LOYALTY
JOHN+SIENA,BOOK1
ONE
Theblackcar pulledupandparkedalongsideofJohnathan.Thesightofadarkvehiclewithtinted windowswassofamiliar tohimhealmostsmiled. Almost.
Agoodportionofhislifewasfilledwithmemoriesofcarsjustlikethisonepickinghimupfor onethingor another.Likelysomesituationhe’dgottenhimselfintoandneededoutof.
Thepassenger window rolleddownandrevealedthepersonwhohadcometopickJohnupthis time.He did smileatthesightofGiovanni behindthewheel.
“Zio,”Johngreeted.
Uncle.
Truthbetold,Giovanni hadalwaysbeenmorelikeafriendandbrother toJohnthanjustanuncle. Especiallynow thatJohnwasthirtyandnotjustakidunder hisuncle’sfeetanymore.
Still,Giovanni wastheonepersoninJohn’sfamilythatheconnectedwithonalevel oftrustthat hedidn’thavewithanyoneelse.Despitethesaltpepperingthefifty-seven-year-old’shair,andthe linesonhisfacethatsaidGiovanni wasnotayoungman,hesomehow still gaveofftheair ofyouth. Antony,John’sgrandfather,alwayssaidthatGiovanni hadayoungsoul.
Whatever thatmeant.
“John,”hisunclereplied.“Getin.We’regoingtobelateasitiswiththedrive.Theytoldmeyou wouldbegettingoutattwelve,andit’salreadyone.”
“Theyhadsomekindofdelayonthepaperwork.”
Giovanni pointedatthepassenger door.“Don’tcare.Getin.”
Johnathanknew better thantodisobeyGiovanni.Pullingopenthepassenger door,hetossedthe largebrownpaper bagtothefloor ofthecar andclimbedin.Hehadn’tevenshutthedoor completely beforetheGiohitthegas,andthecar lurchedforward.
“Shit,”Johnsaid,grabbingfor somethingtosteadyhimselfandlaughing.“Slow down.I’dliketo seeMaatleastoncemorebeforeIdie,all right.”
Giosmirked.“Notyour father?”
“Youknow how itis.”
“Idon’t,actually.Lucian,likeDante,ismybestfriend.We’vealwaysbeenclose,John.WhenI wasyounger,hadnoself-control andtoomanyissuestoname,Ialwayshadmybrothers.Whenmy father feltamillionmilesaway,mybrotherswerestill there.So,no,Idon’tunderstand.”
“It’slikethis,he’snotmybrother.”
Giohummedunder hisbreath.“He’syour father,Iknow.”
Johnhadnever seeneyetoeyewithhisfather onalotofthings.Lucianwasagoodfather,asfar asthatwent.He’dalwaysbeengoodtoJohnandhissisters.Helovedhischildrentotally.ButJohn hadalwaysfeltmisplacedsomehow inhislife.Or evenoutoftouchwiththepeoplearoundhim,his father included.Itmadeitdifficulttohaveaconnectionlikehisyounger sistershadtotheir mother andfather.
“Whatisinthebag?”Gioasked,passingthebrownsackJohnhadtossedtothecar floor alook. Johnshrugged.“ShitIwentinwith.Clothes,awatch,stufflikethat.Nothingimportant.”
“Letmeseeyour band,John.”
“Why?”
“Letmeseeit.”
Sighing,Johnliftedhishanduptoshow offtheleather wristbandheworewithhisfamily’screst embossedacrossthemiddle.“Happy?”
“Justmakingsureyougotthatback,too.”
“EverythingthatItookincamebackoutwithme, Zio. ”
“Idon’ttrustthesystem,John.”
Neither didJohn,really.
“Thanksfor sendingapackagetotheprisonfor metohaveclean,decentclothestocomeoutwith today,”Johnsaid.
Gioshothisnephew alook.“Ididn’tsendanything,John.” “Whodid?”
“Your father.Hesentitupacoupleofweeksago,soyouwouldhaveasuittowear today.He thinksaboutyouevenwhenyou’renotthinkingabouthim.”
Johnwishedthatmadehimfeel something,butall hegotwasatwingeinhischestthatreminded himofhow detachedhetrulywas.Ithadalwaysbeenthiswayfor him.Henever feltathome;he alwayslookedatthepeoplearoundhimlikehewasontheoutsidelookingin.
“So,whatisyour nextweeklookinglike?”Gioasked.
“Nothingunusual.Ihavetocheckinwiththeprobationofficer.Threeyearsofthatnonsense shouldbefun.”
Giolaughed.“Or wecouldjustpaythefucker off.”
Johnscowled.“BribingpeoplewasoneofthereasonsIspentthreeyearsbehindbarsinsteadof theoneyear itwouldhavebeen, Zio. ”
“Yeah,”Giosaid,wincing.“You’reright.Better toletitlie.”
