Now the time has finally come and all the preparing I’ve done throughout the years is lost. I have no idea how to do this. They’re going to have questions, ones I don’t have the answers to. I wonder if I knew thirty years ago this was how it was going to end, if I would’ve married him and vowed to stand by him until death do we part.
“Ma, how many times do we have to tell you to lock the door?”
Adrianna’s voice startles me and I jump before spinning around to face her and Anthony.
“She’s right, Grace,” my son-in-law adds before bending down to kiss my cheek.
“I could’ve sworn I did,” I mumble, forcing a smile as I wrap my arms around my daughter. “Thank you both for coming. I hope Maria didn’t mind watching the kids?” I turn to Anthony and question him with my eyes.
“Watching the kids keeps her out of trouble,” Anthony replies with a shake of the head. “Or at least it stops her from breaking Riggs’ balls.”
That made me smile genuinely as the back door swings open and my youngest storms in like the tornado she was, my smile widening ever so slightly.
“I’m fucking late and I suck but I’m here and I brought Dunkin,” She exclaims waving a Box of Joe enticingly.
“Where’s Mikey?” Adrianna asks, grabbing the mugs from the cabinet.
“He’ll be here, he had to see a customer about an estimate,” Nikki explains as she hugs me. “I miss you,” she whispers against my hair before she pulls back a fraction and smiles. “Where are the crazies?”
“They took Nana to bingo at the church,” I explain, laughing at her reference to my in-laws.
“When are they going back home?”
“That depends on when you’re getting married,” I tell her. I’m not pressuring her to get married but a part of me is worried she’s stalling because of Victor. I want to reassure her it’s okay for her to move forward and her father will be there in spirit.
Spirit.
That word makes it sound like he has already passed.
We pull apart as I clear my throat and tip my chin toward the living room. “Why don’t we all have a seat?”
“Ma, I’m not going to lie, you’re freaking me out,” Nikki says warily.
“Yeah, what’s going on? Why the family meeting? Did something happen with dad?”
I avert my eyes between my two girls before turning to Anthony. It hadn’t dawned on me until now that he may already know about Victor’s condition. Staring at him he looks just as anxious as the girls and it became clear that Victor faded Anthony out of the limelight of the organization just as he a promised. I guess there were some things he kept his word about.
“I went to visit your father,” I pause, offering Nikki a smile. “I showed him the photograph of your engagement and told him all about it. He was so happy for you and Michael. He made me promise to tell you to pick out the wedding dress of your dreams.”
I take a moment to keep myself in check, to keep the tears at bay and the emotion buried, reminding myself this isn’t about me. It’s not about my feelings but rather my girls, our girls. Nikki glances down, toying with her engagement ring before looking back at me.
“It fucking sucks he won’t be at my wedding,” she admits, turning to her sister. “It was fitting your son gave you away to Anthony, the three of you were becoming a family.” She violently wipes away a tear.
“And you’ll have me to walk you down the aisle,” I interject. “He asked me to do that you know, to walk you down the aisle, to give your hand to Michael with his blessing.”
“I still feel guilty,” Nikki whispers. “I still blame myself for him being in there.”
“The only one who should be blamed is me,” Adrianna argues. “I’m the one who pulled the trigger. I’m the one who did the crime he confessed to committing. If anyone is to blame for daddy not being at your wedding, it’s me, and I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry I took that from you,” she cries.
“Stop it! Both of you stop it,” I insist, inching forward to take their hands in mine. “Your father is in jail because he deserves to be, because for the last thirty years your father has done a lot of bad things. I never wanted to admit that, especially not to you girls but what’s the use in hiding it when both of you have witnessed him in action, both of you have suffered at the hands of his organization. That was too much for your father to handle, his conscience too heavy with guilt to continue as he was. It was his choice to turn himself in and his alone. Does that mean you should blame him? No, it means he finally earned the respect he always craved. You can be hurt, you’re entitled to be, but you should always have respect for the man who gave his freedom for us to live a life free of his sins. Your father loves you both so much,” I assure, turning to Adrianna and then to Anthony before I continue.
“He is so proud of you two and those babies you created,” I smile, cocking my head as my gaze settles on my son-in-law. “He’s grateful for you.”
Anthony takes a deep breath before giving me a slight nod of his head, showing his appreciation for my words. Anthony wasn’t a man who needed gratification from anyone but having Victor’s appreciation was closure for him. He never wanted to hate Victor, he looked up to him, but my husband was threatened by Anthony’s hold over our daughter’s heart.
“Did you show him Victoria’s picture?” Adrianna asks.
“I did,” I say, looking back at her. “Just as beautiful as her mama.”
“You didn’t call us here to recap your visit,” Nikki whispers. “You’re stalling, ma,” she accuses.
“Your father’s being transferred to a federal prison in North Carolina two weeks from Friday,” I reveal, pausing to gage their reactions.
“I knew that,” Anthony confesses, turning to Adrianna. “That means we need to get you two up to see him at least once before he gets on that bus,” he tells them, knowing all about the last hit Victor was going to commit. Maybe he didn’t fade as much as we all thought he did.
