Page 33 of Mafia Queen
“Don’t bullshit me, Octavio.” I grab a handful of his hair and give his head a playful shake. “You’d tell her to run.”
“I would not.” He pushes my hand away.
“Don’t lie to me. You’d give her your car keys and a full tank of gas so she could get out.”
In a low Italian falsetto of my voice, he replays an incident from our childhood. “‘Run, Tavie, before they get shoved up your ass! Run!’”
“How stupid do you have to be to steal strawberries from Emilio Moretti? Eh? Who does this?” I push his shoulder. “Men get killed for less.”
“I was seven.”
“You were eight. And that only means Camilla’s the one to beat you. Or worse, I have to do it to prove I won’t go easy on my little brother.”
We drop into silence. He’s not my brother, but he is as close as anyone will ever be.
“You would have gone easy,” he murmurs.
“I did. I let you run.”
“Yeah. You were a good brother to me and Gia.”
“Tavie,” I say, trying to tell him the thing I don’t want to.
“I know, Santi.”
“What do you know?”
“Gia. She… You’re going to… You’re really mad at her, and I don’t blame you. She shot you.”
“She did more than that.”
“Don’t say it. Whatever she did, don’t tell me. It’s not my business. But you should let her run away. Send her with nothing in her pockets if that’s what you have to do.”
He’s pleading for Gia when what I wanted to talk about was his father. Give him the option to be far away when we drag the man onto the compound. But we arrive at Loretta’s. I’ll have to do it when we get back.
The white BMW I bought her two years ago is parked at the bottom of the driveway, same as the last time I came, and she wasn’t the only one here then. That tank Damiano drives must have been in the garage. I have to assume he’s in the house, maybe not hiding in the bushes this time, or maybe hiding someplace else.
“I’m leaving this in front of the garage doors,” I tell Tavie. He looks back at me, too green to hide the fact that he wants to know why. “If someone’s parked there, we block it.”
“Yes. Okay. Smart.”
I put a hand on his shoulder and give him a little shake. “It’s going to be all right.”
“Are you sure?”
“I am always sure.”
“Okay.” He gives a sharp nod, convincing himself. “I believe you.”
“Bene. I’m leaving the keys. Get out with me, but stay by the car. Keep your eyes open.”
“I will.”
We get out. Tavie stands in the driveway to watch, and I approach the patio. Before I get there, Loretta swings open the door.
“Santino,” she says, arms crossed.
In those three syllables I hear an unusual guardedness. As though my name is banging up against a metal shield, making it rattle just a little. Once it was clear I was going to marry Violetta, she and I had to stop fucking, and even then, she didn’t put armor around herself with me. She didn’t volunteer information either.
