A mirthless chuckle escaped my lips. “I’m well aware how much it costs,” I replied as I strained to stand even taller. “They included that when I applied for student loans; the loans that were denied thanks to your high legitimate income.”
“All of my income is legitimate.” His finger shook when he pointed it up at me. “And that money provided your room and board, still does. Same with that fancy dress you’re wearing.”
The double doors behind us opened. I blinked at the sudden light from outside. A large figure stood in the doorway, shadowed by the brightness outside. The conversations going on around us ended. I’d only met my father a few times but recognized him by silhouette alone. Of course his own people would too.
His cane thudded against the floor as measured steps took him inside. The doors closed behind him, removing the shadows. A few more wrinkles crisscrossed his weathered face than I remembered. His broad shoulders slouched to the left towards his cane. He’d been in his 50s when he’d encountered my mother. He somehow looked even older than his years two decades on. He’d lived them hard but they hadn’t dulled his mind.
Bright blue eyes found twins in my own. His grin tugged at the old scars across his cheeks. A Glasgow smile, he’d called it when I’d asked about it the first time we’d met. He’d never shared how it had happened. I’d been six at the time. Thanks to Google, I’d learned all about the fight with a rival gangster that had earned him the scars, and how that man had ended up dead a month later – I knew enough not to ask him the next time we met.
“Emma.” His deep voice boomed but fell to a rasp. He almost coughed as he approached. “I’m so glad you could make it.”
More than likely, he was the only person who could have as much, at least truthfully. He wrapped his free hand around me, tugging me close. His chest vibrated as he chuckled before pulling back. He shook his head.
“Time just keeps going faster and faster.” He sighed and squeezed my shoulder. “When I think of you, I see that giggly six-year-old girl. So shy, you hid behind your mother’s leg when we met but you’re all grown now. The world’s already making you weary.” His smile faded and he fell silent for a moment. Then his eyes brightened. “Did your mother come?”
“Uh, she went to the little girl’s room, Mr. Turner,” said Sal, his voice meek and eyes nowhere near my father’s.
He stepped forward and held his hand out. His shoulder bumped against my arm to nudge me to the side, but I stayed in place. My father stared at the offered hand but didn’t move to accept it.
“I was hoping to get a moment of your time, Mr. Turner,” Sal continued. “I wanted to talk to you about a business proposition.”
My father frowned at that. So did I. Sal had just slapped down the final piece of a puzzle I’d been trying to solve since he’d announced the trip. Usually, any reminder of my father’s far-flung family sent my diminutive stepfather into a spiral. When he’d insisted we come, I should have realized he had ulterior motives, selfish ones at that.
“Salvatore? From the De Rossi family?” My father’s head tilted as he studied Sal. “We are a long way from Seattle. I’m not sure we have much to talk about and my son is about to get married. Maybe we can schedule a talk for later.”
“Of course, sir. Thank you,” Sal replied with two nodding bows. “Congratulations again, sir.”
Sal retreated just as my mother approached. An altogether different smile appeared on my father’s face when he noticed her. She slinked closer with a half-cocked smirk. Her arms went wide. They hugged.
Sal frowned. He stewed in it and not alone. The same eyes around the hall that had been darting at me ever since we’d arrived lost their subtlety. For a bunch of criminals and thugs, they were a superstitious and preachy bunch. A white trash Seattle stripper wasn’t wife material for a man like Dominic Turner, even being a widower and having knocked my mother up by them. Bad luck, enough to sow dissension in ranks. He did what he had to do. Both my parents were realists.
The biggest frown, save for Sal’s came from the groom, Ewan Turner, my other half-brother. His steps thudded across the hall, followed by the cousins my mother had pointed out earlier. I didn’t actually know their names, or care for that matter.
Ewan stood as tall as our father had before age had hobbled him. Even in my heels, he had me by several inches, not that he acknowledged me at all. His narrowed eyes remained fixed on my mother’s embrace with our father.
“Dad, we shouldn’t keep my bride waiting,” Ewan said, too loud.
Our father sighed and pulled back to arm’s length. My mother made a show of it like always. Eyelashes batted. Her red lips twisted into a stunning smirk. Beside me, Sal schooled his expression. Took him long enough to realize the scowl wouldn’t help whatever business plan he wanted to spring on my father.
“I was already 20 years older than you when we first met,” my father whispered to my mother. “It feels like I’ve aged 50 in the couple of decades since, but you look exactly the same.”
“Not without effort,” replied my mother. She nodded toward Ewan, cockeyed.
“Yes, we shouldn’t keep the bride waiting.” My father’s voice boomed through the hall, earning a few claps. “But before we bring her in and walk to the church, I have a few things I want to say.”
After nodding to my mother, offering a flash of the smile that had Sal and so many others so sour, he stepped away. His cane tapped against the floor, emphasizing his amble to the bar. A nod to the man behind it had a glass of whisky slid to him. I wouldn’t have said no to one myself.
“When you get to be my age, you start to realize what’s important in life,” he began, glass in hand. He stared into the liquor like it held all the secrets of creation. “You look back at what you’ve lost and a man like me has lost so much. I don’t miss the things, not even the money. Some of you are old enough to remember what happened to Three Toe Roddy.”
A few of the older men laughed. One winced and held his hands in front of his crotch. My father barked a chuckle and paused for too long. As the silence extended, it demonstrated the man’s position, his power with these people that nobody spoke up in the growingly uncomfortable pause.
“And all because he defaulted on a loan,” my father muttered, head shaking. “No, it is the people I miss the most. My late wife gave birth to three sons but only the youngest’s heart still beats.”
Unshed tears glistened in his eyes and in others in the audience. My mother dabbed her eyes and she wasn’t performing. Ewan’s lips whitened with how hard they pressed together.
“We were once five families,” he continued, glass of scotch held at eye level. “Separate clans until the Hunters gave us a united purpose. We thrived in that alliance. It made us strong, at least for the families that survived.”
A cheer took the hall. Stomping feet echoed. Glasses rose. My father raised his.
