Oh, I get it.
She’s going for the innocent look.
The ‘I didn’t just have your son’s mouth on my pussy’ look.
Cute.
My mother scrutinizes Antonia for another minute before looking back at me.
“You have a girl in your apartment.”
“Are you sure you’re not a detective?” I ask, mildly amused.
“I was starting to wonder if you were gay.”
My mouth hangs open in shock. Did she really just say that?
“What?”
“Don’t what me! You’re almost thirty. I should have three grandchildren by now.” She slices her eyes back to Antonia. “It’s so good to meet you, honey.” Then the smile falls from her face and her eyes go wide again. “Father Murphy said you got into a scuffle over a girl. Is this the reason you broke the sacred saint?”
“It’s a good story to tell the grandkids, no?” I retort, ignoring Antonia’s red cheeks and the lethal glare she shoots my way.
“You’re pregnant?”
“What? No!”
“She might be,” I say thoughtfully, recalling our stint in the shower.
“For fuck’s sake, I’m not pregnant! I’m on the pill,” Antonia shrieks.
Hmm.
That should be a relief, and yet I find myself mildly disappointed. I guess I’ve officially lost my mind. Pushing the crazy thoughts out of my head, my eyes dart between the two women in my life.
“Are you religious, dear?”
“Not particularly.”
“Then you don’t know what a mortal sin my son just committed.”
“With all due respect, it was an accident,” Antonia defends.
“That saint is decades old. A timeless tradition, and now it’s a pile of trash.”
“Oh, please, it was ugly as shit,” I say. “I’ve had nightmares about that thing since I was a kid.”
“You’re gonna have nightmares tonight when I smack you silly,” my mother threatens, shoving open the window. “This place is full of smoke.”
“That’s my fault too,” Antonia admits miserably. “I tried to cook breakfast.”
My mother’s head turns.
“You don’t know how to cook?”
“Nope,” Antonia says, smacking her lips together. “I’m not the ideal candidate for your son.”
“You have a uterus, honey, you’ll do.”
* * *
“I really like your mom,” Antonia says as she climbs into my bed.
After the smoke cleared, my mom got to work on making us a real breakfast. The two bonded over bacon and eggs and I sat there trying not to read too much into it. Not only did she fit perfectly around Tig and Delia, but she also got along with my mother even though the woman offered to track her period to determine what days she was most fertile.
Once the table was cleared, and numbers were exchanged, my mother announced she was leaving us to go to church. But before she left, she made me write her a check to replace the saint and offered me my grandmother’s engagement ring to give to Antonia. By lunchtime, I was six hundred dollars poorer, horny, and on the verge of getting married.
Antonia decided we should get out of the house for a little while and so we went to the supermarket where I picked up the ingredients I needed to cook us dinner. When we got back to the apartment, I put on the Yankee game and popped open a beer. I was surprised to find out Antonia loved baseball too.
Her phone rang a few times during the game. I assumed it was her father or someone for the club, but she told me it was her mother. She got quiet after that and I asked her what was wrong. She told me her mother was the complete opposite of mine and she resented her for leaving Tank. She also revealed her mom as one of the best criminal defense lawyers in New York City and her number one client was her ex-husband.
That threw me for a loop, but I didn’t say anything.
We cooked dinner together—well, I cooked. After the breakfast fiasco, I left her in charge of the salad. She couldn’t set the house on fire slicing a cucumber.
Now, it’s long past dinner, and I’m fucking exhausted. All I want to do is sleep and she wants to talk about my mother…again.
I love my mother, but no thank you.
“C’mere,” I whisper, spreading my arms wide for her. She nestles against my side and leans over the nightstand to shut the lamp. “Good night,” I murmur, kissing the top of her head.
“Marco?”
“Hmm?”
“Did you mean what you said yesterday?”
She’s going to have to be more specific. I’ve said a lot of shit in the last twenty-four hours. I have had a lot of insane thoughts too.
“About coming with me to the clubhouse?” she clarifies.
My eyes spring open as she lifts her head from my chest and meets my gaze.
“To get your things?”
“If it comes down to that, but I thought you could talk to him and maybe make him understand that being a cop is just a small piece of the man you are.”
I don’t know that me being a cop is a small piece of anything when it comes to Tank DeLuca.
“Forget it,” she says. “It’s a stupid idea. Being around your mom today, made me think of him and how I wish he wasn’t so stubborn…” her voice trails and she glances down at her hands, twisting the hem of her t-shirt. “I’m happy,” she whispers. “These last two days have been the best days I’ve had in…well, a long time. But it sucks being happy and not being able to share it with the person you love most in this world.” She looks back at me. “We’ve been fighting a lot lately and I suppose that’s partially my fault. I’m not the easiest person to get along with—something you should probably know before we take this any further. When I get something in my head, I run with it. There’s no changing my mind. And no one can tell me I can’t do something because that word simply isn’t part of my vocabulary. I’ll only work ten times harder to prove I can.”
“Antonia—”
“He doesn’t get that…my dad.”
