10. Prime
PRIME
It’s one thing to have a drink before your own wedding. I figure men since the dawn of time have tossed back some fermented sugar bullshit to help fortify them for the coming vows.
But usually there are friends and family around.
It’s not a drink in some depressing room entirely alone.
Maybe getting hitched is making me reflect too much. I look back on my years and they’re bleak. My childhood is a series of foster families, state-run orphanages, and long months spent on the street. I knew people, but never had many friends, at least until I got older.
I met Shawn on a perfect Tuesday afternoon.
He punched me in the face and stole my shoes.
Later that night, I beat him while he was still asleep, wrapped my hands around his throat, and told him that if he ever touched my shit again, he wouldn’t wake up next time.
We were as close as anyone gets in our world after that.
Shawn showed me the ropes. Every foster family’s got quirks, and ours was no different.
They gathered lost urchins like fucking toys, jamming them into bunks and collecting the state payments.
When the inspections rolled around, we made damn sure everything looked spotless, otherwise Old Man Fuckface (I can’t remember his real name anymore) would go to town on everyone with his belt while Old Lady Fuckface shouted insults.
Shawn taught me how to scrub, how to bleach, how to comb my hair and smile real sweet for the inspector girl, and if we did all that, we were left alone.
We got into trouble, obviously. I found the crews and Shawn came with me.
In those days it was mostly gambling and underground street fights.
We helped take bets and after a while we were trusted enough to touch actual money.
We took home more cash than we ever imagined, and I only got stabbed once.
I don’t know how, but I must’ve caught the eye of Augustus Fontana, because his people started inviting me to small jobs in the area.
Shit like knocking over liquor stores and intimidating drunks late on their interest payments.
Shawn was the only guy I ever trusted. Aside from that first day, he never betrayed me, never let me down, and never judged. We went through hell together.
If he were still here, I’d have him sitting by my side, drinking my best bourbon, and telling stories about the old days. Maybe we’d laugh about that shit now, who knows.
Instead, I got an empty room and a bottle and not much else.
Stellan offered to be my best man but that was never a realistic option. The leader of the Corsetti Mafia can’t get involved in a marriage service, not without raising a few eyebrows and getting comments from the other Capos.
Which leaves me stewing in my own frustrated misery, not even sure why I’m so angry. I’m getting married to a good woman, a smart, independent, strong woman, fucking beautiful too, and I don’t deserve her in the slightest. I should be down on my knees thanking God for Valentina.
Instead, my stomach’s a wreck whenever I think about her.
There’s a knock at the door. I grunt and Deanna enters, a pen tucked behind her ear, that stupid clipboard back. “How are you holding up?” Her gaze settles on my drink. “Don’t tell me you’re drunk already, Prime?”
“Sober as a judge.” I take a long sip. “Most judges I know are notorious drunks and bastards, by the way.”
She looks down at her notes, visibly trying not to get annoyed. “Guests are arriving. Ceremony starts in a half hour. They’re passing food and drinks right now. You should probably consider going out there.”
“Probably,” I agree.
“Valentina’s still getting dressed. She looks amazing, by the way. If you insist on hiding in here, I’ll send someone to get you when it’s time.”
“You know where to find me then.”
“Aren’t you interested in your wedding at all?”
“Not particularly.” I wiggle the bottle at her. “Want some? It’s the good stuff. I know you worked hard. You earned a double shot.”
“Tempting, and thank you for acknowledging my contributions toward today, but I’d better stay sober. Someone’s got to be.”
“What’s that mean?”
“Nothing, it means you’re hitting that hard, is all.”
“But you said someone. Is my future wife also fortifying herself with God’s sweet nectar?”
Her nose wrinkles in that cute as fuck way. “Don’t call it that. I shouldn’t tell you this, but Valentina’s having a few glasses of wine, that’s all. And you know what? I don’t blame her. This is stressful.”
I gaze toward the window. I never imagined how Valentina was feeling right now.
Does she understand who I am? And who we’re getting married in front of today?
Stellan will be in the crowd, of course, but so will half the Corsetti outfit alongside several other powerful and influential criminals.
Is she afraid? Nervous something bad might happen?
Or is this only normal pre-wedding jitters?
“Hey, Prime, are you listening? I asked, do you know where the ring is?”
I pat my jacket pocket. “Right here.”
“Good. Hold on to it. Actually, you know what—“ She walks over and stoops down. A shiver runs down my spine. Deanna’s wearing black silk, a strangely sober outfit for a wedding, but I’m guessing she’s trying to blend in with the staff since she’s the one running the show.
Her top shows a hint of her beautiful chest and I glance at the lovely skin, mouth watering.
She opens my jacket, reaches in, and takes the ring herself.
“I’d better?—”
I grab onto her wrist. She tenses in surprise and I don’t let go.
“Let me ask you something.” My voice is low and smokey, a rumble grinding out from my chest. Emotions flicker under the ice-dam of my heart like black shadows in the arctic deep. “Am I ruining this girl? Am I fucking up today?”
Deanna’s teeth bite her lower lip. “It’s a little late to be asking that, isn’t it?”
“I need to know.” I tighten my grip. “Please. No bullshit.”
“I don’t know. Can you actually follow through with your deal?
Are you capable of giving her what she wants?
” Deanna’s voice cuts me straight through my throat and down into my core.
But she brightens quickly. “I’m sure it’ll be fine.
Valentina’s a grown ass woman. She can handle herself. You’ll be alright, don’t worry.”
I release Deanna’s wrist. The scent of her perfume lingers as she pulls away, leaving the ring behind, chattering quickly about last minute preparations before escaping from my room.
