I stood up, careening on my too-high heels toward the atrium before he delivered his lethal comeback. I zipped past stained-glass windows and marble columns through the double doors, pouring into the sunshine.
Outside, the stairway teemed with guests. I searched for Mount Vesuvius beyond yellow and golden buildings surrounding the church but couldn’t find it.
I slouched against the wall, lighting up the cigarette and scanning the crowd. My heart was in my throat.
I was tired of the stupid organ never staying where it was supposed to whenever Achilles Ferrante was around.
He wasn’t wrong. My outfit for my nephew Gennaro’s baptism was inappropriate.
It was a red minidress, far too short for anything that wasn’t a nightclub. But you know what else wasn’t appropriate? Baptizing a not-quite six-month-old baby in some dead criminal’s blood. Yet that was exactly what the Ferrantes were about to do.
They were ruthlessly sadistic. Unfortunately, so was my idiot brother whose baby was being christened.
Tiernan said he didn’t mind Gennaro continuing his wife’s family’s tradition as long as the blood he was dipped in was of someone who deserved to die. Apparently, that someone was a rival clan’s underboss and a child molester.
Tiernan was an atheist. Where we came from, we knew there was no God. We’d prayed to Him every night when we were kids, and He never answered.
This would be the first time Tiernan set foot in a church. But I knew better than to argue logic with my brother when it came to his wife. What Lila wanted, he delivered. No questions asked.
I felt no resentment or anger at the special treatment he gave my sister-in-law. I’d do anything for Lila, too. She was just that kind of person.
Kind. Wholesome. Perfect.
Speak of the devil, my brother was heading right in my direction.
“What the fuck do you think you’re wearing?” He greeted me in his usual sociopathic fashion, barging into my line of vision and casting a large shadow over my frame.
Tiernan looked flawless in his Savile Row suit and slicked-back hair. He wore an eye patch after Achilles had scooped out his eye. But that was before he had married Lila. These days, they’d take a bullet for one another.
I shrugged, taking a drag of my cigarette. “A dress.”
“Bullshit. People are staring.”
“People always stare. The least I can do is give them a good reason to.”
“Today’s not about you, Tier.”
I said nothing because he was right. But if I told him the real reason I dressed this way, we’d get into a fight, and I didn’t want to ruin today for him.
“Isn’t it time you act your age?”
“That’s a rather philosophical question.” I took a deep drag of my cigarette, letting the smoke hit the bottom of my lungs before fanning it sideways. “I find that you’re only as mature as your responsibilities. I happen to have none. No family. No kids. No job.”
No future, either, but I never let myself think about it too much.
“You can have a husband and a job in no time. Just say the word and I’ll get it done.”
I snorted at the offer. “I’m good, thanks.”
“You need to cover yourself up.”
“You wound me, brother.” I pouted. “These legs are meant for flaunting.”
“You know, there’s more to life than pissing people off.”
“I didn’t wear this to piss people off.”
I wore it towarnpeople off.
