Page 66 of Mafia Queen
“When your father says something,” Mamma growls. She is so, so, so very mad.
I’m shaking in terror already, but I can’t go to my father. He’s right near the box, and the box is not a gift. The box is evil. The box has horns. I am overtired and convinced the box will get Mamma and Papino dead.
There’s no way out.
I’m between the anvil and the hammer.
I start wailing, tears falling, breath hitching with sobs as I shake my head no, no, no, no…
* * *
The early morningrumble and whistle of the trains coming into and out of Napoli Centrale is not what wakes me. It’s the silence. No birds. No bugs. No Santino breathing at my side. Again.
This will be the second day without him. The first went by quietly. During the evening, we heard pops and cracks from the south. I went to the windows facing down into the city, but it’s partially blocked by trees and shrubs.
“He’s probably grating them into cheese,” Remo says with a shrug of confidence in the king. He puts his hand on my shoulder and squeezes before taking it away. “Don’t worry. He has this.”
“A lighter isn’t going to save him twice.”
“Tough people are tough. Like you. I didn’t think you’d end up here, but I ain’t surprised you’re good at it.”
“I wasn’t tough in school. I wasn’t anything.”
He scoffs. “Sure. You came right into the boys’ gym class and told Mr. Hamlin if he ever called your sister fat again—”
“I’d show him what a pound of flesh looked like.” I shrug. “That’s not tough. That’s choosing enemies carefully.”
“And Dina Marchesi? On the basketball court?”
I touch the back of my head where repeated contact with the pavement left a scar. “She won that fight pretty easily.”
So many of my brain cells got shattered on the pavement that the memory of the incident is made of the stars in my eyes and Dina’s twisted face bordered by sky.
“But you kept coming back. She was two years older and bigger and a lot stupider, but you kept coming at her. That’s tough.”
“I don’t even remember what we were fighting about.”
“She said your father died like a Castellano wannabe.”
“What does that even mean?”
“No clue.” He shrugs. “Figured you did. Anyway. Hold tight. Dario’s a big piece in New York. We’re safe up here.”
“Yeah.”
Santino’s probably doing the job he does best, and he needs to have faith that I’m holding down the fort while he does it.
I stay out of the way like I’m told, but I won’t be able to for much longer.
After dinner, Celia washes the dishes while Loretta and I wipe down the tables.
“He’s okay,” Loretta says, apropos of nothing.
“This is a feeling you have? Or real information?”
“A feeling.”
“I have the same wish.”
