Santo knows me well. “Don’t beat yourself up, Orlando. You couldn’t have helped us if you were there.”
I shake my head. He knows it’s a lie. He knows I’m the group heavy, I’m the one that battles to the death, that I never leave a brother in need and that I fight to kill.
“You said she’s waiting for me?”
Romeo nods. “She will be, shortly.”
I’ll do what I have to for my brotherhood.
This is not going to be a wedding with a lot of ceremony. We haven’t had a big wedding party in ages. Sometimes, a wedding is merely a quick affair.
I’m wearing faded civilian clothing. I need a shower and I’ll be good. “Who’s met her before? Just Rosa?”
Romeo nods.
I think about this, what the implications are for our family, what we need to do next. “You don’t just need me to marry, do you?”
Romeo looks away. His own wife has been unable to bear him children. It’s likely a sore point for him. But I know how The Family works, I know what’s expected. I’ll marry this woman I’ve never met. I’ll have her as my wife, and give her everything that’s expected, everything she needs. In turn, she’ll learn what my expectations are, but as a mafia daughter, I expect she already knows much of it.
But I know what else I have to do. Now that my father’s gone and Romeo and I are the only ones who’ll be married, not only do I have to marry, but I’ll have to have children. Fucking breed her.
“You said Rosa is in Tuscany. Does anybody have her number?” I don’t have a cell phone. All of my belongings were taken from me when I was arraigned, and I sent my personal belongings home. Romeo takes out his cell phone, a sleek black number, hits a button on the side and hands it to me. “Call Rosa.”
It’s late there. She doesn’t answer.
I hang up the call and hit the side button again. “Call Marialena.”
The phone rings, and she picks it up on the third ring.
“Romeo? Do you have him? Did you bring him to his townhouse yet? Is she pretty?”
“For fuck’s sake, Marialena.”
There’s a pause and then, “Oh my God, Orlando!”
“Yeah, it’s me. How are you?”
“I heard what was happening, and I’m just worried is all. But Rosa says that she’s really sweet. She likes to shop, but whatever, so do I. She really likes her fashion, but again, so do I. She’s…maybe four, five years younger than you are. Um…I don’t really know what else except that her dad probably kind of spoiled her, but you know, maybe she outgrew that.”
I roll my eyes mentally. And maybe she didn’t. Yeah, I can handle that. I won’t have a spoiled wife.
“What does she look like?”
“I have no idea. But I know Romeo wouldn’t arrange for a marriage to somebody who’s ugly. She must be pretty.”
I snort. It’s all subjective.
“Alright, thanks. See you soon, kiddo.”
I can deal with a brat. I practically raised Marialena. I can deal with someone who’s cranky. I’m no walk in the park myself. I could even deal with a girl that wasn’t pretty, since beauty’s in the eye of the beholder and all that. But I can’t deal with a nag or a bitch. I’m not gonna play games.
At this point, I don’t fucking care. Men in my family often lay down their lives for us. The least I can do is marry.
We make it to my place in town.
God, it feels good to come home. I’m looking forward to getting up to The Castle, to eating Mama and Nonna’s good food. Kicking back in front of a fire. Having a drink with my brothers. But not now.
We all own various homes throughout the world. We all have residences at The Castle and north of Boston, various locales in Boston proper, and Tuscany as well. Romeo has a new place in Bora Bora too.
I was only twenty-one years old when I bought my first home. But this is the first time I see it through the eyes of a possible future wife. Will she like what she sees?
Do I care?
My parents had a loveless marriage, my grandparents as well. But Romeo… Romeo gives me hope.
Jesus. Apparently being in the big house has made me soft.
My marriage will be nothing more than a business transaction.
I’ve got what I need. A hot shower to soak my muscles after a hard workout. Refrigerator well-stocked with cold beer, wine from my family’s vineyard, and food from my family’s restaurants in the North End. I don’t care about decorations, or subway tile, or whatever fucking granite countertops are the most recent. Marialena came with me and helped me pick out the decor and we paid plenty for it.
She said that my future wife is a shopper. I can handle shopping. My family has more money than they know what to do with, and my wife will be very well-off.