquin will defend that friendship to the end. He won’t make you give it up.
Just the opposite. He’ll make sure you can hang out with her as often as you want.
He knows she’ll help you make the transition to New York syndicate life.
You grew up trusting Mancinellis and the ones that work for them, but you can’t underestimate the danger the men who work for Salvatore pose.
It takes one arse thinking he’ll get promoted if he can prove you’re dirty or thinking that taking out a rival wife will impress his don for you to wind up dead. ”
I inhale and hold it before sighing slowly.
None of this is stuff I haven’t already thought about.
Joaquin and I have even talked about not trusting the other families.
But learning to navigate the women and families is new to me.
I helped my mom and aunts at various events, but that’s because it was just normal.
It had nothing to do with impressing anyone or asserting my position in a ruling family.
I’ve never had to do that. I was just the don’s and the consigliere’s niece, and the capo dei capi’s daughter.
Once my brother and cousins got old enough to assume their roles, I became the underboss’s and the current capo dei capi’s cousin.
I’m the sister and cousin to other senior capos.
I don’t even know if Joaquin has an official title. Maybe he has several.
“Mom, I’m only a girlfriend. The normal protections don’t extend to me.”
“Oh, yes, they do. Even if you weren’t pregnant with the first child in the next generation, the respect due a wife is already yours.
Mo chuisle, these men don’t date casually now that they’ve fully assumed their roles.
It’s too dangerous, and they don’t have time.
The moment people saw Joaquin’s attention was genuine, they knew you’d be his wife.
It’s not a question of if, only a question of when.
I’d do it before the baby’s born. You know how things went for Carmine.
I’m not saying it would be the same. The old guard’s dying off, but it would still complicate things for the child, especially if you have a boy. ”
The label of bastardry is one of those traditions that hasn’t completely faded, but it sure as shit needs to.
It doesn’t matter among the lower ranks, but it doesn’t go over well in the ruling families.
The stigma seriously fucked up Carmine while he was growing up.
I suspected it was part of his bad attitude when we were kids, but Sera’s filled me in a bit since they got married.
It goes way deeper than I could’ve imagined.
“Joaquin’s hinted at marriage, but I know he doesn’t want to overwhelm me or pressure me. Being pregnant is a lot to accept without adding marriage to it. And not just marriage as a couple but now all the stuff you just described. My head’s swimming.”
“Always remember, no matter how old you get, you’re never too old to snuggle with Mommy. You can always come home, Trish. I know you won’t, but you can.”
My mom’s been saying that first part since I was the same size as my own baby.
Hell, if I’d fit, I probably would’ve climbed onto her lap for this conversation.
It makes me think about how comforting it is when Joaquin pulls me onto his.
It’s knowing there’s someone else to face life with.
Someone else who’s willing to take on the burden.
I still feel the same way about my dad. It’s why his hug was life when we got home this afternoon.
We hear some raised voices, and we cringe at the same time.
I wait to hear a Spanish-flavored one, but it’s Boston Italian and New York Italian.
The men left my dad’s office. My mom and I lean to look through the window as though we’re kids in a TV show or movie.
It’s even worse when we both jerk back as Joaquin looks toward us.
I catch his smirk before we’re out of sight.
“Vaffanculo, pezzo di merda stronzo.” Fuck off, piece of shit asshole.
The accent’s nearly perfect, but it’s neither Dad’s nor Salvatore’s.
Joaquin’s voice is the last I hear before the door slams. Only a moment later, Dad and Joaquin step onto the patio.
I rise to make room for my dad, but he waves me off.
Deference to his position and his age instinctively has me getting up, but it’s been ages since I’ve had to give my seat up to someone else.
He wouldn’t take it because I’m a woman, his daughter, and pregnant.
Etiquette’s been drilled into all of us.
Joaquin carries two chairs over. His equally deeply ingrained etiquette insists he not bring a chair only for himself, and while my dad doesn’t outrank him in their respective organizations, he is older.
I look at my mom, then my dad, then Joaquin.
I stand anyway. I walk over to the second chair, and my dad steps aside.
I pull it as close to Joaquin’s as I can without stacking them.
