“What do you do?” I have to admit I’m curious how Lito was able to get out. Usually, men in the families are expected to keep their lines strong, to take part in the family businesses, and even to fight over the top spot.
“This and that. I’ve been an extra in almost 50 movies.” He twirls an imaginary mustache. “I once drove Tom Cruise from the airport to the Beverly Hills Hotel. Can you believe that? He was a good tipper, too. But the main thing I do is make pottery.” He holds up one of his hands, the skin around his fingertips dry and weathered. “Doesn’t matter how many masks I do, they stay like this. The clay sucks up all my good moisturizer. I spend a fortune at Sephora, and they still look like this. Mateo gives me shit about that, too.” He smiles, and I find myself somewhat shocked at what I’ve discovered—Mateo loves his brother, and his brother loves him back. Love, something that seemed impossible in a man like him, but here it is. I can hear it in the way Lito talks about him.
Just listening to him opens up a whole new facet to Mateo I’d never even imagined. He has a brother, and not just that, a brother Mateo has encouraged to live his own life well outside the families. “You’re the creative member of the family, I guess.”
“Oh, Mateo can be pretty damn creative. But his main medium is blood.” He wrinkles his nose. “Just not my style.” He takes an exit and cruises along the ramp, then makes a sharp turn toward the upscale shopping district that lies along the southern edge of downtown. “God, I’ve missed this city. Everything so grimy but also polished to a shine where it matters.” He parks in a fire lane at the front of Neiman Marcus, then steps out and stretches. “Yeah, I definitely need some new clothes too. It doesn’t get this cold in L.A.” He rubs his hands together and walks around to my side of the car. “New wardrobes for both of us. Today is going to be fun.” He grabs my shoulders and turns me around so we walk together. “Just one thing.” He pauses before opening the store’s doors for me.
“What?” I ask.
“If anyone asks—” He eyes my makeshift dress again. “—we are definitely not together.”
14
MATEO
“Are you even listening to me?”
I look up at Sonny whose forehead is wrinkled in worry.
“I’m serious. Red may have really screwed the pooch this time.”
“I know.” I shrug. “But we’ll get him out of it.”
“Why would you just turn over 50 large to him when you know how he is?”
“Are you questioning my ability to run this family?”
He groans and throws up his hands. “Why do you jump to the worst possible conclusion? Of course I’m not questioning your ability to do anything. I’m simply pointing out that Red is a fuckup, and Red with a pocketful of cash is an even bigger fuckup.”
He has a point. Actually, he has two.
I grumble and glance out at the coastline below. “I admit I may have put a little too much faith in him on this one.”
Sonny waves a hand. “I mean, look, I know I’m being dramatic, okay? I think I’m just on edge because you’ve been acting so strangely ever since the wedding.”
I can’t argue with him there. I feel different. I look at the band on my finger, the one that’s very close to cutting off my circulation. When I decided to take Lucretia, it was nothing more than a business move, a way to set up the kill shot on her family. But the moment I saw her standing there with blood on her veil and her eyes dazed, I felt something inside me shift. At first I thought it was simply the triumph of the moment, of finally starting my revenge against the Fontanas and the Manchellos, but now I realize it was more. It was her.
“I saw your file on her,” he says more quietly.
“You going through my desk now?” I ask.
“You left it out …” He clears his throat. “A couple of times.”
I suppose I was a bit foolish to think Sonny wouldn’t notice my interest in Lucretia. He’s my right hand, the trust between us unbreakable. My parents never officially adopted him, but like Red and Benny, he’s been an honorary member of the family since we were kids. I smile when I remember my mother—she never met a stray she wouldn’t take in.
“I just think you’ve been a little distracted.” He holds his hands up, palms toward me. “Not a criticism, just an observation.”
I shake my head. “Criticize all you want. If I can’t get the straight shit from you, then who’s going to tell me? Benny?” I snort a laugh. “Red?”