Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 60550 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 303(@200wpm)___ 242(@250wpm)___ 202(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60550 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 303(@200wpm)___ 242(@250wpm)___ 202(@300wpm)
“You’re going to be,” Juliana says.
“Nice to meet you.” I smile, wondering if her resistance is like mine.
This is the part of the family I’ve missed. This easy talkative acceptance. Large groups of people gathered in kitchens around food. People knowing who you are and that you belong, including you even when you don’t want to be included.
Except I don’t belong here. Or if I do, I don’t want to.
“Ma, you remember Artie Palazzo’s daughter?” Carmen says to Joey’s mom.
Donna Teresa gives me a speculative look. “Sure, I remember. You came with Joey?”
“Yes.” I present myself for kisses from her.
“Did you fix his back yet? That’s what he really needs. He does enough dating.” She waves a hand in the air as if to disparage the entire idea of dating and dismissing me at the same time.
“Eh, dating’s fine too, Ma,” Carmen says. “I’m thrilled. Joey hasn’t brought a girlfriend around since he broke up with Amelia over a year ago.”
“I’m not his girlfriend,” I assert, which Joey would probably argue with. It doesn’t matter because they’re not listening to me.
“He should’ve married that girl! She was perfect for him,” Donna Teresa cries, and Carmen rolls her eyes at me behind her back.
“Excuse me.” I escape to find my Aunt Marie. When I spot her, I give her a huge hug. Marie begins her usual gossip, which is a relief, as it keeps my mind off thinking about what Joey revealed about my father’s death.
He hesitated when I asked if someone here killed him. Which means my mom was right. My dad was killed by the LaTorre’s.
Does Marie know? How can she still be a part of this family when they killed her own brother?
When the men come in with the meat, I keep myself completely occupied with Marie, not up for being with Joey. Of course, he comes to stand at my elbow, and when I don’t take the hint, he puts his arm around my waist and directs me to a white leather couch in the living room.
Like most big Italian family gatherings, the house is packed with noise and people—children running amok, loud voices exclaiming and chattering. It usually makes it easy enough for me to fade away, but it seems coming as Joey’s date makes invisibility impossible. His mother plops herself in the easy chair next to us.
“So how is your mother?” Donna Teresa asks.
“She’s well. She lives in Florida now.”
“So I heard. Remarried, eh?”
I nod, willing the knots in my belly to release. I’m certain Donna Teresa dislikes my mom. Probably because my mom made it plain she thought the woman’s husband was responsible for the death of my dad.
“Do you like him?” Donna Teresa asks. “The new husband?”
I chew my lip and shrug. “Not so much. But he makes my mom happy.”
“Ah.” The older woman’s eyes glint. “That’s important.”
“Hey, Joey,” Sammy calls to him. “Come on, Al wants us in the office.”
Joey seems reluctant.
“He said it’s important.”
Joey squeezes my knee. “I’ll be back in a minute.”
Even though I’m the one who’s been avoiding him since we got here, I feel abandoned. But I can’t lean on Joey here. He’s one of them. I’m the outsider. The one who doesn’t want to fit in.
I watch the men file into Al’s office. Was it one of them? Pauly? Sammy? Tony? Is his killer here tonight?
“I’m taking off, Donna Teresa,” a young college-aged man says, leaning down to kiss her.
Right. I don’t need Joey to hold my hand, and I don’t need to wait for him to take me home, either. “Are you driving anywhere near the business district?” I ignore the raised eyebrows of Donna Teresa.
“Yeah, you need a ride?”
“Yes, please.” I jump up to grab my purse and give Aunt Marie a quick kiss.
I need to get out of here before I say or do something I totally regret.
Joey
“Have you seen Sophie?” I ask my mom, not spotting her anywhere when I return.
“She left with Eddie.”
Eddie? I scowl. “What? When?”
“Right after you left.”
I swear under my breath.
“Joey, I think you should let that one go. She’s beautiful. But she doesn’t love you.”
I roll my eyes. “I’ve only been dating her for a week, Ma. Of course, she doesn’t love me.”
“I mean, she can’t. She never will. It has nothing to do with you—it’s about who you are.”
I stare at my mom, not understanding.
“She can’t handle La Cosa Nostra. She’s just like her mother.”
I bristle at the mention of her mom, more details of the night Artie Palazzo died surfacing in my memory. “She’s not like her mother.”
Except a sick sense of knowing washes over me. Maybe my mom’s right. Maybe I’m trying to convert Sophie to a life she’d hate, the same way her mother had hated. Because her mother’s hate started long before Artie died. Her mother’s hate was indirectly the cause of his death.