“You should know by now that,one, Maggie Beautiful is a legend in here, andtwo, alcohol preserves some people, Brando Fausti.” Violet touched him on the shoulder and then went for the bar. She ordered a round from the old bartender, a man who had always worked there, and then passed them out.
Stella sniffed her beer, then sipped it. She made a face at first but kept sipping. Not long after, papà had mamma on the dance floor, twirling her out and bringing her back in. She was laughing, and he was grinning at the look on her face. He fucking loved to make her happy. That laugh line thing again. Saverio led my sister next to my parents, and they started dancing.
Before I could grab Stella’s hand and lead her to the dance floor, Mitch Lewis ambled in. He’d lost his leg in a car accident before I was born. He stood next to me and nodded. I nodded back.
“Your wife?” he asked, looking at Stella.
“Stella, this is one of my old man’s acquaintances from this town. Mitch Lewis.”
Mitch’s face was buried by a full beard, and it was full of salt and pepper hair. He smiled at her, his teeth bright white against a tanned face. He was a biker who still loved to ride. “Pleasure to meet you, kid,” he said. “I have a long history with your in-laws.”
“Oh!” Stella took a drink of her beer. “You’re Violet’s husband.”
“The one,” he said.
“It’s really nice to meet you, Mitch.”
“You too.” He patted me on the shoulder but removed his hand quickly. “You did good, man. Happy for you.”
After he spoke to me, he turned toward the old bartender, bitching and complaining about the vibe of the new place—who did he have to speak with to get the saw dust and old jukebox back?—and then he left us. He was about to start his set with Poisonous Dawn.
Stella stared at me for a second before she took another drink. “You were rude.”
“Yeah,” I said. “I was.”
“Something I should know about?”
“He’s right. He goes back a long time with my parents. When mamma almost died, he told my old man they should just separate. Too much trouble follows them around.”
“Oh.”
“Matteo,” Mariano said, coming up to the bar for another beer. “That was just how he felt about it. Mitch is an all-right dude. He’s just opinionated.” With that, Mariano took his beer and went back to the crowd. Out of all of us, he enjoyed this scene the most. He was into the music, and he liked to just people-watch, unless he found a woman he found fascinating.
“How do your parents feel about it?” Stella asked. She was watching them dance.
I shrugged. “Can’t say my old man appreciated it. But mamma is good friends with Violet. He tolerates Mitch’s company for her sake.”
“That’s really sad, though,” Stella said, her voice lowering. “I mean, they were friends for so long. Mitch shouldn’t have said something like that. That was mean and unsupportive.”
Yeah, especially after his history with Violet. She had been married to his brother, but one night and a gun changed all of that. Their kids were all right, though.
I downed the rest of my beer, not caring enough to talk about Mitch Lewis, and then took my wife by the hand and navigated the crowd until we had our own spot. The song was fast and country, and she moved her body next to mine. She wasn’t herself, though. When a slower song played, it seemed like she was more comfortable with it.
She gazed up at me. “I’m sorry.” She shook her head. “I thought…I thought I could do this. But it feels like I’m celebrating. I can’t. Not right now.”
I kept her hand against my heart and leaned down. “Let’s go then. Go home. I’ll hold you all night long.”
“Yeah,” she whispered. “That’s where I need to be. Home, in your arms, the same thing.”
“Matteo!”
Stella turned at the female voice before I did.
Fuck me.
“Matteo!” The owner of the female voice tapped me on my shoulder.
“Yeah.” Stella nodded toward her. “Matteo.” I could see she was on edge, but not fully convinced this woman was trouble. She was much older than me.
