I was outside three fucking minutes, and my future wife ghosted me.
Now, I’m seated in the backseat of a Lincoln Navigator with three Italians. Two are my uncles. One of them happens to be Piero, the guy who made those pizza pies. The other is Cecco in the passenger seat. Nobody important is in the driver’s seat.
Piero is at my side. “Toni called; she left a message. Needed some money.”
“I handled it.”
He pats my shoulder. “You’re a good man, like your father.”
Uncle Cecco says, “Yeah, you keep managing Big Tony’s responsibilities—”
“And I will continue to handle it so that nobody in the family thinks he needs to bebumped off.” Chuckling, I use the idiot words of my once brother-in-law. He thought it was all fun and games. Then he found himself hanging upside down outside of a window at the top level of Cecco’s skyscraper apartment. This was a year after my sister’s death when he swore he needed a job. He was given a simple assignment, which he was unable to fulfill. But Toni was a toddler; she deserved her father in her life. So, he dangled upside down until he passed out and threw up on himself.
“Well,” Piero muses. “We can’t wait for our little grandniece to become a detective. Nice to have someone on the right side of the law.”
“Speaking of…” Cecco clears his throat. “Who’s the legs, the tits, and the ass you brought into the place? Santino, why didn’t you introduce . . .”
“With all due respect, I think not, Cecco.”
“But, you could introduce the girl to my older brother.” He flashes Piero a look through the rearview mirror.
“Some of us still respect our women like we did back home. Learn to cook like Uncle Piero. I might introduce you.”
“Thank you.” Piero measures his words. “Will you be needing cash for your new lady friend?”
“No.”
He reaches into his blazer, removing a checkbook.
“Piero, I love you. No.”
“This is for Toni’s detective program. We’re proud of her. Thirteen years old, with such a good head on her shoulders. Hurts my heart that Little Mina has missed so much. Take it, Santino. We all take care of our family, not just you.”
“No . . .”
“Your mother still hates me.” His mouth pulls in pensive. “With your pa gone, my little sister has shunned the family, Santi.”
“Talk to her for us,” Cecco says.
“Cecco,” Piero says his name slowly. “She’s our sister. These are things you don’t ask of family. Are you sure about the pocket change?”
“I’m sure—”
“Or are you still shaking your ass?” Cecco laughs.
“Last night was mylastnight, thank you very much.”
Piero taps his checkbook against the leg of his tailored pants before setting it aside. “I sense you and your lady friend are on the fritz. You had a smile from here to Sicily the other night. Where’d it go?”
“We’ll be good once I see her.”
“No. Santino, you’re a prideful young man,” Piero replies. “You help your ma and niece. You must tell her what happened. A heart-to-heart goes a long way.”
I nod, though I don’t feel right sharing my niece’s business. When they drop me off, I redial Gina. My heart is clutched in my chest as I await her answer.
* * *
I letmyself into my mother’s house. The stairs shoot straight up behind the living room, and there’s a kitchen to one side.