“I don't like you being too mixed up in the business, not because I don't think you're capable, but because it's dangerous for you, and the less you know, the less—”
“The less I can spill?”
“I don't mean it that way. Hell, you ever get pulled in by the Feds, I want you to fucking sing like a canary, don't worry about me. I don't want you locked up for things you haven't done.”
“Is that partly what's behind all this movement into more legit businesses? Kismet Nightclub? There have been a few others, too. That new idea you were talking about, importing olive oil. Yeah, don’t think I haven’t noticed.”
Luca looks almost impressed with me. “I just don't see the point in taking risks when I have something more important to me. That’s you, by the way.”
I have to blink rapidly and look away. I don’t know why I’m so fucking emo these days. “I told you when we got married, I'm ride or die for you. So quit trying to protect me, and let me use the skills I have to protect us both.” Luca looks torn, so I add, “We’re both dead men walking as far as the Commission are concerned. We have no powerful allies to speak of, and we don't know if we can trust the ones we’re trying to butter up. But I'm nothing if not an expert at buttering up.”
“Speaking of allies, have you heard anything from Tara?”
Our drinks arrive, and I sip my mocktail while I watch Luca tentatively sip his Guinness. He makes a face. “Must be an acquired taste.”
“Good for what ails you, Uncle Gus always said,” I tell him with a grin. “No, I haven't heard anything much from Tara, nothing to do with business. All I know is, Maggie’s looking to consolidate the Irish in Boston. I suppose then she'll make a play for power in New York.”
Luca takes another sip and looks less disgusted this time. He looks at the ceiling, thinking, and I wonder exactly what's going on in that brain of his. It makes me love him more to see how he’s stretching himself as a leader, as a man. The first night we met I knew he had this in him, he just needed the chance to grow. Like that fish in the kid’s book that gets too big for the bowl first, then the bathtub, and ends up in a pool, I can see my husband is starting to outgrow the confines of the space he's in.
It won't be long before he really is king of New York City.
“Tell me about your sister,” he asks, looking back at me. “Not Tara. Maggie. Is she clever? Motivated by power, greed, love? Or was it simply revenge and jealousy that made her move against you and your mother?”
How can I explain a sister I've never really known, especially one who was only pretending to love me for most of my life? “To explain Maggie, I have to explain Tara as well. And maybe Róisín for that matter. Maggie is most like Pops, Tara reminds me of Mom, and Róisín…I think she ended up with the mosthumanparts of both sides. Don’t know how well that’s served her, though.”
“What about you? Who are you most like?”
I have to think about the question for a while, because it's not an easy question to answer. “I inherited my mother's charm, and her practicality. Now that I know the truth about Tino, I can see a physical resemblance there—”
“Yeah, you're kind of small.”
I flip him the bird. “I have more than enough personality to make up for it. But resemblance isn't just about nature; there’s nurture involved, too. And if there's one thing my Pops taught me, it's the ability to cut out the rot when necessary. That's the way Maggie is, too. But she's not as smart as Mom. She likes to think she is, but she really doesn't understand people the way my mother did.”
“The way you do, too,” Luca says.
“And that’s one thing Tara has in her favor. She's more likely to draw a natural loyalty to her than Maggie. And Tara also got Pops’ ability to cut people out of her life when necessary,” I add, thinking of the casual way in which Tara suggested we murder Maggie.
“But?” Luca asks.
“But Maggie is the oldest, and she's also worked in the family business longer than any of us. The board doesn’t know Tara the way they know Maggie, and there's no reason to think they'll be any happier aligning with the Morellis than they were with the Clemenzas and Fuscones. I don't know who Tara has on her side, and I don't know the generalfeelof the family at the moment. My Pops really did move away into more legitimate businesses, but now Maggie’s dragging them back the other way. Maybe that's what they want…maybe it isn't. I don't know. Haven't been privy to any Donovan news for years and years, even before we met that first time.”
Luca nods thoughtfully. “But Tara has more insight into the Donovans. We could bankroll her if nothing else. Do you think she’d fly out to Vegas?”
“I thought we were here on the downlow?”
“If I’m making this deal with your sister, I want to look her in the face when I do it.”
“Ialsothought this was supposed to be a second honeymoon,” I say with a pout, but then I grin. “Hell, why not? Reach out to Tara and see if she can pay us a visit while we're here. As long as she's careful about letting anyone else know where we are. And I guess if someone tries to take us out, we’ll know we can’t trust her after all.”
He puts his hand on mine, and wriggles his finger into mine, opening out my hand so we’re palm to palm. I run a thumb over his wedding ring. “Where’s the Morelli ring?” I ask suddenly. “You were wearing it when we met with Sonny.”
“In my pocket,” he says with a shrug. He gives a nod to the waitress, who immediately goes to refill our orders.
“Better hope you don’t have a hole.”
“That thing’s just a prop. It’s a nice ring, but it’sonlya ring. It’s more important tobewhat it represents than to wear a symbol of it.” He flexes his fingers and curls his knuckles to admire the wedding ring. “This ring, though? It means more to me than that fat black bauble ever will.”
“Sometimes I think you have the soul of a poet, Luca D’Amato.” But the truth is, hehasimpressed me. “So. You’ll give Tara a call?”