The last hit.
Another promise he’d keep but to the men in leather this time.
“What’s the urgency?” Nikki asks. “I mean I get it, North Carolina isn’t a hop, skip and a jump away but you’re making it like once he gets on that bus we won’t be able to visit him anymore,” she continues.
“He’s being transferred but his visitation will be revoked shortly after he’s gotten his new number,” Anthony explains.
“Why would they do that? Has he done something to get his privileges taken away?” she asks as she looks back and forth between us.
“Your father’s connections will not hold any merit down south,” he answers vaguely.
“Anthony’s right, you need to go visit your father,” I whisper, clearing my throat in hope to find my voice. “I don’t know how the transfer will work but I’m sure you know what you’re talking about,” I say to him, before drawing in a breath. “However, that’s not the reason you need to go.”
I don’t know why my eyes drift to our wedding photo hanging on the wall over the fireplace but they did and I continue to stare at it wishing I could hear his voice, wishing for him to hold my hand and be with me as I say the words that seal our fate.
A woman could wish all she wants, doesn’t mean those wishes will come true. I’ve had my share come true and now it’s time to turn the lamp to someone else. I hope they have better luck than I did. I hope their wishes never turn to burdens.
This was my burden to carry alone.
The burden of truth.
“Visit your father as much as you can over the next two weeks, let him know how much he means to you and reassure him that you forgive him. Promise you’ll never forget him and will always keep him in your hearts. Remind him that you’re happy and swear you’ll take care of each other. Say goodbye to your dad and remember you’ll always be daddy’s little girls,” I whisper, finally peeling my eyes away from the photo on the wall and finding the courage to face Adrianna and Nikki. “Tell him it’s okay and that he can b
e at peace,” I cry, blinking away the tears I tried so hard to hang on to but the words I was asking my daughters to tell their father were also the words I’d have to say myself.
I’m not ready for goodbye.
I’m not ready for the end.
“Victor’s sick,” I sob.
“What do you mean sick?” Adrianna yelps. “Sick as in he’s dying?”
“Dying? What? No,” Nikki whimpers.
“I’m sorry,” I mutter, pulling one of Victor’s silk handkerchiefs from my pocket and wiping my eyes.
“What does he have?” Anthony asks.
“Lung cancer and from the medical records the lawyer showed me it’s really bad. They gave him a year, two years ago.”
“Two years ago? You’ve known he’s been sick for two years and you kept it from us?” Adrianna accuses, rising to her feet as she glares down at me through her sobs.
“He didn’t tell me either, Adrianna. I found out the same day I found out about the transfer,” I argue.
“What about chemotherapy or radiation?” Nikki questions.
“It’s too late its stage four and your father has refused any treatment. I spoke to the family doctor and at this stage the best any doctor would recommend is making the patient comfortable. However, Victor isn’t just any patient, he’s an inmate and they don’t care if he’s in pain or if he’s losing oxygen.”
“I can’t fucking believe this!” Adrianna shouts, wiping her face angrily as she paces.
“Reese’s calm down,” Anthony soothes, rubbing her shoulders only for her to shove his hands away.
“Don’t tell me to calm down! He’s refused treatment for two years! How am I not supposed to be angry about that? For two years he’s been making plans for Rocco, playing fucking ‘chess’ so his goddamn organization remains intact instead of taking care of his health. For two years he made sure he had all his ducks lined in a row when it came to the mob but what about us? What happens to us after he’s gone? We’re the ones who will mourn him long after he’s buried and the suits that come to pay their respects will forget Victor Pastore ever existed!”
“A, that’s enough!” Anthony shouts as he stares at me.
“You mentioned Rocco,” I begin, wondering why she was talking about my nephew. What did my deceased sister’s son have to do with Victor’s organization? “Adrianna, what does Rocco have to do with your father’s business?”
Adrianna crosses her arms under her chest and turns to her husband.
“Go on and tell her,” she demands. “Stop protecting him and tell her.”
He steps closer to her and pins her with a glare.
“I quit protecting your old man a long time ago,” he hisses.
Twisting the handkerchief in my hand, I stand from the sofa and step between them.
“Both of you stop right now,” I order.
“Your dear nephew is now the boss of the Pastore organization,” Adrianna chides. “Daddy wouldn’t give it up, he couldn’t let it go so he groomed Rocco to be the boss. He couldn’t give up the mob but he gave up his life without hesitation.”
I spin around to face Anthony.
“Is it true? Victor gave the business to Rocco?”
“Yes,” he confesses, taking my hand. “Listen to me Grace, everyone’s emotions are all over the place but there’s more to it than just handing over his business to someone.” He glances over my shoulder at Adrianna. “Every mob boss from here to California will now take a page from the book Vic wrote because even in death he protected his family. Don’t think for one minute he wasn’t thinking of everyone standing in this room. He won’t be here to protect the people he loves, but he made sure someone else always would by keeping the business within the family. Handing it over to his nephew, he is keeping his enemies away. If he didn’t name a successor, then we are vulnerable and a free for all to take whatever kind of action they see fit.”
