Page 61 of Mafia Queen
“Okay. Got it.”
“Do you?”
I hold the gun with one hand and pull the trigger. The gun recoils and flies from my grip. The bottle stands.
“You almost killed two people a block away. Pay attention.” He scoops up the weapon and gives it back to me. “Don’t you watch television?”
“Sure.”
“How do they hold it?”
I turn the gun sideways and point it at the bottle.
“Santo Dio, no.” He pushes my arm down and comes behind me again, close this time, so I can feel his body pressed against mine. He runs his hand down my left arm and places it under the grip of my right, breathing on my neck, running his lips along the length of it. “Like this. The left steadies the right.”
“Do I really need this to get my Z’s? Or is it for when we go to… Where are Dami and Gia?”
“Vasto Quarry. Dami killed Franco and took his place. Hold it straight. If you can’t give this your attention, your full effort, you shouldn’t carry it.”
In a split second, a defensive wall inside me is built brick by brick—even though he’s right.
“My professors used to say that to me when I coasted on B-plus grades.”
“There is no coasting.” He turns me around to face him, and I make sure to keep the gun far from him. “Your father had your mother with him every day. As much as he could. And when he wasn’t there, me or Dami or one of a dozen other guys watched over her.”
My good mood dissipates like the last bit of water in a hot teapot. “How did it happen then?”
“That night, Dami got me tickets to a soccer game, but when I heard they were going out, I worked anyway.”
“So you let it happen?” I don’t mean to blame him. I don’t. But I want to get at any guilt he’s left lying in the corners of his heart.
“Yes and no. My point is they had protection. Everything went right. It didn’t matter. He wasn’t protecting her by keeping her close. She was killed with him.”
My mother’s purple hat, leaning in a doorway. One shoe off. Me thinking she’ll lose it the way Rosetta loses hers. God, I hate my brain. I hate that I was five.
“Something was going on that night,” I say. “But I was too young to know what.”
“It was just an anniversary dinner.”
It wasn’t. My mother was turning into a stone version of herself.
If you find yourself dead, that deal is off.
You can only swear on what’s yours.
Their marriage had been arranged. I know this in my gut. Things said that I barely remember. Intonations and assumptions. It was the way it was.
“I don’t think she loved him anymore.” I turn back to the target. “If she ever did.”
“We can’t correct the past.” He kisses the back of my neck. “We can only do better. When you are waiting, when you are talking, you hold the gun up at your shoulder.” He draws my arm up. “This makes you safe from accidents and still ready to shoot in any direction.”
“Okay. I’m ready.”
“Good. Aim.”
I lower both hands. The bottle is so far away. The bullet is so small, and I am just a girl out of her depth, and I hate how hard it all is.
“You know what I’d do? If I were queen?”