I pour another drink and down it.
Deanna’s words burn through my skull. Can I give her what she wants? Can I follow through with the promise I made to her? Valentina’s a good person and she’s only doing this because she thinks it’s her best option for starting a family on her own terms.
But am I really the right man for that?
I barely know what I’m doing ten minutes later as I stagger down the corridor. The sound of laughter carries from the guests in the main hall of the waterworks building. The ceremony will be partially outside in front of the river as the sun drifts down behind the trees. I’m told it’s very pretty.
The room’s crowded when I enter. Several women sit nearby, chatting, drinking wine, while more fuss around a large vanity.
Valentina’s at the center, her hair getting touched-up, her make up partially finished, a big glass in her hands and a smile on her face.
She seems surprised to see me and turns in my direction.
God, she’s beautiful. Stunning. A fantastic figure, olive-toned skin, everything a good Italian man could possibly want.
“We need to talk,” I say, not looking away from her eyes. “Everyone, get out.”
“Hold on.” Valentina laughs like I’m being absurd. “The ceremony’s soon and we’re sort of on a time crunch here. Also, this is bad luck, you know that right?”
“I said, everyone get the fuck out.”
Valentina’s smile fades. Her friends stand and mutter excuses as they hurry away. One lingers, but Valentina dismisses her. I don’t even know any of their names, and in theory they’re all my future wife’s closest confidantes. How the fuck would this work? What was I even thinking?
The make-up and hair ladies are the last to leave and I’m alone with Valentina.
She crosses her legs, seemingly at ease. I’m stunned at how attractive she is. Self-possessed, confident, and intelligent. Her dark eyes sparkle with charm.
“Alright, Prime, you got me alone. What’s going on?”
I decide this woman deserves more than some bullshit.
“We can’t get married.”
She nods like that’s what she expected. “Alright, I hear you. I agree this is crazy, but we knew that coming into today. That’s why we discussed everything.”
“You and Deanna discussed it.”
“What’s the difference? She was speaking of you, wasn’t she?”
“We can’t do this.”
“If there’s some clause in the contract you want to change, we can figure it out.
” She gets out of her chair and walks over to a bag left in the corner.
She rummages around until she draws out a spiral-bound book, clearly something Deanna put together.
I’d recognize my assistant’s handiwork anywhere.
“Here, show me the problem and we’ll hammer it out real fast. We can delay if we have to. ”
“It’s not the contract. I didn’t even read it.”
Her jaw tightens. “Are you kidding me? We worked hard on this thing.”
“I know. That’s the problem. We can’t do this, Valentina.”
“What the fuck, Prime?” She slams the contract down onto the vanity. Make up brushes and palettes scatter to the floor. “Why are you doing this right now?”
“All of that—everything on that paper—I’m sure it’s carefully structured and well done. But I can’t give you the one thing that matters.”
“Don’t do this to me right now. Please, I know you’re probably freaking out. I am too, honestly, but we’re going to make this work.”
“You’re not listening.”
“All my friends are here. My fucking family, Prime. Do you have any idea what they think? What they’ve been saying? Last night, Lucy spent two hours begging me not to go through with this. She showed me every nasty piece of information she could find about you, and I’m still here.”
“I don’t even know who Lucy is, don’t you get it?”
“Who gives a fuck about that?!” Valentina takes a few steps toward me.
I notice she’s barefoot. I don’t know why I cling to that detail.
“I don’t care about you and you don’t care about me.
That’s exactly why this works. I’ll play your respectable wife and help you launder your dog shit reputation, and you’ll give me children. ”
“But that’s the problem. I’m not going to curse you or any potential future people with me. It’s the kids, Valentina. I can’t do it.”
She stops in her tracks and looks like I punched her in the stomach. Her hand drifts to her midsection like she’s holding in her guts or maybe reaching for a baby I’ll never give her.
Because I’m nothing but a curse. I’ve known it all my life, ever since I was old enough to think. My parents abandoned me, the state did its best to get rid of me, and even Shawn eventually found out exactly what happens when I get close to someone.
Nothing good happens when I let other people in.
I can’t do that to Valentina, and I sure as fuck can’t do that to her children.
“Why did you do this to me?” Her voice is very small. She’s pale as she turns her back on me.
“I didn’t think?—“
“It’s her, isn’t it?” I barely understand as she leans against the vanity, fingers curling into the pages. “I saw the way you treat each other. The way you look at her. I didn’t mind, you know. I wouldn’t mind if you wanted her too, so long as you stuck to the deal. It didn’t bother me, but now?—“
“Who are you talking about?”
She looks back at me like I’ve lost my mind. “Get the fuck out. I’m done with this.”
“Valentina—“
“Get out, Prime. Why are you even still here? You must love twisting the knife. You’re even more sadistic than I thought. You want to call this off? Then you deal with the consequences. I’m getting my stuff and I’m leaving. You figure out how to clean up this mess.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Fuck you! Get the fuck out!”
I turn and go. Valentina’s fury washes over me, but it barely melts the frost forever ruining what passes as my heart.
I pause in the hall, breathing hard, teeth gritted, wondering how I managed to wreck yet another person’s life.
I embarrassed her for no god damn reason and how will this reverberate through the rest of her days?
She’s right. I’m a sick, sadistic piece of shit.
But something else nags at me. A question I don’t know how to answer, but now that it’s been asked, I can’t stop thinking about it. Even here, when I should be mortified and begging for forgiveness, it’s all I can obsess over.
It’s her, isn’t it?