Attemptedbriberyofofficialstodropthechargeshefaced.Possessionofanunregistered weapon.Discharginganunregisteredweapon.Assaultonapoliceofficer.Actually, several police officers.
Thechargeshadrackeduponeafter theother onJohn.Beforeheknew it,afive-year term slammeddownonhimwiththebangofajudge’sgavel.Notevenhisfamily’smoney,status,or connectionshadbeenabletogethimoutofthatone.
Johnwasprettysurehisfather anduncle,Dante,hadabitofahandinitall.ToLucian,Johnwas outofcontrol.Or rather,outofhisfather’scontrol.Hedidn’talwaysfollow therules.Helikedtodo thingshisway,whichwasn’talwaystheMarcelloway.
Wherever Johnwent,troubleusuallyfollowed.
Lucianhadsaidmorethanoncethatitwastimefor Johntogrow thefuckup.Johnsupposedhe finallyhad,inaway.
Hejustwishedhisfather hadn’tlethimtakeafive-year raptogethisheadstraightenedout. Thankfully,Johnservedhistimeinthreeyearswithgoodbehavior andprobationfor theforeseeable future,butitstill stunklikeshitnomatter whichwayhelookedatit.
“Hey,”Giosaid.
Johnfell outofhistroubledthoughtsandgavehisuncletheattentionandrespecttheman deserved.
ThatwastheMarcelloway. ItwasaruleJohndidn’tmindfollowing. Respectandhonor. Always.
“What?”Johnasked.
“Whatdoyouwanttodorightnow?”
“We’vegotapartytomakeitto,don’twe?”
“Fashionablylateisthethingor soIhear,”Gioreplied.“Justtell mesomethingyou’dliketodo, John.”
“Abeer.I’dliketohaveabeer.”
Giochuckled.“Areyousupposedtowith ”
“It’sfine.Onewon’tkill me.”
“IthinkwecanmanagethatwithoutDantesendingpeopleoutlookingfor us.”
Johnfrownedatthementionofhisuncle...andboss.“It’smyfirstdayout.Areyouseriously urgingmetoirkDante?Dante,whohasashorter fusethanevenIdo?”
Theolder DanteMarcellogotthelesstolerabletobullshitheseemedtobe.Johnwassmart enoughtoknow thathisuncle,theDonoftheMarcelloCosaNostra,wouldkickhisassfirstandthen askquestionslater ifneedbe.
Giosmiled.“It’snothimyoushouldbeworriedabout.”
“Oh?”
“No.Worryaboutwhenyour mother getsher handsonyoufor notcallingher for threemonths.” Shit.
Family first, John. Always.
Hisfather’swordswereamantraJohncouldn’tforget.
John’smother,Jordyn,hadgottenprogressivelymoreconcernedthecloser hisreleasedate loomed.Shevoicedher worriesabouthisrelease,andapossiblerelapseintoanother oneofhis episodesenoughthatitstartedtograteonJohn’snerves.Hisfocuswassimplygettingoutofprison andwhathewasgoingtodoafter hewasout.Todothat,hehadputablockofsortsbetweenhimand hismother.
Itprobablywasn’ttherightthingtodo.
“Maybeweshouldstopataflower shoponthewaytoTuxedoPark,”Johnmurmured.
Gionodded.“Maybeweshould.”
“Andthejewelrystore.”
“Now you’regettingit,man.Luciantaughtyouwell,regardlessofwhatyouthink.”
Johnlaughed.“Iknow mymother worriesbecauseshelovesme.”
“But?”
“Shesuffocatesme,”Johnadmitted.“I’manadult,notachild.SheactslikeI’mseventeenand notthirty.Shestill thinksI’maboy.”
“For therecord,all mothersseetheir childrenastheir babies.Jordynisn’taspecial case. Ceceliastill thinksshehastofixmydamnedtieifit’scrooked.”
“Youknow it’snotthesame.”
Giosighedheavily.“Or maybeyoujustdon’tunderstandyour mother andfather,John.”
“IthinkIdo.”
“Doyou?Theyalmostlostyoutwice.Haveyouever thoughtthatlettingyougotoofar ahead wheretheycan’treachmakesthemfeel suffocated?Thatbeingunabletokeepyouclosetakesaway thesecuritytheyhave?”
Johndidn’tanswer hisuncle,butheknew Giovanni hadagoodpoint.Whenhewasjustababy, hisaunt,Catrina,hadbeeninvolvedwithacartel thathadtakenJohnasawaytodraw Catrinaout. He’dnearlylosthislife,ashadhisfather,uncles,andauntwhenthey’dmadetheattempttosavehim.
Clearly,hisfamilywonthatbattle.
TheMarcellosalwayswon.
AndthenJohn’sfirstepisodehadhappenedwhenhewasseventeen.Intheprocessoflosing himselfinthemanicchaosofhisbrain,andthetorrentofhisuncontrollable,rashdecisionsthatled himtoabadplace,henearlydiedagain.Self-medicating,livingfast,andalmostdyingyoung.
