by Amarie Avant
“A mass dumping ground, Zaccaro. I do believe our Reese prefers to keep a certain level of separation between you and I,” Giugliano stands. He reaches out a hand, “Now the name is Sal, I’ll call you Tino.”
For Reese’s sake I shake hands with the devil.
He pulls me to him, pats my back. “You’re family, Tino. And my granddaughter loves you.”
He laughs boisterously, “Reese doesn’t know how to show it. Napolitano blood but so inept at love. Fucking Italian yet uneducated in the ways of adoration. Tino, let’s take you to the woman of the hour.”
I breathe easy.
In the dining room, there’s a long stretch of table. The mass cluttering of silver chargers and the feast before me is all a blur. There are people seated on either side and soldiers posted against the wall.
“Evan!”
I hear her voice before I see her, and my fucking heart beats so wildly in my chest as Reese come from the opposite entrance of the room. A royal-purple ball gown is clasped in her hands, and pulled up since it sweeps and sways across the floor. She’s about fifty-yards away, but running every inch of it. I brace myself as she wraps her arms around me. I won’t complain, I close my eyes, breathe in the top of her head.
“I’m so sorry,” she’s crying to me. Reese reaches up and kisses me. Glancing at the nick on my chin, she says, “Oh, who the fuck hurt you, Evan, I’ll kill them.”
But she doesn’t realize that her squeezing my waist is more pain than the superficial bruises to my face.
I’m a fucking man outta control when Reese is gone. All I want to do is take her in, hold her close and leave these motherfuckers behind. Yet, Reese takes my inability to speak for anger on my part. Eyes full of tears, Reese says, “Oh, Evan don’t be mad at me, baby.”
I brush my hand across her cheek. “You have to learn to listen, babe.”
“Where is the Dom? There should be champagne for everyone! We are having a celebration, aren’t we?” Salvatore shouts from behind me. He pats my shoulder. The demented man who had argued about his son holding Reese hostage, and the other crazy McGregor, has been replaced by a family man. Pride radiates in the form of a smile.
“And a fresh batch of apple cider for Reese,” he winks.
I turn to Reese. She nods, rivers flowing down her cheeks. Even in the dull ache of a pain, I fall to my knees before her, and my forehead kisses softly against her stomach. There’s no greater feeling than becoming aware that my child is growing inside of her. Loving Reese isn’t easy, not in the least, but every second of chaos has always been worth it. We’ve created something beautiful, half of her, half of me. Though Reese will do the carrying, I will move heaven and earth to care for her and my seed.
She rubs my hair, giggling as I kiss her stomach.
The room becomes loud with congratulations to us and our baby.
Salvatore says, “See, Tino, I knew I’d like you.”
About fifteen minutes later, Reese is seated next to Salvatore at the head of the table, me to her left, and a man who introduces himself as her half-brother Matteo to my left. Sal goes down the line introducing Reese and I to her family, from uncles and aunts to their offspring. And a woman, mid-fifties, dressed in black is the only one frowning, I wait to learn her name. Adela.
“We’ll be leaving after dinner,” Reese says.
“Alright, it’d be nice for you to stay. But I am a man of my word, I said I would have your answer, and…” he pauses to glance at a watch, “And the answer to all of your questions will walk in that very door in about ten minutes.”
“Thank you.”
Her answer? What answer, and what question? There’s no opportunity for inquiry as Sal smiles at her, nodding his head. He places a hand over Reese’s. “This one, this one have I loved before I even knew her, I loved her!” She sinks ever so subtly closer to me. Sal senses it, but smiles more.
“You remind me of Milo, in everything you do,” he says, then picks up the champagne flute, downing it in one gulp.
Reese reminds him of Milo? My eyebrow rises, and Sal continues with his speech, “There was a day, Milo was all about family. My golden boy! He was once a beautiful soul, Reese. The most beautiful of them all. He only struck when provoked, when family, our blood was in harm’s way. I knew you were Milo’s daughter the second you threatened my life,” he turns to acknowledge the rest of us, “Reese here threatened my life over Tino.”
“Ohhhh,” some say, some laugh, some are in shock. And others hold up their drinks to toast.
