Page 52

“Angelina, no ransom. None of that stuff. This is Poppy. She’s a chef.”

Her hands fly up in the air as three small white dogs nip at her silver spiked heels. She’s a cliche but not. Her hot pink mouth tightens into a straight line as she cocks a hip and plants her back foot.

“Hell to the no. You do not come in here Salvatore Pietro dripping blood on my clean floor after some years have come and gone. You think you can parade around your tiny piece of trash. Get out. And hold the fuck up. Aren’t you dead? Marco and your old goon, Polo---”

“Paolo and you know it.” She smirks, and I realize they have inside jokes. They speak as if they’re from the East Coast and not Los Angeles.

She floats her hands around. “That’s right. They told me down at Nonna’s eightieth. They showed up, ate a heaping load of torte alla panna and dropped your death bomb then got the fuck out. But you ain’t dead, as much as I wished for it. But I never get shit I want. I never get my wishes. Jesus, Joseph, and Mary you can’t believe nothing and no one these days.” He approaches her and kisses her cheek, and she flicks her well-manicured wrist at him.

“Kitchen.” She crushes out a cigarette that’s been burning down in an ashtray on a hall table. Sal puts his hand on her arm and my body flares. Do not touch her. Why are you touching her? Who the hell is this? No touching. I chuff. They ignore me and he gestures to the smoldering cigarette.

“I told you to knock that shit off.”

“And I thought you were dead. Again, we don’t always get what we want.”

They disappear down a long hallway adorned with lots of pictures. He knows exactly where he’s going. I’m in a blue sweaty t-shirt and my open chef’s whites. Which are now splattered with blood and dirt, Cady would not approve.

I’m standing in the hallway entrance stuck with the yapping mean girl dogs. Two of them are flanking their leader, who wears a red collar, and I don’t trust them not to take me out. I look around at her very nice, but matchy matchy, home and I hear them bickering. Cousin maybe? My brain searches for information from his past. He’d tell me if I asked, but I want to be smarter than that. They know each other. Like well. He told me he never had girlfriends except for, oh my god. I yell as the revelation hits me. “Oh, my god!” I run down the hallway, “You’re Manny’s cousin. His first. You’re the sorter of holy cards. You’re…”

This woman was Sal’s first everything. And he doesn’t have a shirt on. He smiles at me, and I am stunned. But then my thoughts turn to Manny. “Your cousin saved and protected my family. He was a good man.” Sal shakes his head ever so slightly and I don’t know what he’s trying to tell me. That I shouldn’t bring up Sonoma or my family?

“Yeah, yeah. That’s who he was. Thanks.” She kisses her medallion on her necklace. “Trust me, it’s his great honor to become the family martyr.”

Sal laughs too easily. “Tia Donna gotta shine, don’t she?”

“Hells yeah she does. You know I loved Manny. We all did, but he could be a bastard. But it’s like my Aunt Donna forgot all that shit he pulled, like the fucking strippers and all that wasted money on scams and scratchers.” Sal’s laugh is a full-on bluster now. I hate it. I hate that she made him laugh.

I cough a little and their heads spin toward mine. “So, you’re the first um…”

She purses her lips. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. First everything. I’m the first love.” He winks at her, and my body is a stew of anger and jealousy. No fucking way she had that wink first. That’s mine. I will battle her puppy posse for my man if it comes down to it.

“And the first hate,” he says. She shrugs and laughs. She has his shirt in one hand and her other hand on him. Granted, it’s a tea towel soaked in blood on his ribs but don’t fucking touch him.

“Get your skinny ass in here and help me find the fucking gunshot glue.” Who keeps gunshot glue on hand? And what the hell is it anyway?

“What?” I’m so confused. First of all, I haven’t even come down from being shot at. WE were shot at. And now we’re here, and she’s touching him.

“Gingersnap, it’s ok. Come here. Take over for Ang.”

“No!”

“No? You gonna let me bleed to death in her kitchen?”

“You’re bleeding.” He’s bleeding so much. This isn’t a scratch like he said.

Angelina looks at me and says with a scoff, “Snagged another winner I see.”

Sal hisses out a breath when I raise my eyebrows. “Ang. I want to say thank you for this before…”

“Before what? This one tells us more obvious shit.”

What’s happening? Now that I’m a part of his entire life, I realize just how compartmentalized he had me. She grabs a fresh tea towel, and I whip it from her hands.

“Touch him again and you lose some of those press-on nails.”

She towers over me. “Red’s got some bite. Good to see. But you’re in my house. He came for my help. History.” She walks off and I’m going to fucking kill her.

I grab paper towels and press them into his side not as gentle as she may have been doing.