Endings & Beginnings (New Mafia Trilogy #3)

by E. J. Fechenda

  One of the double doors was propped open and we stepped inside the entryway. Like with most churches I’ve experienced, there was a hushed reverence as if the building was soundproofed from the outside world. Once my eyes adjusted to the dim interior, I noticed a man standing right inside and I jumped. Mom did too and latched onto my arm. I didn’t recognize him. He was wearing a light blue dress shirt underneath a navy suit jacket that matched his pants. One of his hands hovered near his hip and he had a military vibe to his stance. He had thick dark hair and stubble coated his square jaw. The way he visually frisked me and my mom made it clear to me that he was a soldier and guarding the entrance. My mom kept looking back at him over her shoulder once we passed by, so I hooked my arm through hers and practically dragged her through stained glass doors into the sanctuary. This is where the hushed reverence ended and the boisterous Grabanos began.

  A chorus of conversations bounced off the high ceilings of the sanctuary. Certainly the people crowding around the first two rows of pews demanded attention, but I was distracted by the murals on the walls and ceilings in the alcove surrounding the altar. I knew Michelangelo didn’t paint them, but whoever did possessed comparable talent. Being an artist, my eye was immediately drawn to the rich hues of red and gold that popped against a twilight sky. Religious scenes were depicted in great detail with angels and saints looking down on the scene below. On the back wall of the alcove, the obligatory statue of Jesus on a cross stood as witness to all. I was so busy looking up, that I didn’t see Dominic approach until he was almost in front of me.

  One minute I was standing in the middle of the aisle, staring at gold filigree molding and the next minute deep green eyes obstructed my view. “Oh! Hi,” I said breathlessly, still a little awestruck by the museum-like interior of the church. From the outside it didn’t look like much.

  “It’s beautiful, huh?” Dominic said with a smile before giving me a hug. I breathed in his spicy cologne and slipped my arms around his broad back, grateful for the high heels so I didn’t have to stand on tip-toes. I was just tall enough to peek over his shoulder and I saw several people looking at us with varying expressions ranging from approval and surprise to disapproval. Miranda and Grant were off to the side talking to the priest, but that didn’t stop Miranda from giving me a thumbs-up and I rolled my eyes at her. Stepping out of Dominic’s embrace, I gave him a quick once over. He was wearing black dress pants and shoes. The sleeves of his white button down dress shirt were rolled up to his elbows revealing tanned and muscular forearms. His dark hair was still damp and curled around his ears.

  “You look amazing,” Dom said to me and I glanced down at the slim fitting fuchsia dress, his presence having caused me to temporarily forget what I was wearing. The dress had a skinny black belt, which matched my shoes. “Come on, we’re about ready to start the rehearsal.”

  Just as he said it, the priest called all members of the bridal party up to the altar. Dom took my hand in his and started towards the front. I balked and yanked my hand free. He stopped and looked back at me with his eyebrows raised.

  “We’re not together anymore, remember? We can’t just pick up where we left off,” I whispered, conscious of how the slightest sound carried.

  Dominic’s demeanor changed and he straightened his shoulders, a faint scowl formed when he pinched his lips together. Stepping off to the side, inches away from a pew, he gestured with an outstretched arm for me to pass. Standing tall, I walked by, but he still managed to rattle me when he fell into step next to me and placed his hand on the small of my back. We were too close to our families for me to say anything without causing a scene so I let it slide.

  Father Delaurdis assembled us along the gray green marble steps leading up to the altar, which was an exquisitely carved wooden table, draped with an ivory cloth, at the center of a dais. Dominic was Grant’s Best Man and Cici was Miranda’s Maid of Honor so they were one step below where the bride and groom stood. I stood next to Cici and across from Dante. Joey D. stood across from Allegra who hadn’t stopped giving me the stink eye since she saw Dominic greet me. Miranda’s brother, Paulie, was the last groomsman and Bianca the last bridesmaid. Once we were all assembled, we received instructions then walked through what would be an hour and half long ceremony. The Maid of Honor had to do most of the work. Looking out at the pews, I noticed my mom had been absorbed into a group of Grabano women. She sat next to Miranda’s mother and she watched the rehearsal with interest. We weren’t raised Catholic and didn’t go to church a lot growing up so this was a new experience.

