“I’m here,” I assure him. “I’m always with you, even when I’m not.”
“What are you going to do about Hudson?”
Yet another problem. “I don’t know. Our associates are supposed to prove themselves after long service. Years. This kid, he might be pissed about his sister, but that doesn’t mean he’s useful to the business.”
“But you could make him, made-man him, whatever, right?”
“No, angel. Only those with the blood can be trueFamiglia.”
“So, like,Icould get made.”
“You’re not getting made.” I don’t know where the hell he’s going with this, but I want to nip it in the bud early. “Where’s all this coming from? I don’t want you in any more danger than you’re in right now. You’re the only thing that keeps me going most days.”
It’s a simple truth, but it also seems to have been the perfect thing to say, because Finch gives a happy grunt, kisses me, and settles to sleep minutes later.
As for me, I keep running things around in my mind. There’s a part of me that actually understands Maggie Donovan—the pragmatic, family-first side of her, at least, not the side that hates Finch. But I have a grudging respect for her, a woman, heading up the Donovan clan in the face of all that opposition. Moving them back into the business that pays best, overruling her father’s wishes for their family to clean up, get out of the dirty side of life.
She and I have responsibilities that few others can understand, and she must know as well as I do that hard decisions must be made. Sacrifices.
The best thing for Frank and Celia and the baby is not the best thing for me or Finch or the Family. I know if I ask Frank to do something, anything, he will.
But how much will he hate me for it afterwards?
And, for that matter, how much will Finch hate me if I cancel Date Night?
* * *
Finch poutslike a champion in the morning when I bring it up, but agrees in the end as long as Imake it upto him. I know what that means, and it’s not like I’m opposed, so we make a deal. Then, after the end-of-week meeting on Friday night, I ask Frank to go for a drink. He takes a minute to agree, and I find myself snarking, “You got something better to do?” just like back when we were kids and I wanted to do something he didn’t.
“You ain’t come out with the boys for a long time,” he says. “That’s all.”
“Not with the boys. Just you and me. I had an idea I wanted to talk through.”
“Don’t you have Date Night or some shit?”
“I ran it by Finch,” I hear myself saying, and what do you know, Frank was right all those months ago when he said I had no idea what marriage would be like; that I’d find myself whipped just like he was. Here I am, the fucking Boss, telling my Enforcer I asked my spouse’s permission to skip Date Night.
I can’t help smiling, and it seems to help, because after a pause Frank begrudgingly agrees.
“It’ll be fun,” I wheedle, wanting him to not only agree, but be happy about it. I find myself wanting the old, easier relationship we had, without this power differential between us that makes everything so tricky. “We can go to the old bar and throw peanut shells on the ground.”
“They shut that place down two years back, Georgie,” he says, rolling his eyes, but the nickname tells me he’s softening.
“Fine. Where doyouwant to go?”
“O’Malley’s, maybe.”
“That Irish pub?”
He shrugs, sheepish. “Got a taste for that black beer after the wake.”
An Irish pub is hardly the place to talk Italian business, but I go along with the suggestion. I figure I can always mellow Frank up and then tell him what I want him to do once we’re headed back home. “Angelo can drive us,” I say, but Frank scowls.
“You always got a shadow these days, Georgie. Don’t you trust your big bro to look out for you?”
Angelo, who is indeed waiting in his shadow-like manner across the room for me, frowns. He must have overheard that. I turn my back and lower my voice. “I need special protection, Frank. You never saw Tino without his shadow either, did you?”
There’s an uncomfortable moment where I think Franks about to tell me I’m no Tino Morelli, but then he shrugs. “Three’s a crowd, Georgie. I thought you wanted it to be just us.” He sticks his jaw out, stubborn.
