“He’d be a good husband for you,” her grandfather said, staring her in the eyes, warning her not to talk back.
Chrissy jumped from her chair. “Unacceptable! Not! Happening!” In her indignation, she stuttered one-word answers. She couldn’t believe this was happening. This was old-fashioned, patriarchal, ridiculous!
As these words ran through her head, her grandfather shook his finger at her. “You’ll show respect, young lady.”
“Or what?” she hissed. This was her life. They had no right thinking they could arrange a marriage or plan love.
“Chrissy,” her father said tiredly. “Don’t go there.”
“Don’t go there? Don’t go where?” she spat. “You’d whore me out to the Roccos because you men can’t manage your business affairs properly? What is it this time? Someone overstepped in the Roccos’ territory? Sold drugs on one of their street corners? Ran a numbers racket in one of their towns?”
Now her father got to his feet, his complexion flushing with anger.
“That’s enough, young lady!” he snapped. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I know exactly what I’m saying! You don’t think I’ve seen the meetings here in the dark of night? Different 'associates' brought to the house, bloody from some scrape? Or have I not heard enough Sunday dinner conversations about how all the Roccos should have a Christian burial as soon as possible. And now you want me to marry one? Not happening. Not fucking happening.”
Both men scowled at Christina’s anger outburst.
She was good and worked up, and her mind formed a barrage of insults to hurl at them.
A feminine voice behind her broke the atmosphere. “Enough, Christina,” her mother said with acid sternness. “You’re not going to spoil your grandfather’s birthday party with a tantrum.” Then, in a softer voice, she turned to the men. “Excuse me, Papa, Vince. Christina needs to help me in the kitchen.”
With those graceful words spoken, she motioned for Chrissy to follow her. Grateful to end this conversation, she did. But as soon as Rose Serafina shut the door she gripped her daughter’s arm fiercely.
“What’s your problem?” she hissed in a low and angry voice.
Chrissy shook off the arm. “You know what it is.”
Rose’s face softened. “Yes. Men and their schemes.” Then her face hardened. “But that gives you no reason to be disrespectful to your grandfather, or your father.”
“But, Mama—”
“No ‘but Mamas.’ Go fix your face. It’s all red. Then come help me in the kitchen.” Her mother moved off quickly.
Christina’s anger hadn’t ebbed as she took the steps to her childhood bedroom and shut the world out in the confines of her former bathroom. She did a lot of that when she was younger, when she was trying to sort out what it meant to be the daughter and granddaughter of crime bosses. It was in this bathroom she decided that she was going to college, come hell or high water, despite her parents’ objections.
She ran the water, not so much to splash on her face but to drown out the noise of the party downstairs. Soon she’d have to go back and plaster a fake smile on her face. The she'd talk to her relatives, as if her male relatives hadn’t dropped the biggest bombshell in her life.
Her silent world, punctuated only by the rush of water from the faucet, shattered from a knock on the door.
“Christina?”
Fuck. Gloria.
“Go away.”
“Too late,” said Gloria, swinging the door open. In her hand was the key to the bathroom that Christina thought lost years ago. The little bitch must’ve been hiding it all this time.
“Leave me alone.”
“Oh, come on, Chrissy. You’re acting as if someone wanted to lead you to slaughter, not to a church wedding.”
Chrissy remembered Gloria’s taunt from the previous night. “How long have you known about this?” This was a slaughter. Her own personal massacre.
“I might’ve overheard something on Friday night when Marcus was playing cards with Papa and Grandpa.”
“You might? You might?” Chrissy replied, her voice rising. “And you couldn’t be bothered to tell me? Your own sister?”
“Yes. They swore me to secrecy, though I was dying to tell you. But if I did you wouldn’t have come, and then the family would blame me because I can’t keep my mouth shut.”
“This is a nightmare.” Chrissy buried her head in her hands. “This cannot be happening.”
“I thought you were a smart businesswoman.”
Chrissy lifted her head. “What’re you talking about?”
“Here you are, fussing and fighting and playing the victim, and not mapping out a game plan to get one over on them. Chrissy it’s no secret you don’t need the family, except that you love us. Now, don’t look at me like that. It's true. And you have no problems with any of us, just how Papa and Grandpa earn their money.”
Chrissy stared at her sister. “It doesn’t matter what I think, does it?”