  Once we did one run through, we started over, but this time from the very beginning with Miranda walking down the aisle. I was surprised to see her Uncle Al step forward from where he had been sitting on a pew. Miranda slipped her arm through his, in her other arm she held the bouquet made of ribbons from her bridal shower, and they walked back to the stained glass doors near the front entrance.

  “You’re going first, Natalie. Then Allegra’s supposed to count down from ten once you start to walk down the aisle and she’ll follow you. Bianca, you count down from ten before going. Got it?” Cici whispered.

  “Got it,” we agree in unison.

  ‘Great! Then the ring bearer and flower girls will follow Bianca then I’ll go with Miranda and Al coming last.”

  Suddenly soft music began and grew louder. It was a classical piece and vaguely familiar. On a certain note, I stepped through the double doors and onto the aisle. Grant and his groomsmen were already positioned with Father Delaurdis at the top of the altar. Once in my spot across from Dante, I watched the rest make their way. Any side chatter ceased the moment Miranda and Al started to walk down the aisle.

  My feet were screaming towards the end and I made a mental note that whenever I got married, the ceremony was going to take less than twenty minutes. Father DeLaurdis pronounced the rehearsal a success and we were free to leave. I walked over to where my mom was sitting and chatting with Miranda’s mom. Paulina smiled at me when I plopped down on the pew, stretching my legs out, taking the pressure off of the balls of my feet.

  From this vantage point it was easy to sit and really appreciate the artwork above me. The various conversations in the room created a relaxing hum in the background. Late afternoon sun streamed in through the stained glass windows that lined one wall of the sanctuary, while the windows on the other were still as beautiful, just not as radiant; the colors muted and not set ablaze by sunlight.

  My reverie was interrupted when someone sat down next to me on the pew and I turned to see my brother, he had his long legs stretched out in front of him too.

  “So what do you think?” Grant asked.

  “This church is beautiful and you must really love Miranda to endure a religious ceremony that’s over an hour long.”

  Grant laughed and shrugged. “She’s worth every second and it’s what she wants.”

  I wanted to ask him how they managed to bypass all of the rules of Catholicism in order to have a traditional ceremony. Not only were Grant and Miranda “living in sin”, but she was pregnant and Grant basically killed people for a living. Deciding it wasn’t the right time or place for that kind of a Q & A session, I kept my mouth shut.

  “Good answer, Grant. I think Miranda’s worth it too.”

  “I can’t believe we’re getting married tomorrow though, and I’m going to be a dad.”

  Grant’s life had certainly changed course, but then again so had mine. We both had outgrown our hometown and weren’t going back.

  “You’ll be a good dad," I said, patting his knee reassuringly. And he would. We didn’t have a stellar example of a father growing up, but Grant always put other people’s needs first and I knew he’d do the same for his child.

  “Ready to go eat?” Grant asked me and my stomach growled. Just the mere thought of Aunt Gloria and Uncle Franco’s food triggered that response despite the nervousness that had been residing in my gut as I prepared myself for seeing Dominic’s family in
full force.

  We passed the man at the door and Grant nodded at him. Miranda and my mom walked on ahead so I pulled Grant off to the side at the top of the steps.

  “Why the muscle?” I asked, gesturing towards the soldier. “Is something going on?”

  “No in fact there really isn’t much going on at all and it’s the quietest it’s been since…” he trailed off and stared out past my shoulder. “Shit.”

  “What?”

  “Just a feeling. It hasn’t been this quiet since before all of the Nucci shit went down.”

  “Oh,” I shared in his sinking feeling. One of the reasons why Grant even considered me working at Crimson was because things were calm in the mob world. Only a few months later did another family try to gain control. The attempt was bloody, violent, and I somehow wound up in the middle.

