Don Pelino only had one daughter. My memory served her up as being younger and quiet with a long face. The broad was supposed to be my bride and I couldn’t even remember her name. I looked to Abriana for help.
“Valentina,” she provided.
Michael nodded. “Don Pelino and Father have already started negotiating.”
My world tilted on its axis. Throughout my entire life, Father had pointed out my shortcomings and uselessness. As the heir apparent, Michael was the one destined for a political marriage. Abriana would have probably gotten off the hook if she hadn’t caught the eye of the son of Father’s biggest California ally. As for me... I didn’t need to produce an heir, so I’d been planning to stay single like Uncle Carlo. And if I couldn’t stay single, I at least wanted to pick out the goddamn woman I had to marry.
“I hate this family,” Abriana said. She pushed off the counter and headed outside.
“But weloveyou,” Michael said mockingly.
“Don’t be such a dick,” I said to him before following my sister out to the back patio. She slunk down on a wicker sofa overlooking the pool, and I sat beside her. The orange glow of the rising sun reflected off the water as the air chilled my skin. I draped an arm over my sister and hugged her to my side.
She sighed. “What if he’s a complete asshole?”
I rubbed her shoulder. “Mike? He’s an asshole all right.”
She elbowed me in the ribs. “You know who I’m talking about, Dom.”
“I know.” Although I felt bad for my sister, focusing on her problem while running on fumes and still trying to get over the shock of Michael’s revelation about my own fate, proved difficult. “Sorry, sis, I’m still trying to digest this whole Valentina Pelino thing. Is she even an adult yet?”
Abriana shook her head. “No. She’s a few years younger than me.”
Disturbing. But at least that meant I had time.
“They’ll probably let you two wait until she’s eighteen,” Abriana added, her mind obviously coming to the same conclusion. “Lucky.”
“Lucky?” I asked. “Bri, that girl is boring. Have you ever tried to talk to her? She just giggles. And her face…”
Abriana sat up. “What’s wrong with her face?”
“It’s like a horse.”
A bubble of laughter escaped from my sister’s mouth before she suppressed it and shook her head at me. “You’re awful, Dom.”
I wasn’t trying to be awful, I was being honest. “I’m not even kidding. Have you seen the size of that overbite? It’d be like going to bed with Mr. Ed.”
She fought off another giggle. “Dom!”
“I know. That poor girrrrl,” I whinnied.
This time, Abriana did allow herself to laugh. When her laughter died down, silence fell between us. She propped her head on my shoulder and we watched the sunrise together as my eyelids grew heavy.
After a while she said, “I know you and Mike will have to marry whoever Father selects too, but it’s different for you.”
I yawned. “Different how?”
She leaned away and pulled her feet up to the seat cushion. “Because you’re men. If you don’t like your wife, you can ignore her and take a mistress or two. Like Father.”
Mobsters weren’t exactly known for their monogamous relationships. I couldn’t have been more than ten when Uncle Carlo and I were making a delivery and I saw Father’sconsigliere—his counselor—Giuliano Biondo, out to dinner with a woman on his lap. Assuming the woman was Giuliano’s wife Celia—a kind woman who always gave me cookies when we stopped by her bakery—I rushed to their table to say hello. Carlo intercepted me, but not before I saw the woman’s face… it wasn’t Celia.
“Why would he cheat on Celia?” I asked Carlo as we left the restaurant.
“Mobsters take mistresses,” he replied, brushing off the question.
“Why?”
“Lots of reasons. It’s not like we live forever, kid. Those who don’t get popped get pinched and end up doing hard time up the river. It’s a rough life we lead, and we take pleasure wherever we can get it.”
