Or that he’d be a liability—untrained, untested, unable to control his emotions?
I heard all about Hudson’s request, and Brother Frank’sfaux pas. At night in bed together, I try to make Luca tell me everything on his mind, since neither of us are sleeping well these days. Sharing problems still doesn’t halve that burden, and I have to accept vague details and pseudonyms from him sometimes, but at least it keeps my mind off the existential sadness that seems to be lurking for me these days. So Luca recounted the entire Monday night meeting, and although I know he’s the Boss, it did take me aback to hear what he’d said to Frank.
“That’s pretty harsh, babe,” I’d said.
“Less harsh than a bullet between the eyes,” he’d grunted. “You think Frank’d ever talk to Tino like he talks to me? He needs to learn. Theyalldo.”
There, we are in absolute agreement.
* * *
I have to be honest:the last thing I feel like doing two weeks later is entertaining. And evenlesslike entertaining a Donovan sister from Boston. But Luca insists we can’t put it off, and I see his point. Our allies are thin on the ground, mostly small-time associates and gangs dotted throughout the city who have little interest in Italian problems. Besides, if there’s any chance Tara has intel on what Maggie’s planning…
I get it, I do.
I just don’t feel quite myself these days. Things are moving too fast. Changing too fast. Even my goddamn roots aregrowingtoo fast. So in the spirit of self-care, I take myself off Thursday morning to my stylist and submit myself to his talents.
“Blond again?” he asks.
For a moment I think about that flamingo-haired kid who, tripping balls, danced with a devil and then stayed beside him to fight in an alleyway.
Fight poorly, maybe.
But I still fought.
So maybe hand-to-hand combat ain’t my forte, but that’s not the only way to fight.
“A little twist,” I tell my stylist. “I want a halo. No, I want a goddamncrown. Make it gold.”
I might be down, but I’m not out. Luca and I will rule this city if it’s the last thing I do.
* * *
“It’s…different,”Luca says when he comes home that night, waving his hand at his own hair. “How come it’s different?”
“You don’t like it? Frederick outdid himself in my view.” My stylist has worked his magic and given me metallic bronze-gold curls.
“It’s…shiny,” Luca says. Sometimes he has a gift for stating the obvious.
“Do youlikeit?”
He crosses to me and takes me in his arms. “I likeyou. Your hair is always amazing, but I have to admit it’s not myfavoritepart of you.” His hand slides from my waist to my ass and he gives a little sigh. I press into him, making an offer with my body. “We don’t have time, baby bird,” he says, nuzzling my neck. “Besides, you wore me out last night. And then again this morning.”
I’ve been a touch insatiable lately. When I’m caught up in Luca, I don’t have to think so much. “Later,” I say. “Promise? I’m gonna need it after tonight.”
I extract myself and admire my reflection again while Luca undresses for his shower. He got home looking even more exhausted than usual, if that’s possible, and I hope a shower will wash away the worries of the day—at least for tonight.
He pauses in pulling off his shirt to say, “I thought you’d be happy to see Tara. She seems to be one of the nicer ones among your sisters.”
I shrug, and go into our adjacent dressing room to rethink my cufflinks. I want golden sparkles tonight, to match my hair. “I’d just like to be done with Boston for once and for all,” I say over my shoulder.
“With Boston?” Luca follows me, and looks approvingly at the shirt and suit I’ve picked out for him tonight. “Or with your family?”
“You’remy family,” I snap. Then: “Sorry. I’m having a shitty week. Month. Decade?”
He hugs me again from behind. “I know the feeling. Life sucks sometimes.”
“Excuseyou. Our lives are certified platinum as long as we’re together.”