“You were singing a different tune the other day,” Adrianna accuses, her tone more subdued, the fight in her diminishing.
“I didn’t know he was dying, Reese’s. That changes everything, I understand why he made the choice he made. Think about it, since the day they locked your father up he’s always had his hand in something, think back to the visits in the jail and the respect he gets from the COs. Look what he did for Jack, how he helped to get Blackie released, he’s always had some sort of control. The only way he’d ever lose control is if he lost his life.”
My head was spinning trying to make sense of everything Anthony was saying but as much as I wanted to see the silver lining in Victor’s decision I harbored too much resentment. Anthony knew Vic’s business like the back of his hand, he understood the life and its consequences and even knowing that what he was saying was probably true I didn’t want to hear it.
I was so sick of the mob and everything it stood for.
I was always second to the mob, decisions that should’ve been between me and him never were, they were decided between him and his associates, him and his underboss, him and his lawyer.
Just once in thirty years I would like to be asked my opinion.
Just once I would like to come first.
I turn around and spot Nikki sitting on the couch crying staring off into space. Walking over to her, I wrap my arms around her and cradle her to my chest, consoling her as she breaks down and cries.
The front door opens and Michael walks in stopping in his tracks as he glances around the room at us. His eyes zeroing in on Nikki as she pulls out of my embrace and stares back at him.
“You told them?” he asks, stepping toward her but again he freezes causing me to curiously study Nikki’s face.
“Told us what?” I ask, my eyes darting back and forth between the two of them.
“Shit,” Michael hisses.
“Nikki?” I coax, swallowing the lump in my throat.
“I got bad news from my doctor.”
I instantly felt the air leave my lungs as the words left her mouth and I asked myself, how much can one family possibly endure?
Chapter Seventeen
I swipe my hand along my face, scratching at the scruff that lines my jaw as I try to think of what to say to the man sitting across from me. I came here with every intention of ripping Victor a new asshole for springing the whole Rocco thing on me and pulling the wool over my eyes. But before I could give him the lashing he deserved the son of a bitch told me he had lung cancer.
“How long have you known?”
He folds his hands neatly on top of the table as he holds my gaze.
“A while,” he admits vaguely.
My eyes work him over, trying to find the signs I likely ignored but aside from the occasional coughing fit and the few pounds he’d shed, I had nothing. He still looked as dapper as ever. Even in his white canvas sneakers and prison jumpsuit.
Fucker.
“I can’t imagine they send the doctors from Sloan Kettering to this joint,” I seethe, shaking my head as I lean back in my chair.
He smiles faintly.
“It wouldn’t matter if they did. I’ve refused all treatment,” he reveals. I open my mouth to criticize his decision, but I stop myself. I don’t know that I wouldn’t have made the same decision given the circumstances.
“When I found out it was already stage four. There is no use in putting myself through that, putting my family through that, only to prolong the inevitable,” he says as he shrugs his shoulders. “I’m behind bars, Jack, it’s not like I’d have more time to spend with Grace and the girls. They gave me a year tops, it’s been two,” he grins cockily, a trademark just like the suits he used to wear. “It’s like God knows I have a plan I need to see through.”
“Or the devil knows,” I mutter.
All the same,” he agrees.
“Your family know?”
The smile disappears from his face at the mention of his loved ones and he averts his eyes to the other inmates visiting with their families and not their biker buddie
s.
“I told Gracie her last visit up,” he says, turning back to me. “The woman I thought would love me until my death is starting to hate me.”
“Brother, I’ve been in that woman’s presence quite a few times, even after they locked your ass up, she’s got nothing but love for you. The kind that doesn’t die when you do but finds you long after your ass is buried. That woman will be loving you even as the flames climb your limbs and drag you to hell.”
His face remains still as stone as he digests my words, giving them, some thought before he finally speaks.
“You’d know first-hand how easily those flames can climb,” he quipped.
That I do.
There are still times I close my eyes and zone out to the memory of Jimmy Gold’s body helplessly hanging as the flames danced up his body. The image is so vivid and so real I can almost smell the flesh burning, and fuck me, it excites me.
“My lawyer came here yesterday; the transfer is set for the Friday after next.”
“Two weeks,” I reply, blowing out a ragged breath. They were transferring him to a maximum-security prison down south where our number one enemy was caged. Victor would make that motherfucker meet his maker. The G-Man was going down and Victor Pastore was the one making it happen. One last hit for the mobster everyone knew and loved.
“You’ll get word once the job is done,” he assured. “Retribution will finally be served.”
Retribution for the sins my club committed under our previous president’s reign. Retribution for those kids that died on Blackie’s product, for the stash his wife ingested when she killed herself. Retribution for my brother, Danny’s death, and the scars on Reina’s body. Retribution for Vic’s underboss, Val.
But retribution came with a price and that price was Vic’s life. Sure, he was living on borrowed time but once he ripped the life from our enemy he’d be thrown in solitary, spending the rest of his days by himself with nothing but the past to haunt him and the devil waiting to greet him.
The Tempted Series: Collectors Edition Page 170