“It was quiet,” I respond. “Then my father died.”
It should make me more emotional to acknowledge that, but to this day, acknowledging my father’s death only provokes a total-body numbness. I sought no further information than what my brother told me, and I ignored any rumors to keep my knowledge minimal.
What I know is this – My brother Michael had a hand in our father’s death. I don’t know how much he did, but I understand why he did it. Gianna Rae is a delightful little girl. I love my niece. I would have never gone as far as Michael did, but considering Cosima drugged him… I don’t think he had much of a choice. Dad expected to be killed at some point in his life. He would have appreciated his son being his executioner. If the rumors are true.
Our father lived with such a violent edge that he couldn’t have expected to live into old age. It’s better to have your son put you down than a stranger. I see mercy in Michael’s choice.
“What does your father have to do with Pittsburgh?” Gino asks. “Yes, he’s dead. But… the families are completely separate and they wouldn’t try anything over here.”
He doesn’t know that for a fact now, does he? It might be a fair assumption if human beings were purely logical. They aren’t. While it might seem logical to us for a broken family with divisions and a missing patriarch to focus on healing their wounds, they might still seek war.
“People don’t always operate logically.”
Gino nods, considering my words quietly. I can’t tell what he thinks of my words, and in that sense, he’s eerily similar to Renzo. And so different from Luigi in a way that scares me. Gino is not to be underestimated, but not constantly in command the way his older brother is so naturally. He’ll grow up to be a lot wiser than his twin brother over time, perhaps.
But he’s still young and doesn’t see how all of the politics now will affect our lives and our old age. You choose the wrong allegiances or the wrong spouse and life will really fuck you.
I press forward, “The Pittsburgh Corsinis are family too, Gino. They trace their lineage back to the same violent enforcement of Italian ghetto rule that we did.”
Luckily, we don’t live in the ghettos anymore.
Gino shakes his head like I’ve misunderstood him, “What I mean is… peace wasn’t contingent on your father’s life. As far as I know. There’s more keeping the balance of power in check.”
Our eyes flicker to meet each other and for a split second, I wonder if we all underestimate Gino more than I even realized. But there’s nothing behind his cool eyes. He’s like if Renzo smoked weed instead of popped Zyns. Utterly unreadable without the anxious energy that accompanies men more prone to angry violence.
“You’re right. Peace wasn’t contingent on my father’s life,” I say to my cousin, desperate for a damn beer instead of a shot. “But Pittsburgh is an unstable place. Mallory Corsini returned after her father died, Dario left to work for Uncle Pino for a while, and that left a gap.”
“Someone made a bid for power?” Gino asks, taking a casual tequila shot without wincing. Italy made him much better at handling his liquor.
It’s a good guess.
“Exactly.”
“Whose side of the family?” he asks, taking another tequila shot before I answer.
“Marco Corsini, eldest son from Carmine’s first marriage. An informer for our family gave us solid information that he flew into Pittsburgh from Italy two weeks ago and he’s been raising hell in Pennsylvania ever since.”
“I don’t know Marco,” Gino says. “I might have met him at the big Doukas wedding.”
“Which one?”
“The old one.”
I nod, although I don’t remember which wedding that might have been. I didn’t bother flying over to Italy for all those weddings of distant cousins. I prefer working while the family plays so I can keep building my personal wealth portfolio. Unlike Mikey, I don’t want to be in the mob forever.
I continue explaining the situation to Gino, hoping that he doesn’t need much motivation to get off his ass. The situation has the possibility of becoming urgent the way family business almost always does. “He wants to take over the entire mob over there and here too. Mikey thinks they sent out scouts and I need to track them.”
“Are we getting paid for this?” Gino asks. It’s not a “no”. If Gino wanted to back out, now would be the perfect time.
“$400,000 tax free. The job might take a week or two.”
“I’ve got time. My brother has been stuck up at the house while Nicki plays God with his life.”
“What does that mean?”
“My sister’s a psycho bitch.”
“Join the club,” I mutter. Flora has been getting on my nerves lately. In his new role as underboss, Michael has forgotten what it feels like to have every detail of your life dictated by the needs of our mafia family. Flora moved in with me one week ago and she’s beginning to act like I captured her when I’m really doing her a favor.
