They both stopped when they saw me.
“Shit,” Antonia said, then quickly recovered. “What?” She was immediately defiant, unapologetic, and tried to pretend not to be bothered by the look I gave her. But Antonia never really had been able to shake the need to make her family happy. She wanted everyone to be proud of her. It was a remnant of the troublemaker she was as a teenager. The little shit had caused our parents more tears than the three of us boys combined, and as she got older, Antonia felt guilty about it. But my sister was stubborn. Prideful.
I didn’t answer her. Instead, I took in a breath, hoping it would calm me, hoping there was enough Christmas spirit to keep me from knocking the shit out of Luca DeRosa.
One slip of my gaze to his collar, to the smudge the exact color of my little sister’s lipstick, and I realized the Grinch had taken me over. “Antonia,” I said, looking directly at Luca, “excuse us for a second.”
“No,” she tried, her voice whiny, high. She looked between us like she expected the frown on her face to keep the glares from passing between me and the man she can’t seem to keep out of her system. “Brother, I’m thirty years old, you have no right to…”
One jerk of my eyes to her, leveling the same threatening stare I reserved for anyone who got between me and my business, and my sister went quiet.
“It’s okay, Toni,” Luca said. “It’s just business.”
She touched his hand, squeezing his fingers. She turned to me, her features tight as she muttered, “Don’t you dare ruin this for me,” and left the stairs.
I watched her, making sure she was gone before I opened my mouth. “You got that wrong,” I said, nodding to Uncle Vinnie as he moved past the stairwell and onto the patio. “You and me, DeRosa, we got no business to discuss.”
“Smoke…”
“Merry fucking Christmas,” I said and walked away from the staircase, heading back into the dining area, ignoring my sister as she brushed past me.
Like I said, I don’t like liars.
* * *
Ihadn’t had a cigarette in ten years.
Not once.
But tonight, I thought I might need one.
Antonia wasn’t speaking to me. Dario was sober now and pissed at me about that shit too. Maggie was stuck between my mama and Maria telling her the best way to wean a baby without having her tits sag—a conversation I didn’t want to hear. By the look on her face, she was clearly mortified they were having the talk in the middle of the fourth course of Christmas Eve dinner.
I moved outside onto the patio, finding Dino near the parking lot, debating whether or not to bum a smoke from him. It was stupid to even consider it.
Ten years was a long time, and even being around the smell of smoke irritated me most days. But my nerves were bad and getting worse the longer the night wore on.
“Everything okay, boss?” my man asked, waving his hand to keep the smoke away from me as he made for the ashtray.
“Finish your smoke, man. I just needed a break from that shit.”
Dino looked at me, his head tilting to the side, his eyes narrowed. “You want one?”
I waved a hand, but he still pulled out a pack of Marlboro Reds.
“You smoke that shit and your mama will have your balls,” I heard, turning toward the sound of my father’s voice.
“Pop,” I greeted.
The smile on my face shook when I spotted my youngest brother Dante at our father’s side. He’d been spending time with our cousins in White Plains since returning from Italy and even though I’d seen him a lot since he’d been back, I still wasn’t used to how different he was.
Dante looked nothing like that scrawny shit my folks sent packing to Pistoia five years ago when Dario agreed to take the bid for the stupid shit Dante had done. Drug running, in Dario’s bar. Pops had figured if Dario insisted on doing Dante’s bid for him—pretty little thing he was would have never survived Riker’s—then the kid would have to learn his lesson.
Seems he had.
“We’re all finally here. Our first Christmas together in years,” Pop said, seeming to sense the tension.
“Yeah,” I said, shaking off the small irritation I still felt at my kid brother. “Ma’s happy everyone is home,” I agreed with him, turning to nod inside the restaurant to where Dario leaned against the wall, his fingers wrapped around a mug of coffee.