“Yeah,” Sal nods. “That’s true love. If I don’t know what love is, then I don’t know shit!”
“GIOVANNI, YOU LET HER THREATEN YOU!” Adela says through seething teeth.
The once jubilant room has quieted in an instant. The Boss’s smile fades. His warm brown eyes decrease in temperature rapidly, and when they land on Adela, there obsidian. They’re full of the same hatred he adhered to as he asked if I believe he and Milo where one in the same. Psychotic. His pupils mirror the hell he anticipates unleashing on Adela.
“Who is she,” I whisper to Reese. Most of the family was introduced with their subsequent relationship title, Adela was simply Adela.
“Milo’s wife,” Reese murmurs as one of the foot soldiers steps behind the woman in black.
“Oh God, Evan,” Reese grabs my forearm, face a flurry of worry. “Sal said, family calls him Sal. The Family… his goons… the motherfuckers he associates with call him Giovanni. He doesn’t consider Adela as his family,” She whispers. And then she arises from her seat. “Sal, please don’t take offense, Adela was your son’s wife.”
I grab Reese’s hand and pull her back into her chair. I don’t give a shit about the woman. Arm around her shoulder, I lean in and say, “Babe, allow him to deal with his people any way he sees fit. You are my priority, Reese’s Pieces, stay out of it.”
Sal’s index finger taps the air once more as he thinks. “You have my word, Reese. Adela, you are a guest in my house, an extended guest at that. Reese is blood, not ‘she’!” his voice tappers off, he looks at Reese as if her request is his restraint. “Adela, if you ever question me again, the vow I’m pledging to Reese ends, capiche? Now, remove yourself from my table and my home.”
Matteo stands, “Sal, por favore, mia mamma non ha dove andare, —please, my mom has nowhere to go,” he beseeches in Italian.
“Matteo, sit down. Dinner before business.”
There’s a loud puff of air as he sits beside me yet again.
45
Reese
We’re right in the thick of things. Before Adela was ostracized and removed from the room, I had recoiled from my grandfather’s love. Sal compared me to my father… I do not know why. He’d touched my hand, his eyes were alight with the adoration one has for their offspring, and yet I nestled myself closer to Evan. Though the atmosphere was exciting and Evan had just found out we were expecting, I was still leery of Sal. I’m here for one reason only.
Now people are passing along serving bowls and filling their own plates to the rim. As I eat, my eyes close softly and I enjoy the taste of fresh pasta and alfredo sauce. I get caught up in the rapture of the familial ambience yet again. I whisper to Evan, “We’ve got some cooking to do when we get home, babe.”
“You sure that isn’t my son talking,” he says rubbing my belly. He’s no longer as tensed as he was when imploring me to let Salvatore handle Adela.
I smile. “Son? Sheesh, if he’s as hardheaded as you, how will I deal?”
I’ve never been openly affectionate since my father. I went from hugs and kisses during kindergarten graduations and elementary school spelling bees, to a brisk kiss to either cheek—on my mother’s part— during her many wedding ceremonial processions, when I was invited to said weddings.
Now, here I am. Learning about the Giuglianos. Laughing, and talking as Evan rubs my belly or nips at my neck and ear while we whisper. All the while, in the back of my mind, lies have mingled and mixed w
ith truth, and I’m here to separate the reality from the fiction of us. Not me and Evan. But Salvatore and I.
Why did he appear in my life? Why force himself upon me when I did not have a need for a grandfather…
Sal pats my hand, “Reese, watching the two of you has made me the happiest that I’ve been in years. I miss my wife dearly. You would have loved your nonna, she would have been inamorato with you. Milo left her too soon.”
“If you’d still like to visit…” I begin, throat becoming thick, realizing Salvatore promised to be out of my life after tonight once he told me the reason why he’s been so invasive in my life. I clear my throat, beaming at him. Perhaps I have never been surrounded by people who cared deeply for each other, but I suggest, “Feel free to come by every once in a while, I’ll bake cannoli for you again.”
I stare at a man who has taken lives and not only that, set wars in procession, and my heart feels light, and airy and heavily consumed with love all at the same time. I never had grandparents prior to the shock of learning about Sal.
