I’m certainly not some helpless princess in a tower.
I drugged the whole goddamn lot of them, and I sauntered the few blocks into Central Park and went down to look at the Alice in Wonderland statue, wondering whether it was time to jump down a rabbit hole of my own.
Icoulddisappear. I love this City and I know it in my bones, just like I know my man.
I’m not a man who loves, he’d said.
I’ll admit it stung to hear. But I also knew it was a lie, and I knew then why he told it to his Don, and it just made me so fucking exasperated, I figured I should remind him who he’s dealing with.
So, like I said, I drugged everyone and I bailed.
I knew better than to wander Central Park all night or try to sleep there, so I had to find somewhere else to spend the night. The obvious thing to do was go clubbing, because they’re open all night. I was greeted like a friend by all my old dealers, who quickly lost interest when I told them I wasn’t buying tonight. I spent most of the night holed up in a dark corner, biding my time.
Now the clubs are closed and I’ve made my way via public transportation and my own two feet to the only friend I have left in the world right now. I watch Frank leave—driving like a bat out of hell, so I guess he’s gotten the call about me—give it another fifteen, and then I knock on the door bold as brass.
Celia, still in her dressing gown, only looks a little puzzled to see me. “Finch? Is everything okay?” Her phone pings, and she automatically checks it, frowning. “Oh, Frank’s asking about you—”
“Do me a favor, Cee, and don’t tell him I’m here just yet? Luca and I need some time apart to cool down a little. You know how it is, right?”
“Oh, no, did you guys have a fight? What did that idiot do now?” she asks sympathetically. “Come on in, honey, let me fix you some coffee.”
I follow Celia into the kitchen, which is about a quarter of the size of our master bathroom. Celia is a good little housewife for Frank, but it doesn’t seem fair to me that one brother should be in this tiny apartment while the other is living it up. Especially not considering how much Celia actually deserves; she’s a peach. I wonder if money is the reason they haven’t had kids yet. Although, the big crucifix in the hallway that we just walked past suggests contraception might not be something they’re into.
“Sit down, sit down,” she urges me, and I sit at the tiny kitchen table. Celia’s face is only half-made up for the day, her cheeks overly-rouged and her eyebrows too dark and blocky, as usual. Right now she’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. “Do you need, um, something to take the edge off?” she asks. “Frank’s being weird about my medication lately, and I know I’m not supposed to give you—I mean...” She trails off, the pink of her blush overtaken by the flush spreading across the cheeks.
“Forget it,” I tell her easily. “Luca doesn’t want me taking anything anymore, so I’m trying to be a good boy for him.”
She turns on the coffee machine and it gives a loud, complaining rumble before it begins to force water through the filter. “You don’t strike me as the kind to behave.”
“I’m turning over a new leaf.”
“Oh, really?” I think it’s the first time I’ve ever heard Celia being sarcastic, and I have to grin.
“Well, maybe tomorrow I’ll turn that leaf. We had Tino and Connie for dinner last night.” Celia just raises an eyebrow and waits for me to continue as she brings down two old mugs from the overhead cupboard. “It went pretty well, but afterwards I overheard Luca talking to Tino, and he said some shit that I didn’t like. And so, to teach him a lesson, I’m...” I spread my hands,
Celia giggles. “I get it. You’re showing him he needs to mind his manners. Those D’Amato brothers can be a handful. Nothing wrong with teaching them a lesson or two, just like Frank had to learn when I first got my hands on him. It takes a while to train a man, but it’s worth it in the end.”
Oh, Celia. I wish I had her simple view of things.
Her phone begins to buzz, and she looks down at it. It’s Frank again. Celia raises an eyebrow at me. “Should I?”
“I don’t want you get you in trouble, Cee. Well. Not anymoretrouble.”
She shrugs, lets it go to voicemail, and then we listen to the message on speaker together.
“Celia, this is Luca,” it begins.
“Oh,shit,” Celia breathes. I don’t think I’ve ever heard her swear before.
“I know he’s there with you,” Luca’s voice continues. “So I want you to give him a message from me. Tell him it’s not the time to make a grand gesture of independence. I need both of you safe. Stay there anddon’tleave the apartment. Frank and I are on the way. And—and tell Finch I…”
Here, Luca trails off, and I know exactly what he wants to say, but won’t.
“Tell Finch that he knows me.”
The message ends, and Celia looks up at me.
“Well, it wasalmostan apology,” she says.