Hemightaswell havebeenawalkingcliché.
Excepthewasn’t.
Hislifewasreal,andsowasthemanicbipolar disorder hehadbeendiagnosedwithat seventeen,andthenseverelyfailedtomanageasanadult.
“John,”Giovanni saidquietly.“I’dlikeananswer.”
“How closedidmyfather keepmewhenheletmebecartedofftoprisonfor threeyears?”
“Youdidn’tgiveLucianachoice.Youwererunningcrazy,John,doingstupidshit.Thefaster you ran,themorefrenziedyoubecame.Youwererefusingtoworkwithyour father or thepeoplesetup for you.Onmorethanoneoccasion,youputeveryoneinterriblesituationsthatcouldhavecostusall alot.Youwereself-medicatingbetweenchemicalsandprescriptions. Cristo,John,youwentmissing for twoweeks!”
Hehad.
Hehaddoneall ofthat.
“IthoughtIhaditunder control,”Johnsaid.
“Thatwasyour firstmistakebecauseclearlyyouwerelost.Everybodywastryingtohelpyou, butyoujustkeptpushingusawayuntil wecouldn’tevenseeyouanymore.”
Notonewordwasalie.
Johnwouldn’tdenyit.
Hislastmanicepisodehadbegunshortlyafter histwenty-sixthbirthday,andthecyclesofthe disorder wentonfor weeksatatime,andlastedfor over ayear.Italmostmirroredhisfirstepisode fromhisteenagedyearswhenhisfamilyhadfinallygottenadiagnosisfor whatwaswronginsidehis head.
Chemical imbalances.
Bipolar.
John’sbiggestmistakebackthenwasthinkinghecouldmanagehismental healthwithout medications.Thosepillslabeledhimcrazy.Hedidn’tneedthem.Hewaswrong,andthelonger he waswithoutthemthemoremanichebecameinhisdailylife.He’dgofromstealingbecauseofthe rush,fightingbecauseofthehigh,usingsubstancestomanagethehighsandthelows,tofuckingany femalewithinarm’sreachjusttofeel.
Whenhewasinahighcycleofthemania,he’dbeupfor days,runningnon-stop,andobsessive toanextreme.Whenthelowsofthecyclehit,hewoulddoanythingjusttogetoutofit,ifhecould evenmanagetofunction.
Yeah,he’dlostthatbattlewithabang.
Literally.
Hisparentshadn’tbeenabletostepinliketheyhadwhenhewasateenbecausehewasanadult thesecondtimearound.WhenhisepisodecametoaheadandJohnfinallyhitbottom,henearlykilled hiscousin,Andino,duringanargumentover territoryandmenonthestreets.Itshouldhavebeena simplediscussionbetweenCapos.Johnwasfar toolostinhisownnonsensetofullyunderstandwhat hewasdoingwhenhepulledthatgunonhiscousininabusyrestaurant.
How Giowasevensittinginacar withJohnafter whathe’dalmostdonetotheman’sson,John
didn’tunderstand.
Well,truthfully,hedidknow how.
Familyfirst.
“I’mgood,”Johnsaidfirmly.
“Now,”Gioagreed.
Johndecidedrightthenandtheretoendtheconversation.Hedidn’twanttotalkabouthismental healthwithhisuncle,or anyonefor thatmatter.Hehadafuckingdoctor for thatshit.Or he’dhad before.
“Dropit, Zio,”Johnsaid.
“Youbroughtitupfirst.”
“Andnow I’mdone.”
Gioglaredatthehighwaytheyweredrivingdown.“Your crew hasbeendividedbetweenafew ofthefamilyCapos.”
“Better thanDantehandingmypositionandmenofftosomeoneelseentirely.”
“Youcouldsaythat.”
Oh,for fuck’ssake.
Johncouldhear thehesitanceinhisuncle’stone,whichwouldn’tleadtoanythinggood.
“Whatnow?”hedemanded.
Giorappedhisfingerstotheleather-boundsteeringwheel.“Justtobesurethatyou’renotgoing tohavearelapsethemomentyou’reoutandfreetodoyour ownthing,DanteandLuciandecidedthat itwouldbebetter ifyouworkedalongsideAndinoandTimothywiththeir crewsfor awhile.”
Anger surgedthroughJohnlikehehadn’tfeltinalongtime.Itwasgood.Sofuckinggood.Likea shotofadrenalinestraighttohisbloodstream.
Butthatfeelingwasalsoaddictiveandbadfor him.Badfor hismaniaandbadfor thebipolar currentsofhisemotionsthathefoughtwithdaily.Hewasn’tthatcrazy,outofcontrol,unmanageable person.Hegotthathisbehavior andissueshadputhisfamilyand la famiglia throughhell,buthewas good.
Wasn’the?
Now?
