I turned the key over in the ignition. “Fine.”
“Mhm,” she hummed pointedly, eyes narrowed.
Reading people was one of her special talents, which was the reason I mastered my poker face from an early age whenever I got in trouble.
I rested my hand on the back of her seat as I reversed out of the parking space, aware she was still trying to gauge something from me until, finally, she gave in with a shake of the head, turning her attention to the street when we peeled out of the parking lot. As we left the Bay Ridge area, it didn’t take long for her to continue talking about what went down at bingo; rumors of someone being cheated on, rumors of someone cheating the game, arguing between rounds, someone sabotaging someone else’s baked goods. It was no better than the seedy stuff Antonio was involved with. There was just more cattiness, cardigans, and white three-quarter pants involved.
“I wonder what they say about me,” she said with a smile as she watched the houses of Bensonhurst pass by her window.
“Good things, I hope. Otherwise, I will give ‘em somethin’ to talk about.” I was half joking.
“No you will not,” she warned again, though the smile in the corner of her mouth wasn’t helping with her attempt at seriousness.
“I could remove their tires.”
“Dean.”
“If you do ever hear them talkin’ about you—”
“I won’t be telling you,” she chuckled.
We were as bad as each other when it came to our stubbornness. If she knew about the talking that seemed to already be happening, she didn’t let it show. Or maybe she didn’t let it bother her as much as it bothered me.
I looked ahead, resting one hand on the bottom of the steering wheel. We slipped into a brief bout of silence as we neared home. From the corner of my eye, I could see her lightly drumming her fingers on her knees.
“What?” I drawled.
“I didn’t say anything.” There was a little smirk on her face. The same smirk she had on her face for the past three days, paired with knowing glances and not very subtle questions about a certain blue-eyed girl I brought home once.
“You didn’t have to say anything. It’s all over your face.” I cut her a look and quirked a brow.
She rolled her eyes. “I want to know how she’s doing. Is it a crime?”
“I wouldn’t know,” I shrugged.
Her eyes narrowed.
“She’s...fine. As far as I can tell.”
“Poor girl. She’s a nice young lady in a terrible place... You’re making sure she’s safe, yes?”
“I’m not her chaperone.” I didn’t know why I said it, all things considered. I didn’t trust myself not to dislocate another jaw if her drink was spiked again.
Mom lightly backhanded my bicep. More like a feather-light tap as she gaped. “You brought her into this mess.”
“I’m aware.”
She settled in her seat, pursing her lips as she looked towards the windshield again. “Girls like that don’t come by often.”
I huffed a flustered laugh, rolling my tongue along my top teeth.
This was why I didn’t bring girls home. My mother wasn’t a traditional Italian mother. They were often suspicious of anyone their sons dated, especially if the girl wasn’t Italian, and grew jealous and protective easily. Mine, however, was willing to pair me off with any girl I happened to accidentally look at while in her presence. Her reason? It was only the two of us and she missed having a big family, so it fell on me to find someone, settle down fast, and convince whoever I married to start popping out kids.
I dragged a hand through my hair as we arrived at our street, driving on in near silence again. Almost near silence as my mother brooded in the front seat, her silent treatment interrupted by her subtle irritated huffs and sighs.
Chapter 17
Lily