“I don’t mind.” He pauses for a moment, and then adds, “If you’re inclined, I might also like to meet my grandchild too.”
As soon as I nod in agreement, my eyes widen and I determine that maybe I shouldn’t have been so gullible... My mother, Lolita, is led into the dining room. Her plush lips are tensed, cat-like gaze in slits, as a man grips her slender bicep.
“Mom,” my voice is but a whisper. Gathering my wits about me, I shout, “Mom!” I push from the heavy chair so hard that the sound of it screeching over marble scrapes at my eardrums.
“What is my mom doing here?” I glare at my grandfather, gripping my fork on the table so tightly that my knuckles ache.
“To tell the secrets she’s kept.” His lips barely move. There’s a level of polarity that I’ve noticed in my mother from time to time as a child, the same rift is now my grandfather. But I do not believe he suffers from any psychosis aside from a mission to be king. My hand hurts as I let the fork go.
Sal glares through my mother and a cool chill trickles down my spine.
His gaze is deadly. He means my mother harm, and that is something I will not allow…
46
Evan
My words echo into Reese’s ear. As I glance into her eyes, I perceive that she hasn’t caught a single word I’ve said. A single request to just hear her grandfather out has woven through her ears yet again. No, she is standing, as is Sal. But Reese is holding a fucking steak knife to his neck.
A sea of guns CLICK from their safety position.
Lolita shouts, “STOP!” as does Salvatore.
The men wait to be retold their order, they don’t seem to comprehend since their Boss is being threatened. Though under other circumstances, I presume that their allegiance would have indicated for Reese to be shot the second she showed aggression to the Boss.
A trickle of blood dots the fat, fleshy folds on his neck.
“Leave my mother alone, Sal,” Reese says. I calculate how to extract the knife from her hand, but any sudden movement and Giugliano’s carotid artery will rain with blood.
He turns his face to her, his neck spearing into the tip of the knife a tad more. Salvatore stares Reese eye to eye, stating, “Lolita has things she needs to say to you. And if she doesn’t say them, I cannot guarantee my love for you will save her life!”
Reese’s hand is shaking, “If you murder my mom, I’ll… she… she is all I have, Sal, please!”
“Then implore your mother to be utterly motherfucking transparent, Reese. That’s the only promise I can offer you at this time.”
Reese bites her bottom lip.
“Get that motherfucking gun outta her face!” I shout at the closest guy next to us.
Sal finally looks around him once more. He again orders, “Stand down! Reese is not to be hurt regardless of what transpires.”
The knife is lowered from his neck, and Reese hands it to me. I take my first breath in ages, bringing my arm around Reese’s tiny waist, claiming what belongs to me. Not an hour ago, while before her and my child, I made a claim to keep the two safe. I don’t give a fuck about her mother.
“Mom,” Reese says.
Lolita is seated across from us at the center of the table. “Is this necessary?”
“Talk, Mom,” Reese says, eyebrows furrowed. She pushes her way into my arms, I grimace as I pull her tightly to me, and we sit. The rest of Reese’s family waits for Salvatore, once he sits, they slowly make their way into their own chairs.
Reese’s mother rolls her eyes. “Must I speak with all of these people in here?”
“Talk now!” Reese slams down a hand against the table.
Lolita’s mouth is set to reprimand her daughter, but a goon places a hand on her shoulder.
She turns to glare at him, and then turns back around. Arms folded, Lolita begins, “I met your father in college, Reese. Milo was going to be a doctor at New York University. He chose to attend in the States, that’s what he told me. He was handsome, but too short my tastes. Milo had completed his GE courses with a 4.0, and had just started on his concentration when I found out he was the son of the Boss of Bosses.” Lolita’s eyes shift toward Salvatore. “I suggested—”
“You manipulated,” Salvatore interjects.
“I suggested to Milo to change his major to something more appropriate,” Lolita replies. For someone knee deep in the heat, she has a frown on her face. “I stopped seeing other men when Milo grew the fuck up and decided to become a cop. Milo worked his way up the system. He had an objective of becoming a Fed. He wanted to prove himself to his father, Giovanni never gave him a job.”