Didhisfamilynottrusthim?
Christ.
Itpissedhimoffevenmore.
“Justtobeclear,Idon’tgetasayhere,right?”Johnasked. Gioshrugged.“No,youdon’t.”
Becausethat’show CosaNostraworked,andhisfamilywasknee-deepinthatlifeandculture. Nobodycouldpossiblybegintounderstandtheir life.Withhisunclebeingtheheadbossofthe family,hisother uncleactingasDante’sconsigliere,andJohn’sownfather beingthefamily underboss,therewasnoescapingwhohewas.
Mafia.
Made.
CosaNostra.
Whenitcametofamilydecisions,especiallyonesmadeabouthim,Johndidn’tgetaboneinthe fight.Hisunclespulledrank,asdidhisfather. Rules.
Hislifewasdictated,surrounded,anddeterminedbyrules.
Johnstifledthefamiliar urgetopushbackagainstthewallsclosinginonhimagain.Theywere onlyinhisownmind,after all.
“There’ssomethingelseIhavetodothisweek,”Johnsaid,droppingtheconversation.Hedidn’t wanttofightwithhisuncleaboutsomethingthatneither ofthemcoulddoanythingaboutatthe moment.“Ishoulddoittomorrow,butIneedsomecontacts.”
Giocockedabrow andpassedJohnalook.“Whatisthat?”
“Ineedanew therapist.Onethatmyfather doesn’thaveonhispayroll.”
“John ”
“I’ll follow hisfuckingrulesandgivehimwhathewants,buthe’snothavingcontrol over that. Notnow.It’sbeenthreeyearssincemylastepisode.Givemeafuckingbreakhere.I’veearnedthat, Gio.”
“Youwerewrong,”Giosaidquietly.
“Aboutwhat?”
“Your father.Hedidgiveyouachoice,John.Youknow hedid.”
Johnforcedbackhisirritation.“Leaveitalone.”
“Hegaveyouachoice.Aninstitutiontogetyourselfcheckedoutandsettled,or timebehindbars. Youmadethechoice,John,notLucian.”
“I’mnotcrazy,”Johnsaid.
“Nooneever saidthat.”
Buttheymightaswell have.
“Puttingmeinaninstitutionwouldhavelabeledmeexactlythat.”
“Wejustwantedyouhealthy.”
“Iam.”
Giopassedhimanother look.“Let’shopeyoustaythatway.”
“Thanksfor that,asshole.”
“I’mjustbeingreal,John.Webothknow ifyoudon’tkeepmanagingthislikeyou’vebeenforced tofor thelastthreeyears,youcaneasilyrelapseintoanother episode.”
Johnknew that,butitstill madehisanger rear itsuglyhead.Hissavinggracewasbeingableto control itnow,whereashecouldn’tbefore.
“Bytheway,”Giosaidashepushedthegaspedal harder.
“What?”
“Happybirthday,John.”
AdropoftensioncrawleddownJohn’sspineashisunclepulleduptotheiron-wroughtgate.A long,twistydrivewayleduptoamansionwithtwowings,threefloors,apool,andaguesthouseout back.TheestaterestedonsixacresofpropertyinTuxedoPark.
TheMarcellofamilyhomewasmassive.
“Passcode,please,”aroboticvoicecommandedfromthespeaker Giowastalkinginto. “Seven,two,six,nine,five,five,”hisunclereplied.
“Pleasespeakyour nameclearlyfor voicerecognition.”
“Giovanni DavidMarcello.”
Thespeaker buzzedfor asplitsecondbeforethegateshudderedandbegantoopenautomatically. Giopulledthecar throughtheopeningthemomentthevehiclecouldfitthrough.Itnever failedto amazeJohnhow careful andprotectivetheir familywasaboutkeepingtheir privateliveshiddenfrom publicview.Heunderstood,ofcourse,butitwasstill amusing.
“Voicerecognition?”Johnasked.“WhendidAntonyhavethatputin?”
“Ayear ago.”
“Why?”
Giostilledinhisseat.“Justbecause,Isuppose.”
“Areyoubeingpurposelydifficult,or what?”
Quickly,Gioputthecar inparkatthemid-waypointonthedrivewaybetweenthegateandthe house.
“Heputitinbecausehe’snotyoung,John.He’seighty-seven,andhedoesn’tliketobereminded ofthethingshe’snotcapableofdoingathisage.He’snotquickonhisfeet,hiseyesightisterrible, andhewantshiswifetofeel safe.”
“Whathappenedtotheguardhehad?”
“You’ll see,”Giomutteredasheputthecar indriveagain.“Justdon’tsayanythingtohimabout hisageor thechanges.ItbothershimandthenCeceliagetspissy.”
“Igotit.”
“Good.”
