“I don’t have a chain.”
“Okay.” I look around. We’re driving through a dinky nothing town, but I can see an ancient pawn shop next to a box store. I pull over in a screech of tires. “Lemme have the medallion, I’ll get you a chain.”
She shakes her head. “Can I please… it needs to be me. Or at least I want it to be.”
I remember the tattoo gun in Naples. How Adriano was the only person I could stand drilling ink into me. After someone you love dies, you’re entitled to be weird about shit. I flip open the car locks. “Fine, but hurry. And don’t talk to anyone you don’t have to.”
January nods, taking a few hundred dollar bills out of her pink handbag. I smile to myself. That’s the cash I gave her, so it’ll still be me who buys her the chain.
A few minutes later, she slides back into the car.
“How’d it go?”
She shows me the medallion, now hanging from a thin gold chain. “It’s lovely.”
It’s not but looking at it makes my insides hurt all over again. I start the car. “Put it on and hide it under your clothes, Tits.”
She obeys, tucking the chain under her dress with a sigh, like some big burden has been lifted. “Thank you.”
“No problem.” I gesture to my lap. “I’ll take my payment now.”
She stares at me in horror, and I laugh. “What? You don’t wanna give me road head? My suit isn’t nice enough or something?”
She shoves my side. “You’re so gross!”
I laugh even harder. “It’s okay, Tits. You blow me later. I heard you’re pretty good at it.”
She flushes, no doubt thinking about her roll in the grass with Bobby. “I still can’t believe you guys talk about that stuff.”
“Believe it. How are you feeling about the funeral anyway? We’re not far.”
“I’m nervous, I guess.” January gives me a sidelong look. “I can tell you had a sister.”
The statement sucks the air right out of my lungs. I see Alessia, opening the oven, getting out tots. “Oh yeah?”
“Yeah, you’re all… cheeky, the way guys who have big sisters are.”
I snort. “Cheeky.”
“What was she like? Alessia?”
The bottom falls out of my brain. It’s so wrong to hear her say the name… yet part of me likes it. Part of me wants to talk about how funny and annoying and weird my big sister was, but my jaw feels wired shut.
“It’s okay,” January says quietly. “Maybe you can tell me some other time?”
“Maybe.”
To my relief she stops pressing and stares out of the window as Bowie sings around us. Anger prickles through me. She wants to get close but she’s yet to apologize to me for running away and I’m yet to forgive her. But at the same time, I want to talk to her.
Soon, I tell her in my brain.Let me kill Parker and tie you up and torture you for a while and then I’ll talk to you about Alessia.
Chapter Twelve
Domenico Valente
“Don’t speak,” Iremind her, as we power walk to St. Peter’s. “Under no circumstances are you to say a word.”
January nods, her thick veil shifting. “I’m just glad to be saying g-goodbye.”
