I’m clenching my jaw so tight my teeth hurt, but I don’t want to interrupt. What the Clemenza said in the car was true: I’ve anchored my life to my father’s death, and I never thought all that much aboutwhyit happened. Never thought much about my father beyond those few moments.
I squashed down all my memories of the times before then. It was dangerous to think about. Like any happy memories might make me soft.
I don’t think about the moments after his death, either.
But I’ve never, not in all my memories, thought about my father’s laugh. He was a serious man, the weight of the world on his shoulders. So when he did laugh, you knew it was real. But it was rare.
I can’t remember that laugh now. I wish I could.
“So theywerefriends,” Caligula goes on.
“Sure. Yeah, they were friends. They worked together a lot. In those days, your grandpa and Jimmy Gee saw the benefit of working together. Not like these days, with that meathead in charge of the Gees,” he adds, glancing at me. “Your new guy’s useless. But I guess you know that.”
“Hey,” I say. “You watch what you say.”
“Why?” he laughs. “You gonna beat up an old man?”
“Let’s take it down a notch,” Caligula says, with enough ice in his tone to cool my head. “I appreciate your candor, Strike, but if you could keep the editorializing to a minimum, I’d appreciate it even more.”
Ferraro cackles. “You really remind me of your dad, you know that? He was a real good guy. Wanted to run things clean, you know? Make sure everyone knew where they stood. Your grandfather, God rest his soul, was more…well, you know.”
“Oh, I know.”
Ferraro is still smiling at the Clemenza. “You remember that time, huh?”
Caligula blinks. “I’m sorry—which time do you mean?”
“Well, that time you saved my skin, of course.” Ferraro’s grin goes soft, almost tender. “Your grandpa was all set to shoot me himself. Not even your dad could talk him out of it. And there you were, barely a teenager, and you talked him down.”
“I…” The Clemenza trails off, and the composed mask flickers. “Oh,” he says. “Yes. I think I do remember.” He squeezes the arm of the couch, a crease between his brows.
“I owe you my life,” Ferraro says seriously. “I was a dead man walking into that room. When I came out alive, it was a fucking miracle. I told your dad that day I’d always be grateful to you.”
Caligula has pinked up. “I barely did anything,” he murmurs.
“You were the only one who stood up for me besides Cesar. Your grandpa was sure I was the rat. And it was only down to that logic you laid out—how I could never have known what he was accusing me of spilling—that convinced him otherwise. It was Nardelli who was feeding the Feds, that piece of shit.” He grins again. “Well, he got what was coming. Your dad and I saw to that, the very same day.”
“I’m…glad I could help,” the Clemenza says. But there’s something hazy in his eyes, some memory he’s reliving that he doesn’t like.
I don’t want to picture it. But I can’t help it. A thirteen-year-old boy standing between an angry Don and a condemned man, armed with nothing but that golden tongue.
Caligula goes on, “But none of that means you’re beholden to me now, Strike.”
Ferraro gets up from his seat, goes over to Caligula, and kneels down on the floor stiffly, painfully. “Of course it does. And even if you hadn’t done that for me, you’re the heir. You’re Don Clemenza now. I shoulda shown proper respect the moment you came to my door.” He takes the Clemenza’s hand from the armrest and presses his lips to it.
The Clemenza just sits there and lets it happen.
And then I see him smile.
“He can’t be the Don,” I growl. “He never even made his bones.”
Ferraro sends me an irritated look. “Well, he can make ’em right now and putyoudown, Orsini. It’d be a fucking honor to watch him do it right here in my living room. All we’d need after that is the Don’s ring.”
“I’m not going to kill Dami,” the Clemenza says, exasperated. “And as for the, uh, traditions, they’re not something we need to think about now. I just want to find out who else will be loyal to me.”
“There’s a whole lot of us,” Ferraro says eagerly. “I’ll call them over right now, you can meet them?—”
“Not here,” I say at once. “Jesus, think about security for two seconds, maybe?”
