“Not pleased about it, but at least he went to class,” Gio replies, rolling his shoulders from side to side.
“He and the dog walker think there’s a demon on Carver Street.” Uri laughs, but Gio doesn’t. In fact, all the uncles get quiet—eerily quiet—as they exchange glances.
Oh, fuck.
Uncle Andrey scrubs his palms together and then jams his hands in his pockets. “The big brownstone at 632 Carver? The families have a long history with that place. Your great grandpa survived a shooting on the second floor. A bloodbath back in the forties. Some hippies OD’d in the basement. Bodies show up there all the time,” he says.
“Avoid that place at all costs.” Uncle Gio crosses his arms. “Look, Nonno wasn’t a great man.”
Obviously. We’re in the mob.
Uncle Gio continues. “He used to cheat on Nonna a lot when I was younger. Shit, Rita isn’t even our full sister. Nonno got a girl pregnant, and Nonna decided to raise the baby. A whole long complicated family history there.
“Anyway, when I was about eight, my father went out to do a job at 632 Carver. Something went wrong. Bullets went flying. Our guys were fine, but the other side… Well, they took some tough losses.
“My father came home… different,” Gio says, looking at the ceiling. “It was like he was wrapped in a shadow. He stalked around the apartment, threatening us, yelling. He smacked your father across his jaw. That was the first and only time he had ever hit any of us in the face. Nonna had been out with the other grandmas, and when she came home, she took one look at him and knew something was very wrong.
“She started yelling in Latin and dragged his ass out of the house. Nonna was not a big woman, and he could’ve killed her right there. But she didn’t give a shit. Dragged him out, I think by the ear. They came back in the morning, and Nonno locked himself in their bedroom. My father cried for a whole day. Then he slept for another three days.
“When he came out of the bedroom, he showered, shaved, and kissed Nonna. Told her, ‘You saved my life and my soul.’ I thought he was being melodramatic, but he never cheated on her again. Never even looked at another woman. And from that moment on, he called her his Angelo Femmia.”
The rest of us look at him as the room gets colder. “We’ve been working in the shadows for a long time. And sometimes we aren’t the only ones working in the darkness.” Gio rubs the back of his neck. “Stay away from that building and go to church on Sunday.”
“And leaving cupcakes on the steps as a tribute to the demon?” I ask.
“Probably the smartest idea other than avoiding the place all together,” Uncle Gio says. His eyes get dark. “Stay the fuck away.”
Thiago’s father claps his hands. “We should all go to mass on Sunday. We need all the help we can get. Six of my guys got roughed up at the dock last night, and our merch was stolen. Some of our allies already found the merch on the streets and are trying to gather it up. But the more we look at it, there’s only one conclusion—the Four Families are under attack.
“Right now, your moms are on the case, trying to figure out who’s leading the attack. Don’t ever underestimate women who spend all their free time listening to murder podcasts. They’re in a better situation than the FBI.”
“What do we do?” Uri asks.
“Business as usual until we get some firm answers.”
Donny rolls his eyes. “This could’ve been an email.”
I agree.
One by one, we leave the shithole we gathered in for absolutely no reason. We return to our lives. I spend a few minutes on the train catching up on work messages. This whole day is annoying. Hell, this whole week has been one hassle after another. Why do I even bother with anything?
Blinded again by the transition from the subway to the real world, I blink a few times until everything clears. My skin feels like thousands of ants are crawling on it. Between the guy selling hot dogs on the corner and the bodega cat in the window, I see threats everywhere. Over the years, I’ve gotten used to the constant looking over my shoulder, but I’ve never been overly cautious about it. I only have me I need to take care of. But now it’s different, and I can’t place why.
Rounding the corner, I see Jenny and Kingston, but red flags send alarm bells. He’s cowering behind her; his ears are back and his tail… no, it’s not curled. It’s flat and hanging low.
I pick up my pace and am next to them in an instant. When I bend down to pet him, he doesn’t leave Jenny’s side. I wish I had treats or something to bribe him. “What’s wrong?”
“He hates the vet and doesn’t want to go in.” She bends down and meets my gaze. Her concern is marked all over her face. Is she worried about the dog? “Do you like going to the doctor?”
“No.”
She scoops him and holds him near her chest. “Neither does he.” She motions with her chin. “Can you get the door?”
I do, and I feel like I’m betraying my dog. His head is on her shoulder as he watches me, looking up, and I can see the whites of his eyes. It’s awful. His ears are soft as I pet him, but Jenny stops short, and her back presses against my chest. Kingston quivers in her arms, but the heat from her body pressed against mine warms my soul. Weird.
She puts him down as she talks to the receptionist, and Kingston scrambles to his feet, slipping and sliding as he tries to hide under the chair while still searching for an escape route.
“Does he need to do this?” I feel like this has to be animal abuse. He’s normally a smiling, happy dog but seeing him like this breaks my heart.
