“It’s a fucking mess in here,” I said, my upper lip curled. I wasn’t just taking out my frustrations on them, they’d brought this on themselves. “So, what the fuck is going on?” I snapped my fingers at them both. Tomaso seemed to be sleepy now—which was awfully convenient of him. “Get him some water,” I said.
“You can’t just order us around,” Rocco grumbled.
Tomaso slurred in agreement.
“I’m not ordering you, I’m telling you something you should already be doing for our brother,” I said. “He’s fucked up, you should’ve gotten him water.”
Rocco nodded. “I tried, actually. He’s wasted.” He got up from his chair, shuffling by a cabinet and the rest of the mess in the room.
I got into a squat to be at Tomaso’s eye level. As Rocco went to get water, I gave my brother’s arm a punch. “If you carry on this like this, you’re gonna end up dead,” I told him. “Or worse, someone’s pet. And I bet you’d fucking hate that.” I laughed in his face. “This is why Rocco isn’t letting you into those games.”
Ever since he stopped coming to Mom’s dinners and all his calls were drunken rambles, we’d had some of the guys he was supposed to be watching over now looking out for him—but when you worked for someone as powerful as our family name carried, it was probably hard to pry a glass of scotch or vodka from his hands.
“You don’t get it.” His words were mumbled in his drunken state. “Everyone loves you. Everyone likes you.”
“What the fuck happened to you?” I asked, grabbing his face. “Nonna was pissed you screened her call. Mom’s practically tearing that room upstairs apart. She told me if you don’t go back, seek some help, she’s going to turn it into a home gym.”
He laughed, it was a joke. Mom always said when we moved out she’d turn our rooms into a home gym. “She shouldn’t see me like this,” he said.
“Then tell me what’s wrong.”
“I’m empty,” he said, the smell of vodka on his breath.
“Where have you been going?”
He smirked. “My apartment, mostly. New York for a weekend, took two guys with me, they were eager to please me. Both of ’em. Have you ever felt two guys wrap their tongues around your dick at the same time?” He laughed. “No, because your lame ass is trying to get married.”
I grabbed him by the chin, tensing my grip and hoping it ached. “Don’t come for what I’m doing,” I said through clenched teeth. “Brother. You’ve got to sort your fucking shit out. Just because I’ve found someone, just because I’m no longer rubbing salt in those fucking wounds Dad gave us for being... different, it doesn’t mean I don’t still have the same pain.”
Rocco arrived with the pint glass of water. “You want me to throw it over him?” he asked.
“I’ll take your fucking hand off,” Tomaso slurred out, unable to jolt forward or threaten. My grip on his face finally causing him to look at me. “Let me work through my shit at my own pace. Just because you’re both happy, doesn’t mean you can force it on me.”
“Whatever,” I said, letting go of his face, and he almost dropped into a slump at his own feet. “Maybe I’ll get cousin Jack to have you put in a cell for the day, let that alcohol wear off.”
“No, no, no.” He reached for the water. “I’ll sober up. I’ll be fine once I’ve been to sleep.”
“You’re not doing that here,” Rocco said. “I’m running three businesses here. Restaurant, bar, and our friends.” It was always safe to use other language in case of bugs, but we swept regularly, and even if he didn’t use coded language, I’d definitely mentioned the gambling.
“Tomorrow, you should go see Mom,” I told him. “Whatever it is you’re going through, you should see her. Closing her off is only going to make whatever you’re going through worse.”
He smiled then sighed. “It’s the freedom,” he let out before gulping down the entire pint of water. Like a fish, he consumed it all, then burped—it was vile. I stood and stepped away from him, almost into the mess of files on Rocco’s wall.
“Don’t start,” he grumbled.
“Then tell me what all this shit is,” I whispered. “It’s got to be for something.”
“It is,” he whispered back with a smile. “But you don’t need to worry about it. You’re in a happy place right now, and we’re not going to ruin it. Right?” He patted Tomaso’s back and he burped—this time, with the threat of vomit.
“Don’t hold back,” I said. “I’m still the head of the family. I’m still in charge. If there’s something I need to know, tell me.”
Tomaso groaned in complaint before Rocco chimed in. “Remember when we all came out? Tomaso first, right. Youngest, tenacious, thought he was going to change Dad.”
I nodded. “Yeah, and?”
“Well, we all kinda came out to each other after that. Thought Dad would kill us all. Then we bonded as brothers a lot better. And from what I can tell, none of us have ever crossed streams, or whatever.”
“Never shared the same guy,” Tomaso said, another burp coming out.
