No, those epic stories.
They weren’t for girls like her. Like me.
My soul is in the sky –A Midsummer Night’s Dream
Frank
I MUTTERED A curse under my breath as I re-entered the brisk New York air. She looked… so much like him.
And her.
Getting shot hurt less than seeing my flesh and blood and knowing without a doubt they did not even know who I was.
Did not know the circumstances of their birth.
Or how much they were loved, despite what they might think.
Grecco? I had not given Sal permission to use that name. Granted, all of my dealings with New York had been less than hostile.
The minute Luca took over the Nicolasi family.
All hell broke loose in mine.
Leaving me to pick up the pieces.
A divide had occurred between the ranks. Several of my cousins decided that their loyalty would be better served with the Nicolasis, while others were appalled at what I had done to my own brother — basically selling him to another crime family. Never mind that he was successful, or that it was because my father wished it.
I did what I had thought best.
I had been young.
Stupid.
Completely hell-bent on following through with my father’s wishes, unaware that by following through with his instructions, I’d break one of the strongest crime families that ever existed, allowing the Abandonatos to take their rightful place.
Not that I was bitter.
The Abandonatos were better being the leaders of the Cosa Nostra in the United States.
Just like the Campisis were best at running things overseas, and making sure every family was kept in check.
I patted the inside of my jacket, my old fingers fumbling with the letter from Luca, his dying wishes.
For me to find his children.
And establish them within the Family.
But I had to wonder.
By doing what he asked — would I push my family further away? Because a dead man’s wish… was a fickle thing. A slippery slope.
And if things went correctly….
I sighed again as I eyed the black Mercedes waiting.
Sergio.
The first chess pieces had already been moved.
Now.
I would wait.
“Oh, Luca,” I whispered. “I wish you were here. I do need your guidance, more than ever.”
The breeze picked up, whipping a newspaper around my legs. I kicked it off and made my way over to the waiting car.
Sergio looked up.
His face was pale.
He was a good actor, making his friends and family believe that he was doing fine. That his wife’s death was making him a better man — and in a way, it was.
But he was also mourning.
He was more than devastated.
He was lost.
I knew the look well.
For it was in my own lonely reflection every day.
Dear God, don’t let him turn out like me.
I clutched the silver chained cross in my pocket and said a prayer to the saints, a prayer to Mary.
And hoped.
That was all I could do.
Pray.
And hope.
“It’s their move.” I said once I was inside the car, the door slammed after me. “I have established my presence. We will see how they accept us this evening.”
Sergio frowned. “This evening?”
“A party.” I slapped him on the thigh. “So try not to look like your wife just died. Even though I know she did. Whatever it takes. We get the job done, do you understand?”
“Yes,” he snapped, his eyes focusing for the first time in hours. Sergio did well under pressure, under orders, control. The kid didn’t need a hug, he needed a good ass kicking.
I was just the man to do it.
I’d like to think Luca knew that.
Which is why, if Dante and Val wanted nothing to do with us, it would be Sergio taking my place.
Sergio leading my family.
I needed him strong.
My gut clenched as my past unfolded in my head… Funny, I had said that exact same statement over thirty years ago, as justification, of what I did to Luca, forcing him away from the only woman he had ever loved, faking his death.
Keeping them apart.
“Hey, you all right?” Sergio elbowed me. “You look like you may be sick.”
“Eh.” I waved him off. “I’m old. I’m always in pain.”
He rolled his eyes and let out a small laugh.
I tried to join in.
But my chest pained me.
For regardless of what people assumed, I did still possess my heart. And when I thought upon my sins, the direct result was a physical pain that refused to leave me.
A pain that reminded me.
I wasn’t just playing with lives.
But shaping destinies.
And I was the least worthy of them all to be doing such a thing.
If the shadows have offended think but this, and all is mended, That you have but slumbered here, While these visions did appear, And this weak and idle theme, No more yielding but a dream. –A Midsummer Night’s Dream
Valentina
“JUST TRY TO be nice,” Sal encouraged in a stern voice. “We bought a dress!”
“Yes,” I said dryly. “I can see that.”
It was a pink monstrosity that had puffed sleeves and ruffles around the middle; it looked like something a first grader would wear and, even then, she’d probably still get made fun of. I half expected to see ankle socks with hearts and little black shoes. My first heels! Yay!
“Val.” Gio yawned and motioned to the dress with his cane. “We thought you would want to feel special on your special day.”