  “Dom isn’t Marco and I’m sure he doesn’t have nearly as many enemies. Just because it’s quiet doesn’t mean something bad is going to happen. Take it for what it is and enjoy the moment.”

  Grant sighed and rubbed his hand along the back of his neck. “You’re right. I’m probably just being paranoid.”

  We walked down the stairs and caught up with mom and Miranda. They were waiting outside of Grant’s Audi.

  “Is everything okay?” Miranda asked looking from me to Grant.

  “Yup, all good,” Grant kissed her cheek before opening the door for her.

  I got into the backseat and we were off to Franco’s Restaurant and to what was bound to be a full-on Grabano experience for my mom. If she had noticed anything unusual about Miranda’s family, she hadn’t mentioned it. After tonight she might be slightly more suspicious. How Grant planned on keeping his life a secret from her was beyond me. Then again, as I knew from personal experience, he was really good at keeping secrets.

  Chapter 7

  When we turned onto the block, cars were parked on either side, almost bumper to bumper. I had never seen it so packed and with more luxury cars than not; Mercedes, BMWs, Jaguars, and Cadillacs lined the street. Just when I thought we were going to have to park on another block, Grant pulled up to an empty space directly in front of the restaurant. A soldier, similarly dressed to the man at the church, was standing in the space keeping it free. Recognizing Grant’s car, he stepped up on the curb and watched while Grant expertly maneuvered his car into the spot. I always envied his parallel parking skills.

  “Well, that’s service,” my mom commented.

  “Bride and groom get special treatment,” Miranda said. “My aunt and uncle really go over the top.”

  Miranda wasn’t lying. I had been to Franco’s restaurant several times on dates with Dom, but never for a family occasion. The moment we walked inside, we were assaulted with hugs and kisses on our cheeks. My mom looked overwhelmed with all of the contact, but she went with the flow. Suddenly I was wrapped in a suffocating hug that smelled of garlic, onions and a variety of other spices. I recognized that smell and immediately returned the hug, my eyes misting with tears. I had no idea how much I missed this family until I was back in their fold.

  “Natalie, let me look at you,” Aunt Gloria said as she stepped away, holding me at arm’s length as she began her inspection. She clucked a few times with her tongue and shook her head. “You’re too skinny. Go, eat, I made extra of your favorite.” I laughed and started to walk in the direction she pointed, but she stopped me with a gentle tug on my arm. “It’s good to see you, honey.” She winked once before turning her attention to my mother who had silently watched our whole exchange.

  I ran into Uncle Franco next as he was setting bottles of wine on tables. There were three long tables set up in what used to be a parlor when the restaurant was a house. Deep red tablecloths covered the tables along with ivory table runners that had silver and black embroidery along the edges. The runners must have been custom made for their length. White plates with a silver rim were set on top of silver chargers. The restaurant had been transformed into something more fitting for royalty.

  “Natalie!” Uncle Franco pulled me into a hug that was not as all-consuming as his wife’s. “I’m glad you’re here. How are you?” He raised an eyebrow and I knew he wasn’t going to accept a generic answer.

  “I’m adjusting. It’s nice to see everyone, but a little strange. It’s hard to explain.”

  “I understand. Our family can be…well, you know.” He chuckled and it rumbled deep in his chest.

  “Oh, I know,” I laughed with him and glanced around the room. “Where should I sit?”

  “Grant and Miranda are at the head of this table, so you’ll sit here. Dominic is sitting at the head of the middle table and Dante is the head of that table.” He pointed to the one closest to the arched entry way.”

  “So the leadership sits at the heads of the tables.”

  “Yes, it’s been like that since I can remember with the boss sitting in the middle, between his Capos.”

  My mom joined us at that point so we stopped talking and I introduced them. Franco was more reserved, only shaking hands with her and my mom relaxed when she realized she wasn’t getting yanked into another hug.

