Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
Sienna
The present
“Mrs. D’Amico, rest assured, we will deliver your loved one’s ashes to the funeral mass.” The crematorium director extends a box of tissues, and I grab one.
“And while I appreciate that, I would like to spend just one more day with my beloved husband.” I make a show of dabbing my eyes.
“He was devoutly Catholic, you see, and his ashes must remain interred in his mausoleum after the gravesite service.” Please.
Michele was as devout a Catholic as he was a loving husband.
“Well, the problem is—”
“That I’m not leaving here without his remains,” I say firmly.
“Yes, Mrs. D’Amico.” The man scurries away, returning with the urn.
“Thank you. And hello, darling,” I greet Michele’s ashes as “we” exit the building.
Next on my to-do list is a stop at the pet store before returning home, where I gather up my supplies in the bathroom.
Lifting the lid of the urn, I examine the great Michele D’Amico, reduced to ashes. A smile stretches my cheeks as I unseal the inner bag and pour half of my husband into the toilet.
Giving Michele a satisfying flush, I mix his remaining ashes with cat litter. Stepping out of my panties, I hike up my dress and squat over the urn, pissing in it. “Ahhhh.”
RIP.
Rest in piss.
The priest carries on in Latin as my fingers lovingly trace the lace edges of my black mantilla veil. It’s the first piece I’ve created in years.
After the pet store, my next stop was the sewing shop, where I purchased new bobbins and materials. While my creation isn’t perfect—time restraints and lack of practice resulted in the fabric puckering in multiple places—I’m still so damn proud of how it turned out.
The service concludes, and I continue with my award-winning role of grieving widow, accepting condolences from members of the family.
“Sorry for your loss.” The boss tells me without inflection.
“Thank you, Angelo,” I say demurely, grateful that my face is hidden beneath the veil. I’ve had to stop myself from cackling like an evil witch on multiple occasions.
“Interesting that Michele died of pneumonia; I didn’t realize he was sick,” he muses.
“Angelo, you’re being rude.” Alessandra chastises her brother, hugging me.
“I’m not being rude; I was merely unaware of Michele’s declining health,” Angelo tells his sister, but the accusation is clearly directed at me.
“The family does like to play health matters close to the vest.” It’s a bold statement, one I probably shouldn’t make concerning the boss’s dead father, but I’m tired of being bulldozed by these Calvani men.
Appearing unaffected, he continues, “Also interesting how Michele’s assistant Jade likewise died of pneumonia.”
“Is it?” I counter. “I’m no doctor, so I’ll have to defer to their medical expertise.” Besides, how my husband was murdered isn’t my concern. As for Jade, how that bitch was murdered isn’t Angelo’s concern.
“Now you’re just being morbid,” Alessandra interjects, scolding her brother. “Sienna, we’re sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you,” I tell her.
She nods, walking off, but the boss hangs back.
“Don’t think for a second that I’ve forgotten about the hostess situation. You and I are going to have a sit down this week,” he warns.
“Really, Angelo?” I chide, ignoring the spike in my pulse. “Business at my husband’s funeral?”
“Be careful, Sienna. Pneumonia’s going around, or so I’ve been told.” With that parting threat, he strolls off.
Calvani men. Assholes, the lot of them.
Fabien
“This is a new look.” I give Al’s freshly dyed jet-black hair a playful ruffle.
My sister grins. “I like to keep things interesting around the Calvani house.”
“How are things with the family?” I ask between sips of cherry cola. “Did you go to Michele’s funeral?” Regretfully, I couldn’t be there in person. Not for the funeral, but the murder. His death would have been neither quick nor merciful had I been.
She nods. “Not that I wanted to, but blah, blah, blah, ‘family above all else.’”
“Did you see Sienna?” I try to play it cool, but having not laid eyes on the woman for nearly a decade, it was like a jolt of adrenaline straight to the heart being in the same room as her.
In my memories, she was always the most beautiful girl in the world.
And my memories don’t hold a candle to the woman of today.
All confidence and sexy curves, with a sharp edge about her that time has only forged into a deadly weapon. Worth the risk of life and limb.
Fate’s been a real motherfucker keeping us apart, but I’m going to win my girl back if it’s the last thing I do. And this time, I’ll keep my promise to Sienna.
That nasty memory rattles its cage.
“It’s obvious you’re in love with her,” Al says.
“Is it?” I hide behind my can, taking another sip.
“Like, so obvious.”
“It’s complicated.”
“Ha. That’s what Angelo said about his situationship with his ‘not girlfriend’ Laurie.”
“How is our brother?”
“I dunno.” Al shrugs. “Grumpy as always.”
“And he doesn’t know about you visiting me?” I press.
Al shakes her head. “No way, but I really wish you two would stop beefing.”
