“He sure does,” Finch D’Amato agrees, looking Teddy head to toe.
I see Jack talking to some of the Morelli bodyguards nearby, and beckon him over. “This is my right-hand man, Johnny Jacopo. Most people call him Jack.”
D’Amato looks between the two of us, noting our matching bruises and scrapes. “A disagreement?”
Jack gives a pained smile. “With an SUV.”
“He’s too modest,” I say. “He saved my life the other night. You know how those assassination attempts can bang you around.”
D’Amato is no stranger to these things, apparently. He just nods, holding out his hand to shake Jack’s. “Angelo Messina speaks very highly of you,” he says. “I’ve never known his judgment to be flawed.”
“Except that one time he ran off with a federal agent,” Finch says, taking a canapé from the platter offered by a server. “What?” he says, as his husband shoots him a look. His eyes sparkle as he nods around our little circle. “Everyone here knows the story. And everyone here is very fucking aware of Bax, Luca. He’s been here himself—and he’s real damn hard to miss.”
Even I have to smile at that. Baxter Flynn, Messina’s husband, is indeed hard to miss, with shoulders almost as wide as he is tall. It’s a shame that he and Messina could not be here tonight, but apparently they are hot on the trail of some bail-jumper. A strange life those two lead, but they seem to enjoy it.
“Well, I’m a big fan of Mr. Messina’s,” Jack says, playing it off, but I can tell he’s flattered.
“Big enough that he almost jumped ship toyourFamily,” I add. Jack looks startled. He didn’t know I knew about that. “I’m lucky to still have him,” I tell Don Morelli, and then I raise my glass to Jack. “He’s not afraid to tell me when I’m wrong, and I know he always has my back.”
“That’s what Family is for,” the Morelli Don agrees, and raises his own glass. “ToFamiglia.”
It’s echoed by all of us, and then a moment later by a smoky, feminine contralto behind me. I take a step to the side and invite my mother into the social circle. “May I introduce my mother—” I begin, but she has a strange smile on her face as she holds out a hand to Don Morelli.
“I believe we’ve already met,” he says slowly, taking her hand.
“I believe we have,” she agrees. “In Venice, was it not? It’s a pleasure to see you again, Don Morelli.”
“Contessa,” he says. “Yes. A pleasure.”
His pink-haired husband seems decidedly less pleasured. “Hello,” Finch D’Amato says coldly, but my mother ignores the ice.
“As delightful as I remember,” she says, leaning in to kiss him on each cheek. “And still so vibrant.”
“How’s your boyfriend?” he asks, eyes still narrowed.
I don’t miss the way Luca D’Amato’s arm goes around his husband, a subtle touch in the small of his back. A warning? Or a proprietary gesture?
But my mother laughs. “He’s very well. He’s back in Italy; I didn’t think it would be appropriate to bring him here, given the business with Sandro’s father.” The small talk goes on, until she says, “Excuse me, won’t you. I know my son would like to speak with you, Don Morelli.”
“Mamma,” I say softly, catching her arm as she turns to leave, “you never told me you’d met D’Amato.”
She raises her eyebrows. “Didn’t I? Well, perhaps it slipped my mind. But you don’t needmyhelp, Sandro. Do you?” She smiles as she walks off.
It’s practically a dare. And the circle has melted away, even Teddy, so that now only Luca D’Amato and I are left there, sizing each other up. “So Jacopo is your brother in arms,” he says, “but you also have a brother by blood, I’m told. Where is he tonight?”
“Julian had a prior engagement.”
I did not want Julian and my mother in the same house together, so I’ve sent him tonight to one of those mixed Mob-Hollywood parties he loves so much, to gather information. He seemed delighted to go. “My first real mission from the new Don!” he said. “Give my love to everyone I shall miss tonight, of course.”
“I’ve heard some disturbing talk about your brother,” D’Amato continues.
Of course he has. Messina would not hold back. “Julian has his demons. But he is my brother, after all.”
“Yes,” D’Amato says, but he still sounds dubious.
“He’s kept in hand. We are…finding ways to work together effectively.”
There’s a long moment where I fear D’Amato will decide it’s a lost cause. At last he says, “I suppose every Family has its wayward son. We should talk privately. After dinner.”
