Chapter 2
THE brONX, NEW YORK
‘Jalapeno hot at three o’clock.’
Luca Manning diverted his gaze, trying to find the location of the item that might apply to his sister’s comment.
This side of the street? He looked up and over the arching traffic lights trying to control afternoon flow.
Exactly where was she looking? ‘How many times, Steffi? Jalapeno is not a colour.’
‘I said “hot” – that means red not green.’
‘How about just saying “red”?’
‘Where’s the fun in that, huh?’ Steffi gave him an elbow to the ribs. ‘Huh?’
This was a game, but Luca always took it seriously.
Fashion was his thing and if he couldn’t distinguish between ‘fide’ or ‘fake’ – real designer garments versus nothing-special-to-see-here – then he shouldn’t be in his role as a stylist. Then Luca saw what his sister had wanted him to see.
A woman wearing a bright red full-length coat.
He didn’t hesitate. ‘Fide. It’s a Burberry Castleford. ’
‘No way!’ Steffi exclaimed. ‘She’s walking around here in a coat that cost—’
Luca clamped a hand over her mouth like he might be about to bundle her into a kidnapping van. ‘And we don’t want to be responsible for her being mugged for her coat, right?’
Steffi struggled under his grip and then he felt teeth.
‘Ow!’ Luca yelled, letting her go so quick she almost fell into a stall selling festive-looking flowers. ‘You used the Uncle Stanley move on me! Steffi, that’s been banned on family members since—’
‘2012. I know. But, I didn’t draw blood and, you know, when have the Marcello family ever stuck to the rules, huh?’
The Marcello family. Luca clenched his fingers.
His sister was right, their family didn’t think society’s rules applied to them.
They all lived by a different code, one Luca had always tried hard to separate himself from.
He might not use the family’s last name any more but he was eternally blood tied.
‘Come here, douchbag, let me look at it,’ Steffi said, barrelling into him as pedestrian traffic got as busy as the street.
‘It’s fine, Steffi, no drama.’ Luca put his hands in the pockets of his winter coat. It was a Ralph Lauren – fide, but a freebie, something from a photoshoot in Hollywood he had been the stylist on.
‘That’s what I’m hoping for Friday night. You’re coming, right?’ Steffi said.
She was using her doe-eyes, which she’d been doing since the day she was born. She was the baby of the family, five years younger than him and she took all the advantages.
Luca smiled. ‘The way you dropped that so nonchalantly; really, I’m almost impressed.’
‘What?’
‘Come on,’ Luca said, putting an arm around her shoulders and shielding her from the path of a speed-walking dog owner. ‘Let’s go get that coffee. I have an appointment at twelve.’
‘You can’t verbally side-step me, Luca. You’re seriously not gonna come to Mom’s birthday dinner?’
‘Can we not do this on the sidewalk?’ Luca asked. ‘Can we at least have caffeine and maybe hazelnut?’
‘Can we stop with the winter coffee flavourings horseshit?’ Steffi stopped walking and if she had been in heels and not knee-high combat boots, Luca felt sure she would have dug them in.
He sighed. ‘I don’t know what you want me to say.’
‘That you’re gonna come to Mom’s birthday dinner.’
‘I can’t.’
‘Or you won’t?’
It was both. But admitting something to Steffi that she already knew wasn’t going to help in this moment. ‘I have a client on Friday.’
‘Someone more important than your own mom? On her birthday? When Babbo can’t be there.’
Luca internally prickled at the last part of the sentence. Babbo. Their father. Their father wasn’t going to be there on Friday, just like he hadn’t been there for the last five birthday dinners. Nor would he be there for the next nine. Unless he got early release from Attica Correctional Facility…
‘I have a client, Steffi. I can’t change that.’
‘Or you won’t.’
Luca sighed. ‘Listen, maybe you, me and Mom can go do something else next week. I still have a contact on Broadway. Maybe we take her to see a show.’
‘Something we can’t talk at. Great idea.’
‘Or dinner.’
‘Whatever,’ Steffi answered, waving a dismissive hand.
He didn’t want to hurt his sister and he knew that their father’s conviction had been hard on the whole family. But his sister always seemed to assume that it hadn’t been hard on him. That fact couldn’t have been further from the truth.
‘Stefanie,’ he said, exactly like their mother. ‘Why are you making that face? You keep making that face, you will never find a husband.’
‘Stop it,’ Steffi said, turning away from him and almost banging into a fire hydrant. ‘It’s not going to work. I’m pissed with you.’
‘Stefanie!’ Luca continued. ‘I told your Uncle Alfonso you would do the tarantella dance. Come now, come, remember how it goes?’ Luca took his sister’s arms and tried to manoeuvre them behind her back – as was the dance stance – but it was no easy task when she was trying to fold them into her chest and there were pedestrians everywhere.
‘OK, stop, stop, Luca!’ Steffi said, her fierce expression thawing just a little. ‘You are getting too good at doing impersonations of Mom. Surprising, as you don’t see her that often.’
He nodded. ‘Yeah, OK, I’ll wear that.’
‘So, you’ll come to her birthday dinner?’
His sister wasn’t giving up. Would it kill him if he made an appearance? He could make it brief. Arrive late or leave early. He loved his mom, but sometimes when she looked at him, he could see the disappointment in her eyes, almost like she knew…
‘What time is the party?’
‘Eight. You know it’s always eight.’ He could see the joy in his sister’s expression like it was already Christmas morning and she had opened up a gift of anarchy-related merchandise.
‘OK,’ he answered. ‘I will see if I—’
Luca didn’t have time to finish the sentence before Steffi had wrapped him in a hug any bear would have been proud of executing.
‘So, who’s the client? A-lister? Someone who knows Oprah?’ Steffi asked, putting her arm through his and leading him down the street.
‘You know I can’t tell you,’ Luca replied. ‘It will be confidential until you can read about it in Harper’s Bazaar.’
‘But I can keep a secret,’ Steffi whispered. ‘I’m a Marcello.’ She lowered the volume of her voice even more. ‘I know where some of the bodies are buried.’
Luca swallowed, forcing a smile. ‘Yeah? Well, the only dark grounds I’m interested in right now are from coffee so let’s get to it.’
‘OK,’ Steffi said. ‘And bagels. Let’s have bagels.’