I bent to Tino’s proffered hand and kiss it with reverence. “You honor me, Don Morelli.”
But what I was really thinking was: this old man is a coward. He does not want to push Fuscone; he does not want to take risks. He thinks making a gay man one of his Capos is an extraordinary thing, a forward-thinking thing, a step that will raise his profile, piss off some people.
But if Tino Morelli had a younger man’s vision, he might see what is possible beyond his immediate need.
* * *
“You think Morelli is underestimating you?”Finch asks thoughtfully.
“Of course he is,” I scoff. “I would represent him far better than Fuscone ever could.”
Finch casts a critical eye over me, and I begin to wish I hadn’t started talking about this at all. “Well,” he begins. “We’ve already talked about the suits, D’Amato. They’re atrocious.”
“I canlearn,” I snap. “I can dress up in a suit as well as the next man, I just need to have the money first to—”
But Finch is shaking his head. “Style is not about throwing on a suit, baby. Besides, why waste your time learning about men’s fashion? Do you have an interest?”
“Of course not. But if it means—”
“Thenoutsource, baby. That’s what smart people do. They find the cleverest or best people in their fields, and rely on their judgements.”
I glare at him. “And whose expertise are you suggesting in this instance?”
“Mine, of course,” he says with a cheeky grin.
It’s infuriating, but at the same time, I am relieved to see his smile return. His color is returning to normal, as well. He was so pale when I first saw him. When I firstrushedto him.
God, Mikey is lucky Finch pleaded for him. Not to mention Celia. Even Frank should be thanking this silly kid for speaking up.
Finch reaches over to lay cold fingers on my wrist, and I automatically take his hand between mine and rub it to warm it up. “When we were in that warehouse just a few months back,” Finch says, “do you remember what you said to me?”
I shrug. “I remember Sam Fuscone’s nephew looking for a beatdown from me.”
Finch ignores that. “You wondered if we might have compatible goals. You thought we might be useful to each other. Well, Icanbe useful to you. You even said it yourself on the yacht: you wanted me to pick out some clothes for you.”
What he says is not untrue, but that just makes it more annoying. Ididask him to lend me his sartorial expertise. And truth be told, I used my husband’s advice only today, when I tried to make small talk with those guards at Tino’s house. And it worked, kind of. On my way out, they gave me a respectful nod and said, “Mr. D’Amato,” as a goodbye.
“It’s not just the clothes,” I admit now. If Finch ever uses this information against me, I can always say he was addled from the drugs he accidentally overdosed on. I’m still not fully convinced it was anaccident, but I’ll let it go for now. “Tino pointed out that my people skills could do with some…refining.”
Finch starts laughing at that, his uncontrollable laugh that forces tears to his eyes. This time it just starts him coughing, and the nurse eventually comes in to glare at me.
“I’m okay,” Finch wheezes, as she tries to check his vitals. “I’m laughing, that’s all.”
“Mr. D’Amato,” she says, turning to me with the kind of glare my Nonna used to give me. “Someone much higher up the chain than meallowedyou to be here with your husband, even though it isnotprotocol in the unit to—”
“Oh,pleasedon’t send him away,” Finch pleads, and I don’t know how he does it, but within sixty seconds he has Nurse Ratched twisted all the way round his little finger.
Speaking of fingers, I grab his hand and glare at him, and then the nurse. “Whereis his wedding ring?” I demand. I’m appalled at myself that I’ve only now noticed its absence.
Immediately, the nurse is bristling again at my tone.
“I’m sorry,” I say, the words coming out stilted. “Only my husband is very precious to me, and that ring is a symbol of my…regard.”
At that, she actuallysmiles. Perhaps I’m benefiting from Finch’s training without even realizing. “Of course, Mr. D’Amato,” she says. “We had to remove it when he came in for safety reasons. But it’s right there in the drawer next to his bed.”
I pull open the nightstand drawer and see Finch’s ring sitting in there, as she says. “Thank you,” I tell her, dismissal in my voice, and at that, the smile wavers, but she finally leaves us alone. Once the door is closed again, I grab up the ring and ram it back on his finger. “This stays on.Always,” I tell him in a low, insistent voice. “Understand?”
He makes a face. “Why’re you so worried? Think someone’s gonna snap me up if you don’t keep a ring on it?”