JohnfoundtheguardinquestionthemomentthefrontentrancetotheMarcellohomewasinfull view.Dressedinall black,themanrestedbesideadarksedanwithacigaretteinonehandandagun athiswaist.Johnknew themanhadtobetheguardbecausenooneelsewaspermittedtosmokein frontoftheMarcellohome.Theyhadareasdesignatedfor thatsortofthing.
“He’skeepinghimcloser,”Johnnoted.
“Yeah.”
“Anyparticular reasonwhy?”
Gioshrugged.“Youcannever betoosafe.”
Whydidn’tJohnbelievethat?
“Hey,”Giosaidquietly. Johngavehisunclealook.“Hmm?”
“Yougood?”
“Yeah.”
Histensionwasstill there,dancinghandinhandwithhisanxiety.Threeyearsinlock-upwasa longtimetobegone.How manythingshadchangedsincehe’dwenttoprison?How muchmore distancehadheforcedbetweenhimandhisfamilyinthattime?
Gioturnedthecar offandputhishandonthedoor handle.“For therecord,John…”
“Whataboutit?”
“Ithoughtyoumadetherightchoicethreeyearsago.”
John’sbrow furrowed.“Idon’tknow whatyoumean.”
“Whenyour father bribedthejudgewiththeoptionofaninstitutionor jail time.Ithoughtyou madetherightchoice.”
Well,thatwasnotwhatJohnexpectedtohear.
“Whyisthat?”
“Becausedespitehow irrational everythingyouweredoingseemedtobe,Idon’tbelievefor
secondthatanyhospital inthecountrywouldhavesortedyououtlikeprisondid.Thirtydaysinan institutionwithacoupleoftherapists,new meds,andlittleelsewasn’twhatyouneeded.Timewas whatyouneeded,John.Youstill gotthedoctors,yougotthemeds,butyoualsogotthebreak.You madetherightchoice.”
Johnletoutaslow breath.“Whoelsefeelsthatway?”
Giolaughed.“Iknow whatyou’reaskingwithoutoutrightaskingit.” “So?”
“Your mother isprobablyatthefrontdoor aboutreadytoblow itdownandcomeouthere.”
Johnnodded,knowinghisunclewasn’tgoingtoanswer hisquestion.“Ibetter getmyassinthe housebeforeshecomesout.”
“Yeah,probably.Ibetyour father iswaiting,too.”
“Wehaven’ttalkedalotsinceIwentin.”
“All youhadtodowaspickupthephone,John.”
Johnglancedatthemansion.“Iknow.”
“Lucianthinksyoumadetherightchoicefor you.Incaseyouwerewondering.” “Iwasn’t.”
“Lyingisaterriblehabit,Johnathan.” Itwas.
ButJohnwastoodamnedgoodatit.
“Oh, il mio ragazzo!”
Johnbarelyheardthewordscomeoutofhismother’smouthbeforehewasengulfedintinyarms thatsqueezedhimnearlytodeath.For suchatinything,hismother wasstrongashell.Sheliterally knockedhimoffbalanceforcingthembothtospininahalfcircle,sotheywerefacingthefrontdoor andnotthelargeentrywaylikebefore.
“Hey,Ma,”Johnsaid,lettingher crushhimfor all shewasworth.
Giogrinnedashestrolledonby.
Asshole.
HecouldhavehelpedJohnalittle.Physical expressionsofemotionsandJohnhadnever mixed well together.Notunlesshewastheonedoingtheexpressing.Andwhenhephysicallyexpressed emotions,itusuallynever endedwell for anyoneinvolved.Mushy,loveynonsensedidn’tdovery damnedmuchfor him,either.
Jordynsqueezedher sonharder.“Imissedyou.”
“Yousaw meafew monthsago,Ma.”
“So?”
JohnbentdownwhenJordynfinallyloosenedher griparoundhischestandgavehismother a quickkisstothecheek.“Sonothing,Ma.Imissedyou,too.”
Jordyn’sfacelitupwithhappiness.
GuiltstabbedatJohn’sinsides.
Hedidn’tverballyexpresshisfeelingsverywell,either.Hefeltalotofshit,andthatwasjust
theby-productofhisdisorder.Processing,understanding,andcommunicatinghisinner thoughtsand emotionswasdifficult.Ithadclearlybeentoolongsincehe’dgivenanyaffectiontohismother ifher joyover asimpleadmissionwasanyindication.
“Lilianacouldn’tmakeitdownfromChicagowithJoseph,”Jordynsaidasshefiddledwith John’scrookedtie.“Shetried,butshecouldn’tgetoutoftheshiftsatthehospital.”
Liliana,John’syounger sister,hadmarriedamaninvolvedwiththeChicagoOutfit.Johnbarely rememberedthewedding,ashe’dbeenrightinthethickofhismanicepisode.
“Butshe’scomingdownnextmonth,”Jordynadded.
“Lucia?”Johnasked.
“She’shere,”hismother saidabouthisyoungestsister.
“AndCella?”
