"It's not a bomb. It's a wedding invitation."
"Right. Sorry. I'm just—" She stopped. I heard something in the background. A voice? "I'm just surprised, that's all."
"Who's there with you?"
"What? No one. Just the TV." Too quick. "Look, Quin, about the wedding. You said New York. The St. Regis. That's—that'sa big venue. Fancy. I'm assuming this isn't just a small family thing?"
"Her family's pretty involved. Traditional Italian family, if you know what I mean. We're doing it right. Big ceremony, reception, the whole thing."
"Her family." Another pause. "Are they—I mean, what kind of family are we talking about here?"
My protective instincts kicked in. "Bia, what's going on? Why are you asking all these questions?"
"I'm not—I'm just trying to understand what I'd be walking into. You know I left that world behind, Quin. I don't want to be part of—" She huffed out a breath. "If you're still a criminal, I’m not sure I want to be part of that." The words came out cold. Rehearsed.
Her words hurt. "Can you simply treat me as an older brother for a minute? I've found someone I love. We're getting married. I'd like my sister to be there." I waited, then added quietly, "I've missed you, Bia."
I heard her breath catch. "I've missed you too."
"Then come. Please. I know New York has bad memories. But this would be a good memory. A new start. You could meet Julia. See that I'm happy. That I'm trying to build something legitimate."
"Legitimate?" She said it like a question. "Is she part of that? The legitimate part?"
"Julia's the best thing that's ever happened to me. She makes me want to be better."
Another long pause. "Will there be—I mean, at the wedding. Will there be security?"
The hair on the back of my neck stood up. "Security?"
"I just mean—you said it's a big wedding. Traditional Italian families. I assume there's going to be, you know, protection. People watching. Making sure everything goes smoothly."
"I’ll have the best security money can provide. My man’s thorough. Why?"
"No reason. Just—you know how I am. Anxious about New York crowds." She laughed, but it sounded hollow. "I'm just being paranoid. LA does that to you. Everyone's always looking over their shoulder. And New York—you know what happened there."
"Yes. But this is different." But was it? Was I putting her in danger? "I promise you’ll be safe."
"I know." Her voice softened. "I'm just surprised, that's all. My big brother getting married. It's a lot to process."
"So you'll come?"
Silence. I could practically hear her thinking. Weighing. Calculating something I couldn't see.
"What's her name again?" she asked.
"Julia. Julia Russo."
"And her family—they're okay with you? With your background?"
"They know who I am. What I've been. They're willing to give me a chance."
"That's—" She stopped. Started again. "That's really good, Quin. I'm happy for you. Really."
"But you're not coming."
"I didn't say that." She took a shaky breath. "Send me the details. The invitation. I'll—I'll think about it. Seriously think about it."
"That's all I'm asking."