He’s a fool, a goddamn fool. If I had a daughter, I would never clip her wings. I may not agree with everything she wants or does, but I think a parent can only offer their guidance. Eventually, they need to let go. Kids are going to make mistakes. It’s part of the journey. But a parent should never discourage their child to follow their hearts. They should never be told they can’t try something different because that thing they don’t necessarily agree with, may be the one thing that changes their whole life.
I place a finger to her lips, silencing.
“Babe, can we put the coming to Jesus moment on hold so I can answer your question?”
She nods softly.
“Since we’re being open and honest, you should know a few things about me too. I don’t say things I don’t mean. I told you I would take you to the clubhouse and I will. You want me to talk to him, to plead my case, I’ll do that too.”
“You will?”
“If it makes you happy, yeah.”
She throws her arms around my neck and presses a wet kiss to my lips. I smile against her mouth, realizing I mean those words with every fiber of my being.
If making nice with her dad keeps her smiling, I’m all in.
“I’ll pick you up after work and we’ll head over there tomorrow.”
She pulls back an inch and our eyes lock.
“You’re too good to be true, Pirelli.”
Nah, I’m just tired and in need of a CAT scan.
Chapter Twenty-One
Antonia
Spending the weekend with Marco and meeting some of his family was bittersweet. On one hand, I was thrilled. Tig and Delia were cool as fuck and Marco’s mom, Carmella, she reminded me of the actress Katherine Narducci in the movie A Bronx Tale. She had no filter and nothing but love for her son. All in all, Marco’s family was great, and they all made me feel like I was one of them. Like I belonged.
But on the other hand, it made me miss my dad. I don�
�t mean in the physical sense, either. I missed the relationship we used to have and the more I thought about it, the more I realized things didn’t change because of my new job. They have been changing since I hit puberty. The internship was just the straw that broke the camel’s back.
Fathers and daughters are tricky.
A dad is a little girl’s first love. He’s a consistent hero throughout her childhood. The man who scares away the monsters under the bed and kisses all her boo-boos. The guy who teaches her how to pedal a bike and the one who let’s go of the seat when the training wheels are off, giving her room to fly on her own.
But something shifts when those awkward teen years show up.
The man becomes scared of the little girl. He realizes there is a clock ticking somewhere in the distance and one day he’s going to have to share her. He tries to prepare himself, but nothing helps. The hands that once pushed her to fly suddenly try to pull her back.
He wishes for more time.
For a pause button.
He tries to rewind the track and all he winds up doing is breaking the one thing he tried to preserve.
My dad may do bad things, but he’s still my dad.
He’s still my first love.
The hero of my childhood.
This thing between me and Marco, it’s not going anywhere. At least that’s the impression I got this weekend and if I’m being honest, I don’t want it to. For the first time in my adult life, I’m happy. There’s this guy, and he’s everything I never knew I wanted, and he wants me just the way I am. He’s not some guy looking to climb the ranks of his club and he’s not looking to put my dad behind bars either.
He’s in it for me.
Just me.
A girl shouldn’t have to choose between her dad and the man that makes her happy. The man she can see herself loving. The one who may be the hero of the rest of her story.
That’s why I asked Marco to come with me to speak with my dad. If I could bridge the gap between us and somehow make him see Marco wasn’t the enemy, then maybe my dad and I could repair all the damage adolescence left in its wake.
Being the amazing guy, he is, Marco agreed. I knew that took a lot from him too. Like my father took an oath to serve his club, Marco took an oath to protect and serve the city of New York. They would never see eye to eye on a lot of things, but Marco was willing to try, and that’s all I could ask for.
After he dropped me off at work, I called my dad. He didn’t answer, and that worried me. Despite our differences, we had never gone this long without speaking. I sent him a text message, telling him I would be stopping by after work and left out the fact that I would be with Marco.
It’s been hours since I sent that message and still no response. I can’t focus on the emails coming through because in the pit of my stomach, I know something is wrong. Normally, I’d call one of the guys to check in and make sure one of my dad’s enemies didn’t leave him riddled with bullets on the side of the road, but that bridge is burned.
The princess of the motorcycle club has been knocked off her chrome throne and labeled a traitor.
Sighing, I twist the paperclip I’ve been playing with for the last hour. My phone lights up with an incoming call and relief washes over me when I see my father’s name appear on the screen. Tossing the office supplies aside, I accept the call and lift the phone to my ear.
“Dad?”
“Listen to me very carefully,” he grinds out. “I know you’re set on living your own life and fucking me in the process, but you need to put our shit aside and get your ass to compound immediately. Ritmo is outside waiting for you. Antonia, this is a matter of life and death. The entire club is on lockdown. There is no time for you to throw a fit or go fucking rogue on my ass. You hear me?”
I swallow hard.
There is an edge to the tone of his voice, one that I’ve come accustomed to. It’s a sure sign he’s not bluffing.
“For fuck’s sake, speak!”