John’sother sister,alsomarriedbuttoamanwhowasunaffiliatedtothemob,hadnever been veryclosetohim.Hewouldn’tbesurprisedifshehadn’tshownupfor hiswelcome-home-slashbirthdayparty.
“She’shere,sneakingfoodwhileeveryoneelsewaitstoeat,”cameadarker,familiar voicefrom behindJohn.
Jordyntookastepbackfromher son.Johnspunonhisheel onlytocomefacetofacewithhis father.
For John,itwaslikelookinginanagingmirror.Ashegrew up,almosteveryoneheknew feltthe needtopointouthow muchheresembledhisfather.Atwin,theysaid.Hazel eyesthatmatchedJohn’s lookedhimupanddown.Hisfather smiledalittle,makingthesharplinesofhisfeaturessoften briefly.Evenatsixty,LucianMarcellostoodtall andstraight,matchingJohn’sheightatsixfeet,three inchestall.Luciancommandedaroomwithhisno-nonsensedemeanor andhisbluntattitude.He couldalsobeintimidatingwithhisquietnessandwatchful eye.
“Son,”Luciangreeted.
“Hey,”Johnreplied.
“Youlookgood.”
“Ihopeso.”
“Seemsprisonhasitsbenefits,hmm?”
Johnletthecommentroll offhisshoulders,knowinghisfather hadn’tmeantitasaninsult.“I thinkitdidfor me.”
“How wasthedrive?”
“Long,”Johnanswered. Lucianchuckled.“WithGio,anydriveislong.” “Hetalksalot.”
“Thathedoes.”Lucianjerkedathumbover hisshoulder.“AsIsaid,Cellaishereandsneaking food.We’relettingitgowhatwiththepregnancyandall.Shehastofeedthebaby.”
Johnclearedhisthroat.“Ididn’tknow shewaspregnant.”
“Phoneswork,John,eveninprison.” Ouch.
Thatcommentdidn’troll offlikethefirstonedid.
“Lucian,”Jordynsaid,comingtostandbesideher son.“Don’t.”
Lucian’sjaw tightenedbeforehefrowned.“Mi scusi,I’msorry.Thatwasoutofline,son.I’m happyyou’rehome.Weall are.”
Johnwishedhecouldsaythesame,butfor asplitsecondhewasbacktofeelingliketheoutsider
inhisfamilyagain.Nooneinparticular madehimfeel thatwaydirectly,butthedisconnecthe experiencedwithhisownfather madeeveryoneelseseemdistant,too.
“John!”
Theshoutofhisnamedrew John’sattentionawayfromLucian. Johnstiffenedwhenhiscousin,Andino,movedpasthisunclewithawidegrin.Andinostood toe-to-toewithJohn.BeforetheincidentthatlandedJohninprisonandnearlytookAndino’slife,the twocousinshadbeeninseparable.
Ride or die,their familysaid.Becausethetwocousinsalwaysfoundtroubletogether.Theyhad alwaysbeenclose,bestfriendseven,andonemistakeruineditall.
Attwenty-eight,AndinowastheclosestcousininrelationtohisownagethatJohnhad.
“Jordyn,”Luciansaidwithapointedlookinhiswife’sdirection,“…whydon’twegolet everyoneknow thatthemanofthehour hasarrived.”
“Sure,”Jordynreplied.
Withasqueezeofher handonJohn’sarm,hisparentsdisappeared. “It’sgoodtoseeyou,man,”Andinosaid.
Johnsmirked.“Andyou, cugino. ”
AndinogrinnedattheItalianwordfor cousin.“Iwouldhavemadethetripuptoseeyou,butI wasn’tsureifthatwasgoodfor you.”
“Iwouldn’thaveturnedyouaway,Andi.” Andinoheldoutahand.
Johnpasseditawaryglance.
“John?”Andinoasked. “Yeah?”
“We’regood,man.”
Justlikethat,threewordsrippedawaytheconcernJohnhadabouthisfriendshipwithAndino. “Arewe?”Johnasked. Andinodidn’tdrophishand.“Familyfirst,John.”
Johnshookhiscousin’shand.Homestartedtofeel alittlemorereal.ThedistancekeepingJohn andhisemotional attachmentstohisfamilyatbaybegantoclose. “Ihopeyoudon’tmindacrowd,”Andinosaid. Johncockedabrow.“Inever do.”
“Good,becausethewholedamncitymightaswell beheretowelcomeyouhome.” “Seriously?”
“Openinvitationtoanyonein la famiglia,man,”Andinosaid,chuckling.“Idon’tthinkanyone refusedit.”
Huh.
“Ihavetostartlookingfor aplace,”Johnsaid. Andinotookadragoffhiscigarette,andeyedhiscompanionintheLexus.“Itoldyouthatitwas all rightifyoustayedwithmefor abit.”
“Ilikebeingalone,Andi.It’snotaboutyou.”
