“Cazzo…I mean congratulazioni. Who is the…you know… Which one of them did it?”
“It’s Tirone’s.”
More silence. “Does that cazzone not want the baby?”
“To the contrary. He’s so excited. It’s Furore that…” I swore under my breath. “I just wanted to tell you the news.”
“Ascolta, figlia mia. Fuck those Lazzarinis. If you want this baby, no one, and I mean no one, could stop you from having it. I’ll make goddamn sure of it. He or she will be safe, and I’ll make sure they have the best of what life can give.”
Weeping, I listened to him with joy and sadness breaking me in half. “I love you, Papà. Thank you.”
“I love you, little girl. Where are you? At home? I’ll come get you.”
“You’re in Chicago, Michele.”
“I have a plane at my disposal. I’ll be there in two hours.”
I sniffled a chuckle. “Actually, I’d love that.” Spending some time with Michele away from all this would give me some time to think clearly. “But no, I’m not at home. I’m…” I checked the signs and the GPS. “I’m close to Austin.”
“Send me a location, and I’ll tell you where I can pick you up.”
I stared at the road. “Yeah. Let me just make a quick stop first.”
CHAPTER 20
Jo
I’d never been to a tattoo parlor before. The only tattoos I’d gotten were done in-house. The place was cozy and smelled like a hospital. It was well lit and wasn’t blaring with hard metal music or anything like I’d thought. It was rather quiet apart from the familiar buzzing.
A young woman with blue hair, covered in tattoos, greeted me at the front desk and asked if I had an appointment.
“Um, actually, I’m looking for Alice. Is she in?”
“Yeah. But she only takes clients with appointments. I’m happy to check who’s free right now—”
“Can you please tell her Jo Meneceo is here to see her?”
“Okay. Sure.”
“Thank you.”
She went somewhere at the back and disappeared. A few moments later she came back and told me to follow her. She led me to a dark hall and then knocked on a thick door. When it opened, it was Cameron Delaney—now Alice Moore—standing behind it in a black tank top that showed a lot of ink on the visible parts of her skin, her hair red and cropped short to barely cover the back of her neck. She looked nothing like that girl I helped in San Francisco.
A small smile manifested on her dark painted lips. “I was expecting you. Come in.”
I stepped into what seemed to be another studio, big and open. The walls covered with hand drawn art on scraps of paper, and cartoons streamed on a flat screen. I looked around to find two baby chairs in front of the TV, and two adorable baby girls sitting in them.
“Jo Meneceo. Small world,” Cameron said.
My lashes fluttered. “Yes. It’s…Lazzarini now.”
She gestured at a stool for me to sit. “Congratulations. That explains a lot.”
“You said you were expecting me.”
“I figured you must have questions.”
“I didn’t even know if you recognized me.”