“Okay,” I whisper hoarsely. “I’m leaving now,” I say quickly and before I can disconnect the call, I’m on my feet. Slinging my bag over my shoulder, I pocket my phone. I don’t bother powering off my computer, nor do I tidy up my desk. I don’t even knock when I storm into Soraya’s office. I tell her I have a family emergency and that I need to leave immediately.
It sounds better than saying, hey, I gotta go. Everyone in my family is a criminal, and we’re all on lockdown.
Without giving her a chance to respond, I flee her office as quickly as my boots carry me and opt for the stairs instead of the elevator. It’s quicker and time is of the essence.
When I finally reach the garage and spot Ritmo a sense of dread washes over me. It’s as if my body and mind are working to warn me something terrible is about to happen.
I wish I wouldn’t have dismissed it so easily.
Maybe then I would’ve been prepared for the moment my world came crashing down.
They say you never see the bad guys coming.
Well, I never saw the crooked cop coming.
Shame on me.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Marco
“How was your weekend, Pirelli?” Richie asks as he looks over the selection of donuts in the breakroom. I don’t know why he bothers. The guy never strays from the Boston Cream.
Leaving him to his donut woes, I think about the question. At the risk of sounding like a total pussy, I contemplate telling him the truth. It was the best fucking weekend of my life. But that would cause the poor bastard to spit his coffee out and Judy would have my balls in a vise for ruining the donuts.
“It was great. Tig and Delia were surprised, and everyone loved Antonia, including my mother.”
There, short and sweet.
So why the fuck does he still spit his coffee all over the donuts?
“You introduced her to your mother?” he admonishes, wiping the coffee from the front of his uniform.
“Judy’s going to kill you, man,” I point out, handing him a stack of napkins. He snatches them from me and narrows his eyes.
“Don’t change the subject,” he says.
“I didn’t purposely introduce them,” I explain with a sigh. “I took Antonia to the feast on Friday and I got into a scuffle. The Santa Rosalia statue broke and the priest who gave me my First Holy Communion decided to rat me out to my mom. She came over on Sunday to have me write a check to the church and Antonia was there.”
I purposely leave out the details on how the saint broke. If I tell Richie I got into a fight with Hound and had words with Tank, I’m sure he’ll have something to say and I’m not ready to deal with it. When word gets out that things between me and Antonia are serious, there’s going to be talk around the department. My patience will likely be tested and my reputation as a cop may even be tarnished.
“Did your mother give her hell? God, I wish I was a fly on the wall,” Richie says. “I can just picture it.”
It was something that’s for sure.
“Pirelli! Galante!” Judy calls.
“Shit,” Richie murmurs.
“You’re dead.”
“Put your street clothes back on and grab your vests. Sergeant Floyd needs all hands on deck.”
Richie and I exchange a look. Floyd seldom recruits us to his unit which only means something big must be going down. My guess is they’re finally ready to move in on the mob case they’ve been building.
“Well, don’t just stand there. Get a move on!”
“Yes, sir!” Richie says. “I mean Sarge…”
Stifling a laugh, I watch Judy flip him off before disappearing out of the breakroom. Turning to Richie, I loop my thumbs through my belt.
“Looks like Dinaso and Floyd are ready to put a pin in Bendetti.”
“And here I thought the highlight of my day was going to be you telling me about your mom and your girlfriend,” he retorts as he starts for the door.
I never thought the day would come but, I suppose he’s right, A
ntonia is my girlfriend and if things don’t work out with her father, later on, she may even be my live-in girlfriend. Talk about a mindfuck. Things are moving at lightning speed and I’m not even bothered by it.
Richie and I hurry to our lockers and change into our regular clothes. I grab my bulletproof vest and fit it to my body, securing the tabs at my chest before pulling the chain with my badge over my neck. Lastly, I check the safety on my gun and slide my piece into my holster.
A break in patrol duty is a welcome reprieve and Richie and I are eager to help. We meet the unit in the back of the precinct. However, there is no time to brief us on what’s going on and we’re told they will catch us up to speed on the way to the sting.
We climb into the back of the van where they wire us with recording devices and give us earpieces so that we can remain in contact with Floyd during the raid. We drive through the Brooklyn Battery Tunnel and I turn to Richie.
“Floyd didn’t mention anything about Brooklyn.”
“He didn’t mention anything about anything. He ordered us to the van, and that’s that. We can be walking into a fucking massacre for all we know,” he mutters as he inches forward and focuses on the two undercover detectives in the front of the van. “Hey, you guys wanna tell us what the hell we’re doing?”
“Dinaso will fill you in.”
Richie quirks a brow and turns to me.
“Tony isn’t even here,” he mumbles.
Realizing this thing is going to eat up most of my day, I pull out my phone to call Antonia and tell her I might be late. I really hate to do that to her, especially since she’s set on having me talk with her old man.
Just as I go to hit send, the van comes to a stop and the back doors swing open. Tony Dinaso jumps in, all out of breath, and parks his ass on the bench across from me and Richie.
Deciding the call to Antonia is going to have to wait, I pocket my phone and stare at my buddy as he tries to catch his breath. His eyes dart to me, and a wicked grin appears on his lips.
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