“You’re kidding, right?” To Anya, he says, “He’s kidding.”
“He’s not,” she says with a heavy sigh. “Come on. I’ll get you a couple of beers while you catch him up, Alexei.”
We go to the bar and Anya gets behind it. The current bartender glances over as if he’s about to say something about her starting her shift, but the moment he sees me, he thinks better of it and goes back to serving the customers.
“So,” Dmitri says as she serves us our beers. “Who’s the lucky girl? I want to hear everything. Where did you meet her? Is she beautiful?”
“It’s not what you think,” I tell him. “It’s just a business arrangement. Our families are allying with the Pecoras.”
Dmitri’s mouth dropped. “What?”
“Believe it.” I tell him all about how Damon Pecora got into dealing for my father and ended up owing so much debt that it was threatening to bankrupt his entire family. He listened while sipping his beer.
“So, now you gotta marry one of his daughters,” he says. “Which one?”
“Does that matter?” Anya says. “He doesn’t know either of them, and now he’s gotta marry one so that our families will play nice. It’s stupid Bratva bullshit.”
“Hey,” they both say at once, and Anya puts up her hands in defense.
“I’m just saying. All this macho crap is eventually going to be the downfall of the whole Samorodokaya Empire.”
“This macho shit is the reason you’ve got a job,” Dmitri says. “So, kill the disrespect, huh?” She just rolls her eyes. Dmitri turns back to me. “So, which one do you have to marry?”
I sigh. “Well, it was going to be the older one, but she skipped town. Now I’m marrying the younger one.”
Dmitri took a long sip from his bottle, then, “I don’t remember. Which one’s the hot one?”
“Ugh.” Anya grabbed her apron from under the counter. “I’m going to get to work. You two enjoy your little circle jerk.”
She walks away and Dmitri waves her off. “She’s just mad because nobody’s trying to marry her.”
“No, she’s right,” I say. “It doesn’t actually matter who the hot one is. I never wanted to marry either of them. I’m doing this for the brotherhood. Nothing more.”
He nods and says, “That’s noble, but you have to admit. Pecora’s daughters have always been easy to look at. Especially the redhead.”
That weirdly stings. “You don’t think the brunette is hot?” I instantly hate myself for asking. I feel like a thirsty teenager.
“She’s okay,” he says with a shrug. “A little wild, though, last I heard. I assume she’s settled down now.”
I think about all the rumors I’ve heard about Isabella Pecora over the years and I decide not to respond to that. It’s not like this whole thing is my choice, anyway.
“Well, if she’s not,” he says, “you’ll find out. Then again, marrying you will probably force her to keep her legs shut. Who would even think to hit onyourwife?”
That’s a valid point. “I suppose if there’s any altruistic angle to this marriage, it’s that.”
“The best way to turn a whore into a housewife is to marry her to the second scariest bastard in Fortune city.”
I chuckle. “Fair enough. I just hope she doesn’t give me too much of a hard time. I’ve got enough problems without a wayward wife to worry about.”
“It’ll work out,” he says, patting me on the shoulder. “Hey, maybe you two will become friends because of this… or more? If anybody deserves a happy ending, my friend, it’s you.”
I smile weakly. Part of the reason he left was because of how everything went down with Kira’s death. I hope he doesn’t still blame himself.
I lift my beer bottle and say, “To happy endings.”
He nods and clinks the neck of his bottle to me. “To happy endings.”
“Holy fuck! Is that Dimmy-dim?”