“Fine.You’veonlybeenhomeacoupleofdays,John.Giveitabitoftime.You’vegotalotof adjustmenttodo.Workintoitall slowly.Youdon’thavetodoitall atonce.”
Johndisagreed.Hewantedtogetbacktohisoldroutineofthingsasquicklyashepossibly could.Partofthatwasnotbeingunder hiscousin’swatchall ofthedamnedtime.Itwasn’tAndino’s faultbecausethemanwasjustfollowingorders.ButJohnfeltsuffocatedall thesame.
“Istill needtofindmyownplace.”
Andinotossedhisnearlyfinishedcigaretteoutofthewindow.“Wecandothat.” “Good.”
“Sohey,I’vegottohandlesomebusinessover atoneofmyrestaurants.Areyouinterestedin comingor doyouhavethingstodo?”
Johnshrugged.“I’vegotshittodo.”
“I’mnotgivingyoumycar.”
Laughing,Johnsaid,“Idon’tneedit,asshole.”
Buthedidneedtogethisownandsoon.Itwasintheworks.
“I’ll takethebus,”Johnadded.“Thewarehouseisonlyacoupleofblocksfromhere.”
“Careful andclean,right?”
Johnglowered.“Backoff.”
“I’mjustmakingsure.”
“It’sontheup.It’syour goddamnguysI’mworkingwith.”
“Iknow,”Andinosaid.“Butnotall ofthosefoolsaregood,either.I’ll seeyoulater.”
JohnclimbedoutoftheLexuswithoutanother wordtohiscousin.AsAndinopulledawayfrom thesideoftheroad,Johnstrolleddownthesidewalktowherethebusstopwasandwaited.Lessthan tenminuteslater,abusheadingstraightintotheheartofHell’sKitchenpulledover,andJohnstepped inthevehicle.
Pullingoutaphonefromhispocket,Johndialedhisfather’scell phonenumber ashewalked towardthebackofthebuswithhiseyesontheground.
“Ciao,”LuciansaidwhenhepickedupJohn’scall.
“Hey,Dad.”
“John.”
“I’mnotgoingtomakeitfor dinner.GiveMamyapologies.”
Luciansighedheavily.“Whynot?”
“BusinessintheKitchen.”
Technically,itwasalie.Hedidn’thavetoworktodayifhedidn’twantto,butheneeded somethingtodoother thanbeunder hiscousin’swatch.Johnsimplydidn’twanttogothroughanother roundwithhisparentsandtheir concerns.Heneededspaceandtimetobreathe.Heneededtobehis ownpersonwithouteveryoneelse’sworriesandinfluence.
Hisparentsdidn’tunderstand.
“Breakfasttomorrow then,”Luciansaid.
“I ”
“It’snotarequest,John,”hisfather cutinharshly.“Whenyouflakeonyour mother,Iexpectyou tomakeituptoher.”
“Fine,tomorrow.”
“Good.”
Lucianhungupthecall beforeJohncould.
Shovinghisphoneinhispocket,Johntookthefirstseathecould.Glancingupfromhisclenched handsthatrestedinhislap,hecameface-to-facewithsapphireeyes.
Johnblinked.
Thewomansmiled.
Shehadatabletinher handsandoneearbudinher ear.Amessenger bagrestedather feet, drawingJohn’sgazedowntotheleather bootsshewore.Skinnyjeansshowcasedthelengthofher legsandthecurveofher hips.Hedidn’trecognizeher,butsomethingabouther wasfamiliar.
Tuckingastrandofher caramel-tonedcurlsbehindher ear,thewomanmethisgazeagain.His mouthwentdryandhedidn’thavethefirstclueofwhy.Maybeitwasbecausehe’dspentthreeyears inprison,andtheonlyfemaleshe’dhadcontactwithsincehegotoutwerefamily.
Or maybeitwasbecausethegirl wasfuckingbeautiful.
Everypartofhimknew it.
“Hi,”shesaid,still smiling.
“Hi.”Johngrinnedback.“JohnathanMarcello.”
“The JohnathanMarcello?”
Johnchuckled.“There’sonlyonealiveinthiscity,asfar asIknow.”
Thewoman’ssmileturnedwider.“Siena.”
“LikethecityinItaly?”
“Justlikethat,”shereplied.
“Alastname?”Johnasked.
“Calabrese.It’sverynicetomeetyou,John.”
Shit.
Johnathan’seyeswidened,andSienagrinnedatthesight.Surpriselookedgoodontheman.His confidentsmileearlier hadsharpenedhisstrongjaw andchiseledcheekbones,andmadeher think, I bet he could kill a woman with that smile. Stop her heart with a look, and restart it with a wink. Thesurprise,though?
Thattookhissexiness,andturneditalmostboyishinablink.
“Youdidn’tknow whoIwas?”Sienaasked.
