“Next up is Chicago,” the announcer says into the microphone as the head of the football league walks out onto the stage.
“With the tenth pick in the first round, Chicago selects…”
Although some people in the room are on their feet chanting Chicago, you could hear a pin drop at our table. It’s the only time I can remember the Gallos ever being completely silent.
“Vinnie Gallo, Quarterback from…”
It’s impossible to hear the rest of his statement because the Chicago fans, along with my family, are on their feet, screaming at the top of their lungs.
As Vinnie stands, Ma grabs his face and plants a giant kiss on his cheek for the entire world to see. He doesn’t fight her on it, rolling with it because he loves his mother and he doesn’t want to look like a complete asshole to the millions of people who are watching.
When she finally releases him, he jogs up to the stage to meet the team’s general manager and don the team hat for photos.
“Unbelievable,” I mutter.
The kid did it.
Not only is he going to play ball for the home team, but he was picked in the first round, which means he’s the best of the best. I’m almost teary-eyed watching my kid brother on the stage.
Tilly tucks herself into my side, screaming louder than I’ve ever heard her scream before. “Go Vinnie!”
I peer down at my girl.
“Fuck yeah!” Daphne screams, but it’s barely audible beyond our table. We get a few looks, but whatever. They can go fuck themselves.
The moment is monumental but short-lived as the clock starts ticking down for the next draft pick.
“He did it.” Ma claps. “My baby’s coming home.”
My father wraps his arm around her back. “He is, sweetheart. Big things are coming for him.”
If by big things, he means tons of money, fame, a crazy-as-fuck chick, and probably a head ten times bigger than he already has…then, yeah.
“We have to celebrate,” I say, knowing this is Vegas, and the city never sleeps.
I’m taking full advantage of a child-free weekend, and so is everybody else around the table. It’s rare that we all have this kind of freedom, but Aunt Fran insisted she and Bear could handle watching the kids for a few days.
“Oh shit,” Daphne says, pointing toward the stage and the team owner’s daughter, who’s waiting for Vinnie near the stairs.
“Fuck,” I groan, knowing she’s all kinds of trouble. The last thing Vinnie needs is a girl who’s nuttier than a PayDay candy bar chasing after his ass off the field and distracting him when he’s just starting his career.
Tilly tightens her hold on my arm, following my eyes. “She doesn’t look so bad.”
“She’s the worst kind of trouble.”
“I’m starving.” Pop rubs his stomach and looks at my mother, who’s not even paying attention to him. “Let’s start with dinner, and we’ll see what kind of trouble we can get into. I have a friend…”
“Oh, no.” Lucio shakes his head and holds up his hands. “We’re not going to some mafia joint. We’re steering clear of your old buddies.”
Vegas, which was started by mobsters, is no cleaner than it was fifty years ago. They’ve just learned how to hide in plain sight better, flying under the radar of the public and the authorities. My father seems to know people everywhere we go in this city, and it’s not because of his charm or good looks.
“You pick the place, then,” Pop tells Lucio.
“Angelo and I already made dinner reservations for the family, and we’ll figure out the rest as we go. This is Vegas, and I’m not planning a night of drunken decadence.” Lucio glances at Delilah. “I want to enjoy my woman a little bit.”
Delilah flings her arms around Lucio and whispers something in his ear. By the look on his face, I’d say it was scandalous and exactly how I plan to finish off my night too. Minus Delilah and Lucio, of course.
“Vinnie said he’ll meet us at the restaurant,” Ma says as she glances at her cell phone. “Let’s go. Nothing else can outdo that moment.”
