Chapter 27
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Joaquin
Five days in the hospital, and Tre and I are finally unpacking in my room at Tío Enrique and Tía Elle’s place.
Tre felt better each day, especially after Tía Margherita and Madeline showed up with a stack of papers this morning.
They spread them out across the bed, and I immediately gravitated to the data tables—except they meant next to nothing to me.
My tía and sister explained they’d done as much research as they could in prenatal thallium exposure.
Understandably, there wasn’t a ton of data.
But the studies conducted show the earlier in the pregnancy the exposure happens, the less likely it is for adverse effects.
Once they explained the metrics, the tables and graphs made sense to me.
Turns out Tre’s taken almost as many stats classes as I have.
She had no trouble interpreting them too.
Tía and Madeline couldn’t promise there were no possibilities that something had already gone wrong, and they explained Tre’s considered high risk, but they definitely allayed many of our fears. It was the best news we’d had since we arrived at the hospital.
“Tre, I need to step into Tío’s office to make a call. Do you need anything?”
My girlfriend’s surrounded by all the women in our family—los Diaz.
She’s one of us now. Kathleen and Frank headed back to Boston an hour ago.
Everyone knew it was time, but no one blamed them for not wanting to leave.
It’s why everyone came over. The women wanted to comfort Tre, and the men knew it was time to have conversations we’d never risk having with Frank and the Vizzini men around.
“I’m all right.”
It’s not like one of the women wouldn’t get whatever she needs, but I offer anyway. The look she shoots me tells me there’s one thing she needs that only I can give her. When her gaze darts down to my dick, I give her a kiss and hurry away before anyone sees the hard-on I’ll get if I stick around.
When I enter my tío’s study, my brothers and cousins are already waiting for me.
Tío Luis is on a brief trip to Bogotá to remind a guy that his arms aren’t as long as he thinks they are, so his reach is nothing compared to my family’s.
Tío Matías is charming board members of a corporation based near Atlantic City. I’m sure he wishes he were with us.
Before I can pull out my phone to call Salvatore, it vibrates in my pocket. When I catch sight of the caller ID, I turn it toward the others and grin.
“Hola, cabrón.”
“Caio, stronzo.”
“Never a pleasure, Salvatore. What do you want?”
“I’m calling to see how Tricia is doing.”
“You couldn’t ask Serafina?”
“I’m asking you.”
“You haven’t actually asked anything yet.”
“Porco cane.” Pig dog.
The insult loses something in translation.
“Sylvia told you to call, didn’t she? Still got your huevos in a vice.”
He says nothing, so he neither agrees nor disagrees—aloud. We all know that’s exactly what happened.
“Salvatore, you grow older by the minute. You didn’t just call to see how my girlfriend is. If it was just about that, Sylvia would’ve called. What’re you going to tell us?”
He barks a laugh. “Enrique, I would’ve thought you’d finished drilling manners into the pup by now. He never learns, does he?”
“At least he doesn’t need a vacation under the Tuscan sun to learn.”
Tío’s never interested in playing tit-for-tat, but he always has a comeback.
Luca, Carmine, and Gabriele took it upon themselves a few years ago to plan, then utterly fail at a mission that resulted in a bratva wife getting injured.
Salvatore couldn’t look soft in front of his men, so he had no choice but to mete out punishment to his nephews and his Sicilian best friend’s son.
Then he sent them to work on a Sicilian vineyard for a man who owed Salvatore several favors.
He made sure Luca, Carmine, and Gabriele understood how little he wanted the Mancinelli fuck-ups.
“Francesco’s not a well-liked man these days.”
“You don’t say. He threatened to sell my girlfriend and hurt my cousin’s wife. If he did that to a Boston Cosa Nostra daughter and a Mala del Brenta daughter, then no woman is safe from his threats.”
“I know. We know he thinks I’m getting too close to Tommaso. He fears I’ll side with the Vizzinis in the future, that I don’t value our ties to Sicily enough.”
“That’s fucking ridiculous. Your marriage tied your family to Sicily.
That was the entire point. You won the jackpot and married a woman far better than you.
That’s what Carmine and Serafina’s betrothal was supposed to do when they were teens.
Your nephew doesn’t deserve the luck he had to get a woman like Sera to voluntarily marry, let alone love him.
Your ties to the motherland are just fine. ”
“You know that. I know that. We know that. Everybody fucking knows that.”
“Except for that fucker.”