“A job!” Salvatore rubs a hand over his mouth, he’s at the edge of insanity. And I realize that the man is starring as every parent’s nightmare, the monster who turns their child for the worst. Milo had once been good, and that’s why Salvatore was so angry when inquiring as to how I perceived the two. The Giugliano crime boss doesn’t give a fuck how he is seen since other people’s perceptions will not steer his actions. Yet in that instant, he made a query. And I claimed that they were one in the same.
I hate Lolita. Never trusted her, and my stomach churns at the thought of Reese endeavoring to protect Lolita.
Lolita gives a seedy sigh, disinterested in her daughter’s feelings. “While on the beat, Milo started getting kickbacks from petty criminals. Then over the next six years, he stole kilos upon kilos of cocaine from the evidence locker. Sold some shit, snorted some shit. And he handed over intel to his thugs, and the Mexican Cartel. Oh, once he made friends with those Juarez motherfuckers, that was the end of him. Doped up every day, but let him tell it, he was a God. I didn’t persuade Milo to become a dirty cop, I told him to get back in his father’s good graces!”
Her eyes sparkled as if the thought of Milo becoming the next Don had been her solitary goal.
Instead of speaking, Reese turns toward me, she nudges her head into my neck and she cries.
Salvatore arises from his seat. “Take them all back to Los Angeles.”
I had handed the key to Vinny’s sports car to one of Matteo’s other brothers since he left during Lolita’s story to help his mother gather her things. The flight home was silent. Now we are all on the landing strip, stepping out of Salvatore’s private jet.
It’s now early morning. The sun is worming its way past skyscraper buildings as Reese and I descend first, since her mother sat toward the back of the tiny plane, and my girl couldn’t even look the bitch’s way.
“I’ve been instructed to take the two of you home,” says a man in a driver’s uniform, a cap on top of his head.
“And my m… Lolita, who will take her?” Reese asks.
The driver cocks his head toward another Cadillac.
For the first time, Reese peers over her shoulders. Lolita is a few paces behind us. She accepts her daughter’s gesture as an opening and steps toward us. “Reese, Reese’s Pieces…”
Ree
se gets into the car and I close the door.
Lolita stops before me. Arms folded beneath her breasts, she pushes them up somewhat. “She’s my daughter, ya know.”
“I’m highly aware.” My jaw sets rigidly.
“Good, and don’t you forget it. Reese wants a family, always has, always will. I’m blood. The babe growing in her belly is blood too. You are not. And just that alone makes you all the more replaceable, Tino.” She spits out my nickname.
I nod slowly. “Replaceable? Yes, that’s probably true when it comes to the image of love. But unfortunately for you, what Reese and I have is real, get what I’m saying? What you’ve had with her father, my father, and a slew of other men, that is not true love.”
“Oh shut the fuck up, kiddo.”
For Reese’s sake, I continue to advise, “I’m a cop, Lolita, I’ve seen some crazy shit. Lust takes a person down to their knees.”
“I don’t mind being taken down to my knees,” she says licking her lips and backing away.
My jaw sets. Fucking Tony, wise up old man.
47
Reese
Lolita didn’t have any regard for me, she just regurgitated the life she forced my father into. While she spoke, I clung to Evan, and I clung to each morsel of a father who’d been taken from me. It all concluded with Sal dismissing the three of us. The powerful man was dejected, his pain palpable.
Why is the bad in each other so easily conjured to memory? Every once in a while, I reminisce on the good in Milo, it bleeds through the nightmares and warms my soul. On the long plane ride to L.A., I ruminated on the past. Though as I aged, the golden boy Salvatore spoke of went extinct. I recall dad, my mom and I traveling up the coast of California in search for the best ice cream. Santa Barbara had the best vanilla ice cream. My father’s favorite was pistachio, and I recall San Mateo had become his favorite place for it. All along our trip, Lolita grumbled about the misty air and how it ruined her hair. My mother, the parasite, never attended my spelling bees without dad. When he was out-of-town, I had nobody in the crowd hooting and hollering and cheering for me. And as far as training goes? Milo sat with me, giving me techniques to remember how to spell the words.