He wipes his mouth with a handkerchief, getting to his feet with some effort. “You prove to me you’re about more than drinking and whoring and I’ll make you Don. How does that sound?”
“You mean you’ll change the will?”
“You understand the business better than him.”
“So make me Don now. Retire in peace.”
“It must be this way. He is the older brother. By rights, he should take over. The clause in the will was the only thing the commission would accept over giving him the role. I cannot fight them, no matter how powerful I am. I am just one weak old man.”
He reaches out for my face but he doesn’t make it. Another bout of coughing takes him and this time there’s something different about it. He staggers, putting one hand out in front of him, his eyes bulging.
Before I can get to my feet he’s fallen forward, his face smacking into the tiled floor. I roll him over but his eyes are glazed already. I don’t need a doctor to tell me he’s dead.
The diner door swings open. Giovanni’s coming in with two of his personal bodyguards bringing up the rear. “What happened?” he asks. “You killed him, didn’t you.”
“Don’t be an asshole,” I tell him. “Call an ambulance.”
The guards point their guns at me. “You killed our father,” he continues. “I will take over as regent and you will go home and stay there until the commission confirm me in my place.”
I get to my feet slowly, the guns tracking my movements. “You sure you want to play it this way?” I ask him. “You remember what the will said.”
He barks out a laugh. “As if you’ll have a wife and child before me. “Santina is on the best fertility meds you can buy. She will be pregnant by next month. The commission will confirm me as Don and then I might just send you to our slaughterhouse in Sardinia. Make you work there for the rest of your life.”
“You think I’ll do what you tell me?”
“You will obey your Don or the commission will execute you. Simple as that. Get out before I change my mind and have you shot.”
His men step aside. I walk out of the diner, leaving them to deal with our father’s body. I get into my car and drive back to the house, thinking how my night can’t get any worse.
At least I have a chance. Giovanni doesn’t know about Aurora. I can still marry her and get her pregnant. The commission will crown me as Don. Then he might get sent to our slaughterhouse. Just desserts, you might say.
I get back home only to find Rory has left the house while I’ve been gone.
It’ll be six months before I see her again, and when I do, I won’t recognize her until it’s far too late.
Seventeen
Aurora
* * *
Six months have gone by but I still think about them every day. Mario and Luigi. The gruesome twosome.
Sometimes, I think they might come bounding up to me when I’m walking in the park. I see a couple of dogs that look like them and I’m sure I got it wrong. They’re not dead. They just went missing.
I know the truth. I’m not an idiot. My brain might be trying to be optimistic but it’s not real. It’s not optimism. It’s delusion brought on by grief.
I miss my dogs more than I miss my family. Does that make me a bad person?
It’s not like I control how my mind works. In the months since it happened, I’ve tried my best to miss them, to feel pain and loss. The most I can manage is that I miss the familiarity of that life.
This new one is different in so many ways. I’ve changed my name, my hair, my makeup. I’ve lost weight. The grief diet, I’m guessing you could call it.
Mario and Luigi are dead. The horses are all dead. Everyone in that house is dead. I have no family except Cara and she’s somewhere in Italy. I’ve no way of contacting her. Her cellphone doesn’t even ring. She might as well be dead.
Even if I could get in touch, it’s not like I can help her get into college or anything like that. I’ve got barely enough money to live on. I’ve no idea where my father hid all of his assets but I’m guessing the Casella famiglia took them.
They’ve taken over all our businesses. The bakeries, the butchers. If we had a candlestick maker, they’d have taken that too.