Chapter Eleven
Carlo
I chew the end of a cigar and look at my cards. We’re at Swank, the nightclub owned by Joey LaTorre. It was half-destroyed by a bomb intended to kill all of us a few months ago. Bobby, one of the capos who owns a construction company used by the outfit to launder money, oversaw the rebuilding, and had his crews working round the clock, so our evening headquarters was restored in a matter of weeks.
We resumed our weekly game immediately–a fuck you to the Matrangas for trying to take us down. And Sammy. The fucker who betrayed us. Wish I’d been the one to end him. I would’ve made it a long and drawn-out affair. I’ve got a mean streak I don’t mind flexing for Family business.
I don’t love cigars, but it’s part of the male bonding. Al loves them, and this is the way we commune with him. Joey’s here, a changed man since the explosion. Or maybe it’s since Sophie. But things shifted between him and Al, too. He’s taken a step back from the day-to-day operations of the outfit. He sticks to numbers and legit business enterprises. I’ve taken a step forward with the most dangerous activities.
The atmosphere of this game was night and day different from my high-stakes game. That one is business: this is pleasure. Loud voices fill the room, men talking with their hands, boasting and bragging, razzing each other in a good-natured way.
“So, Carlo, you got a new girlfriend?”
Fucking Vince.
Some heads swivel in my direction.
“No.”
“No? Really? I thought you had a girl there when I stopped by Saturday.” The guy glances at the don, and I want to kill him.
I work hard not to visibly stiffen. Fuck. I hope Vince didn’t figure out I had Summer over at my place.
I want to say, “Just a piece of ass,” to shut him up, but if Vince thinks it was Summer, no way I’m going to disrespect her that way.
Al eyes me, probably picking up my discomfort. The guy’s good at reading people. “Do you have a new girlfriend?”
“No.” I need to tread carefully here. If—when—it comes out I’m dating Summer, I don’t want to be guilty of any lies. “I’ve been seeing someone. Not officially a girlfriend yet, but I’m working on it.”
Al’s face breaks into a broad smile, and guilt makes me queasy. “So she’s girlfriend material? It’s about time you made a real connection. You’d be more respectable if you had a woman.”
Yeah, especially if that woman is the don’s daughter. Unless the don objects, in which case I’m a dead man, as the saying goes. Funny how my original attraction to Summer was the very fact that she was the mafia princess, and now it’s what gives me nightmares. It’s not about marrying into the family anymore. That was a foolish ambition of my early years. No, now it’s just about Summer. The woman who’s captured everything for me.
The culture of La Famiglia is old-fashioned. The woman you marry isn’t the one you fuck like a whore. You keep the depravity out of the family house. I suppose that idea was bred into me, and yet discovering that the pure, wholesome angel I set my sights on marrying is also willing to submit to my depravity sent my worlds colliding. But in a good way. A perfect way. I don’t really objectify women the way the guys around me do. To me, Summer’s everything—all I can see, all I will ever need.
I want to claim her for real—not in my bed, but as my wife, as my forever-girl. But it’s far too soon. She’s still mixed up and on the rebound. And I haven’t figured out how to play things with her parents. It’s been less than two weeks since I found her stripping at The Candy Store. This situation requires patience, which has never been my strong suit.
I eye Joey, Al’s younger brother. He serves as a resource—an investment broker, an advisor. He might have some advice about how to handle this situation with Summer.
I hang around late, even though the thought of Summer at home in my bed makes me crazy. The guys all get up around the same time to go, and I walk out to the club with them, hanging back without being obvious about it.
“Hey I gotta show you something if you can stay for a sec.” Joey lifts his chin at me.
“Sure thing.” Lucky break. I wander back to his office and wait. When he comes, I ask, “What’s up?”
“Nothing, I got the feeling you wanted to talk to me.”
Smart fuck. And I thought I was perfectly subtle. I’ll have to watch myself in the future.
“You were hanging back at the end there. What’s up?”
Well, now I have no choice but to come out with it now. “Summer’s the girl I’m dating.”