“We’re not beefing.” Or, at least we won’t be, if Angelo does the right thing when I’m released. And that means admitting he was a little bitch, apologizing, and handing over the keys to my kingdom.
“Uh-huh.” Al eyes me skeptically. “Why do you two hate each other?”
“It’s—”
“Complicated?”
No, it’s actually quite simple. Everything’s been taken from me, and with nothing to lose, I’m prepared to go scorched earth. Angelo has no idea what he’s up against, should he try to challenge me.
“Any big plans for your big eighteenth birthday?” I change the subject.
“Haven’t decided yet,” she says in a guarded tone, and I’m afraid I’ve hit on a sore spot.
“Al, I’m sorry I can’t be there.” My stomach falls like a lead balloon. “I’m sorry I haven’t been there for a lot of things.” A milestone thief, prison. “Mama’s death was hardest on you, I’m sure.”
Al shrugs, but that tiny flicker of pain in her eyes isn’t fooling me. “The Calvani curse strikes again.”
“Calvani curse?” I say, confused.
“That’s what was whispered at Mama’s funeral, since cancer got both her and Papà.”
Having missed my own mother’s funeral, I fall back in my chair on a frustrated sigh. “I’m sorry, kiddo.” Not sorry that cancer got Vitto; I hope it ate him from the inside out.
“It’s alright.” She reaches over and squeezes my hand. “Honestly, I’m just excited to be done with school. Except now Angelo is on my ass about going to college. He doesn’t get that I don’t want to go to college.” She groans dramatically.
“Then do what you want,” I tell her. “It’s your life, not his.”
“That’s the problem. I don’t know what I want.” Al fake cries.
That gets a chuckle out of me. “You’re young. Who says you’ve gotta have it all figured out?”
Her brows furrow. “Um, Angelo?”
“Our old man didn’t make it past the ninth grade,” I tell her. “Remind Mr. Ivy League of that the next time he’s on your case.”
Something behind me catches Al’s attention, and her eyes narrow.
“What?”
“Who’s the creepy-looking man?” My sister whispers to me.
I glance over my shoulder to find Kirksey deep in conversation with his visitor. “Don’t worry about him. That’s my cellie, Kirksey. Cornbread Costa Nostra by way of Biloxi,” I whisper to Al.
“Cornbread? What does that mean?”
“He’s not Italian, but hey, not all of us can be God’s favorites,” I joke.
“If you’re one of God’s favorites, then why are you rotting in prison?” Al whisper-hisses.
“Oof.” I fall back in my chair. “Way to gut a man, little sis.”
“I’m sorry, but I don’t understand why you’re in here,” she says hotly.
“Allegedly, I did a line of blow and shot a man.” Saint insists that I add the “allegedly” qualifier, but those two facts are hard to dispute.
“But you had your reasons?” Al implores.
“Yes.” And those reasons feel like battery acid burning a gaping hole in my chest. “Allegedly.”
“Visitation is over,” the CO calls.
“It sucks when I get to go home, and you have to go back,” Al says, wiping her shiny eyes with the back of her arm. “This whole thing isn’t fair.”
“Hey, now. Don’t shed a tear for me.” Glancing at the clock, I tell her, “I’m out in 43,440 minutes.
” With nothing better to do, I like to track my release date by the minute.
“Blink, and you’ll miss it.” Rising, I wrap my arms around Al, kissing the top of her head. “See you next week, little blackbelt.”
She sniffs. “You still need to come up with a better nickname.”
“Let me work on it.” I ruffle her hair.
Sadly, I’ve got the time.
I’m escorted to general pop, and it’s back to my regularly scheduled, mind-numbing program. After chow, I hit the urinal in the communal bathroom.
If you’re one of God’s favorites, then why are you rotting in prison?
Vitto fucking Calvani.
Even if I were one of God’s favorites, I was never the devil’s.
Shaking off my cock, a sound pricks my awareness. A blade slices inches from my ear as I roll.
Spinning around, I jerk my pants up to find the all day and a night inmate I paid off from the priest hit. Brandishing my shank.
He lunges for me, and I juke to the right, grabbing his wrist. Outmuscling him, I force the blade to his own neck. “Who sent you?”
“Your brother sends his regards.” The motherfucker spits in my face, and now he’s gone and pissed me off.
My knee connects with his balls, and he doubles over. A leg sweep catches him off guard; the back of his head slams against the urinal. It’s lights out as his body crumples to the ground.
I sprint to the first stall, wrapping my hand over and over with toilet paper before returning. Angling my body away from the impending spray, I ram the shank into his femoral, twisting until the blade breaks off.
Hustling to the stall, the bloody TP gets flushed down the toilet, and the shank handle gets wiped down before it’s tossed and flushed.
I told Al that Angelo and I weren’t beefing.
Oh, but we’re beefing now.