  “We’re sitting here,” I told her and we took two seats near where Grant and Miranda were going to sit. We had a view of the entry way and our backs were to the fireplace.

  People filled the room and the volume increased as if they were trying to out talk each other. Servers worked the room, refilling glasses and wine flowed freely.

  “Do you want any?” I asked my mom and she shook her head.

  “I can’t because of the medication I’m on. Even if I wasn’t, alcohol is a depressant.”

  “Oh, okay.” I poured water in her glass from a crystal pitcher. Several small bowls full of sliced lemons were on the table, most likely for seafood dishes, but my mom grabbed a wedge for her water.

  Gradually the seats were filled. Dominic caught my eye before he sat down at the head of his table. He smiled at me, a megawatt smile; all straight white teeth and dimples that immediately made my pulse pound and my mouth dry. Bastard, he knew what buttons to push. I quickly looked away and noticed Dominic’s mom, Angela, watching me. She gave me a little wave and a tentative smile. At first I thought she’d be disappointed to see me since she had given me money and encouraged me to get out of Philly. Yet, here I was. The only difference now was that I had the freedom to leave if I wanted to without fearing for my life.

  Soon the food was brought out and the loud conversations died down, replaced with the clatter and scrape of silverware against china. Toasts were made and just like at a wedding, every time someone tapped a spoon against a glass, Grant and Miranda had to kiss. They were going to need some Chapstick before the night was over.

  Paulina sat across from me and dabbed her eyes frequently throughout the night. She made a few references to how much Marco would love this and that, but Miranda asked her to stop.

  “It’s so tragic what happened to Miranda’s father. That’s why I don’t live in the city – it’s too dangerous,” my mom whispered in my ear.

  Fortunately, my mom lived in York and wasn’t around to hear all of the news stories with speculation over Marco’s murder. She believed the story Grant fed her; that Marco was a victim of a carjacking.

  I was busy stuffing my face with calamari, garlic knots, eggplant parmesan (my favorite) and clam linguine. Between the wine and the carbs, my belly was full and I was feeling sated. Excusing myself from the table I left the dining area and walked down the main hallway to the bathroom. After fixing my hair and reapplying lip gloss, I stepped out into the hall, surprised to see Dominic leaning against the opposite wall waiting for me.

  “Hey, can I talk to you…outside?” he asked.

  “Sure.”

  Dominic led me through the steamy kitchen and out the back door to a small alley that ran behind the entire block. We moved several doors down, away from a dumpster that was rank with the stench of rotting seafood and other food. Night had descended
upon the city and only back patio lights illuminated the uneven concrete. Weeds had already sprung up through the cracks and unseen critters scurried away from our footsteps.

  “What do you want to talk about?”

  He turned to face me and took my hands in his. “I’m sorry about earlier, in the church. It’s hard for me to not touch you.” He squeezed my hands for emphasis. “I want you to know that you’re it for me.”

  “Dom,” I started to say more, but he silenced me with a soft kiss; a brush of his lips against mine.

  “There are some things I want to run by you, but after the wedding. I don’t want to detract from Grant and Miranda’s day. Can you give me one night?”

  He was so serious and his face cast in shadows, combined with his pleading tone, only exaggerated the effect.

  “Of course, I’m here for another week, let me know when.”

  “The day after tomorrow? I don’t think I can wait much longer.”

  “Okay.”

  “Great, we’ll do brunch. I’ll pick you up at the hotel.”

  We were about ready to head back the rehearsal dinner when we heard footsteps. Dominic reacted quickly and stood in front, blocking me from whoever was approaching.

  “Frankie, what is it?” Dominic asked. He moved to the side, letting me know there wasn’t a threat.

  “Sorry boss, Rico wanted me to keep an eye on you.”

  “You don’t take orders from my dad. You take them from me, Dante, Grant or Miranda. That’s fucking it. Got it?”

  “Yeah, boss, I understand.”

  “Good, now go back inside. I’ll deal with my dad later.”