“Exactly. Sylvia’s never liked him, but after the last trip to Palermo, she doesn’t trust him anymore. Allegra doesn’t either.”
Allegra’s Sylvia’s older sister, Serafina’s mom, and the Mala del Brenta madrina—godmother. Allegra and Sylvia are two of the most powerful women in the Mafia. Fortunately for all of us, their husbands are wise enough to listen to their advice.
“What happened?” I can ask even though I know I won’t get an answer.
“That’s neither here nor there beyond my belief that Francesco was definitely involved.”
“Does he want to break ties with you, and he’s just looking for an excuse?”
“Possibly.”
Most definitely.
This conversation will only scratch the surface of whatever’s going on. The best I can hope for is enough to point my family in the right direction. Maybe even enough crumbs to lure the Vizzinis out. I want to know why Salvatore isn’t letting my future in-laws handle this.
“Why aren’t you having the Vizzinis solve this if they’re the ones in the middle? Why aren’t they showing their loyalty to the motherland?”
“Clearly, they’re already overinvolved considering what’s happened to Tricia. They don’t need to be in the middle of this.”
There he is. The almighty Godfather.
“You’d rather remove them altogether. You don’t trust Tommaso.”
“I do for some things. For all our bravado and machismo, you and I both know our life is a whole fucking humble pie. Tommaso doesn’t think he should eat even a crumb. Bastardo arrogante.” Arrogant bastard.
Please, tell us how you really feel.
“That may be true, but you also don’t want to owe Tommaso anything. It’s one thing when he’s dealing with the mess that’s dropped in his backyard. It’s another when you ask him to help clean yours.”
“Astute for once. If one of Francesco’s men showed up in Boston or New York, it wouldn’t go unnoticed. Between Vittoria and Elodie, a mercenary wouldn’t last long either.”
I ignore his insult before I continue.
“You believe he has someone in the States who’s carrying out his orders. That he didn’t make empty threats.”
We’ve been going around the hedges to finally get to this. It’s like any business negotiations. A lot of buttering each other up while tossing in some misdirection before getting to the actual bargaining.
“Exactly. He knew Tricia wouldn’t learn anything.
He ordered that mission as a flex. Tommaso knew it from the start, but he also knew Francesco is batshit crazy enough to follow through.
It’s why he asked me to ask Sera to offer Tricia a job.
If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was trying to drive me into Tommaso’s arms.”
“Is it someone from within the Vizzinis?” I ask because it would surprise me if it were true.
“Possibly.”
No wonder he doesn’t trust Tommaso to deal with this.
If he has a mole, then he should’ve ferreted it out by now.
If he has a mole, can he be trusted to deal with the guy in a way that will satisfy Salvatore and me?
He’s not soft by any stretch, but I don’t trust him not to hide the guy away and save him for a rainy day.
A day when he has a job bad enough that he values everyone else’s life too much to send them.
“Any thoughts on who?” It’s like pulling fucking teeth.
“Not yet. We’re following the breadcrumbs back to Francesco, but you have other enemies in Boston.”
“The Volkovs.”
“You have a lot of digging to do, Joaquin. Jorge will help you, but he’s not a hacker. Let Carmine help.”
Everyone but Tío Enrique has been silent until now. We howl with laughter so loudly we sound like a pack of hyenas.
“Thanks, but Carmine can stick to his decorative blankets and throw pillows.”
The guy has a degree in structural engineering from Stanford.
You’d never imagine he was studious enough to get in, let alone graduate.
I concede he did it on merit, not his family’s name and money.
He opened an interior design firm right out of college.
I know the difference between interior decorating and design, but I still give him shit. I’m sure he’s listening.
“Don’t be pompous, Joaquin. It’s not like he’s jumping to make the offer himself, but Tricia’s important to Sera.
That makes her well-being a priority to him.
If you have to dig through the Torettas and the Vizzinis, you can use the help.
I know you’ve been poking around for weeks now, and I’m sure you’ve made progress.
But you haven’t cracked the case. Another set of eyes wouldn’t go amiss. ”
I look at my family. While none of them are eager, they all nod. Tío Enrique grimaces while he nods, but once he approves it, I’m willing to accept the help.
“Fine, Salvatore. Carmine, fuck me over on this, and I will make your wife a widow.”
I bet Salvatore’s giving Carmine a look to stay silent.
“If you dig into your future in-laws and get caught, it’ll ruin any peace you could have with them. Carmine will look there.”
“Thank you.”