My dad takes my spot on the swing, and Joaquin adjusts the cushions before I sit.
“Where are the others?”
“Tommaso, Santi, and Tristano left earlier.”
“What happened?”
I look at Joaquin when I ask, but I know my dad’s likely to answer first. Joaquin’s sour expression tells me it was shitty from the start.
My dad’s face matches Joaquin’s. It’s almost comical that they should look so much alike right now.
I doubt either of them would appreciate me pointing out the similarities.
“Salvatore had the audacity to suggest Joaquin should break up with you!”
My dad’s anger surprises me. It sounds like he defended my relationship. I wonder if?—
“There’s no chance you two are breaking up, and not just because you’re pregnant.”
That answers the question I had before it was fully formed. My dad’s insulted on our behalf and not because he believes Joaquin “needs to do the honorable thing.”
“Tre, what got us most upset was that he implied you’ll wind up dead, and he’d make sure everyone knows it’d be as much your dad’s fault as it would be mine.”
I’m aghast. My gaze meets my mom’s. Her red hair matches her temper. Everything they say about Irish redheaded women is an understatement once my mom’s fired up. All the O’Rourkes have it. She and her cousins are O’Rourkes through their fathers’ side.
My mom’s cousins married three O’Rourke brothers who haven’t been closely related to my mom’s side in like ten generations, but the last name kept getting passed along.
My mom’s cousins have her deep russet color while their husbands have more deep strawberry blond.
I’d never be brazen enough to call it carrots.
The men my age have hair that’s somewhere between the two.
I get my blonde hair from my maternal grandmother.
I always wanted my mom’s red. I even thought about dyeing it in college.
She threatened my life. Said I wasn’t to change the beautiful masterpiece she spent nine months growing and twenty hours delivering.
She nearly took a wooden spoon to Tristano’s backside when he came home with his first tattoo.
It was inevitable, but she was irate. It didn’t help he was only seventeen and sneaked it without either of my parents knowing.
“An píosa cacamas sin.” That fucking piece of shit.
I’m not supposed to know what that means when my mom swears in Irish.
But I learned plenty of colorful phrases during a spring break trip in college.
It was awesome seeing the library at Trinity University.
It was also awesome to learn what my mom sometimes mutters.
It really is rare for her to swear in front of one of her kids, so I know how pissed off she is.
“What’s his end game? What did he hope to accomplish by saying that?” My mom’s ready to don her armor and lead the attack.
“Piss us both off so that we’re in bad moods and short-tempered with each other later.”
My dad’s explanation makes sense.
“Pitting you against each other without being obvious.”
“Chica, there’s a reason that man’s nickname has never been Sly. He’s the least subtle, least inconspicuous man around.”
“Why would he think you’d fall for that?”
“He didn’t, but the man is optimistic if anything.” Dad’s sarcasm drips from every word.
“Chica, it’s time to go back to New York.
I want us to stay with Pablo and Florencia.
They’re in syndicate Switzerland. If it’s one of the other families, they won’t strike in the neighborhood.
Not with kids living there. My brothers and cousins will also be within shouting distance along with all their security details. ”
“Did you already talk to him? We can’t just show up unannounced.”
“Of course we can. We’re family. You’ve seen the houses. There’s plenty of room. I texted him just before I went into your dad’s study.”
We’re family.
Not I’m family.
Not they won’t mind guests.
They accept me.
Family before everything.
Just a silent “that’s how it’s always been and how it always will be.”
I nod as I dart my gaze to my mom, then my dad. Neither looks eager for me to leave, but I don’t sense any hesitation about me going with Joaquin.
“Chica, your parents are coming too.”
“They are? You are?” I don’t know who to look at right now.
“Joaquin showed me the texts as we walked out here. Pablo offered an open invitation. I’m not worried about one of them killing me in my sleep. They’d never make it past Leenie.”
Leenie.
No one but Dad would dare call her that.
“I’d never live down dying at an O’Rourke’s hand.”
Joaquin grins at Mom but smirks at Dad as though he has nothing to worry about from a Vizzini. My dad rolls his eyes, utterly unimpressed.
“When’re we leaving?”
“In the morning, chica.”