“Marcellosdon’ttendto…mixalotofbusinesswiththeCalabresefamily.”Johnathan’s confidentgrintookover oncemore,andhisgazetraveledover her form.“YoumustbeMatteo’s daughter.”
“Oneofafew,”shereplied.
Johnathancockedabrow.“Ionlyknow theCalabresebosstohaveone.”
“Thethreeillegitimateonesdon’tgetmuchrecognitioninthefamily.”
Acrossfromher onthebus,Johnathanclearedhisthroat.
“Ah,Isee,”hesaid.
Sowasthewayoftheir life.
Nobodyever saidbeinga principessa della mafia wasaneasything.Infact,itwasoneofthe mostsuffocatingthingstobe.All therulesandexpectationsthatnever ended.HavingaCosaNostra bossfor afather andhigh-rankingbrothers leftayoungwomanlikeSienaunder their control and demands.
Shewasusedtoit,now.
Twenty-fiveyearsdealingwithitall haddonethattoher. “KindofstrangetoseeaCaporidingonacitybus,”Sienasaid.
“Andwhatdoyouknow aboutCapos, donna?”
Thewayhecalledher woman,andhishazel gazedrifteddownover her jean-cladlegslefta heavyfeelingthumpinginher throat.Sienawasusedtomenstaring abyproductofhavingtaken after her exceptionallybeautiful,butcold,mother.Shewasn’t,however,usedtoamanlikeJohnathan doingit.
Amanconnectedtothemafia.Onethatmightfacepunishmentfromher father or brothersfor disrespectingtheir familynamebytreatingoneoftheir womeninanywaythatwasn’thonestand pure.
Likeshewassomeangel. Or asaint.
Sienawas none ofthosethings.
ShequitelikedthewayJohnathanwaslookingather. “Well?”Johnathanasked.“Whatdoyouknow aboutthebusiness,huh?” Alot.
Morethanheprobablythoughtshedid.
Sienasimplysaid,“DoyouthinkIshouldn’tknow whoiswhowhenitcomestotheThree FamiliesinNew York?Wouldn’tthatbealittledumbofme,consideringwhomyfather isandall?” “Fair enough.”
Shementallypattedherselfonthebackfor dodgingthatbullet.After all,onewhodealtinthe businessdidnotdiscussthebusiness.
Itwasarule.
Siena’sfather repeatedittoher alittlemoreoftenthanhedidtoeveryoneelse.Shefiguredthat wasbecauseshewasawoman,andnomademaninthemafiawantedother Mafiosi toknow a womanwashandlingbusiness. Especially…numbers.
“Isn’titalwaysblackcars,andtenunder thespeedlimitfor Capos?”Sienaasked.
“For some,maybe.”Johnathanchuckled.“Mycar isstill inshippingsomewherebetweenthe RustBeltandhere.”
“Butisitblack?”sheasked.
Johnathansmirked.“Possibly.”
“Anddoyoudrivetenunder thelimit?” “Possibly.”
“Iknew it,”Sienasaid,winking.“So,for now you’reslummingitonabus,then?”
“Idon’tmindthebus.Igettobearoundpeoplewithoutactuallyengagingwithpeople.”
Sienaliftedasingleeyebrow.“Isthatashotatme Ishouldn’tbeengagingyou,or something?”
Johnathan’sgrindeepened,andhelookedher over oncemore.“Nah,Idon’tmindengagingyou, Siena.”
“It’sjustashamemylastnameisCalabrese,huh?”
Hewavedahand,andsaid,“Itiswhatitis.”
Johnathanlookedoutthebuswindow,andstayedsilentfor afew moments.Asthebusstoppedto letmorepeopleon,andafew off,SienatookthechancetotakeJohnathan’sprofilein.Alax,easy smile.Stronglinesshapedhisjaw andcheekbones.Asingledimpleinhisrightcheekpeekedout whenever hisgrindeepened.Hisbottomlipwasslightlyfuller thanhistop,andhisolivecomplexion spokeofhisItalianbloodline.
Hehadtobeatleastsix-foot-three,or taller whenstandingup.Theblacksuitheworelookedcut perfectlytohisform alean,yetfit,form.ThediamondincrustedRolexononewrist,aleather band embossedwithsomethingontheother,andblackleather shoesgavecredencetothewealththe Marcellofamilyhad.
EverythingaboutJohnathanscreamedhandsome,badnews,andentirelyinterestingtoSiena.His goodlookscertainlycouldn’tbedenied,andhislastname withoutneedinghimtoconfirmor deny wasenoughtotell her hewasprobablymixedupin la famiglia.
Theinterestingbit,though,wasalittleharder toexplain.
Other thanhow helookedather?
Somethingdifferentfromhow hisdarkgrinmadeher pulsequicken?
MaybeitwasbecausetheMarcellofamilykindoffeltlikeanenigmatoher.Sheknew theywere real,andheardenoughaboutthemtorespecthow theycontrolledNew York.Yet,atthesametime,the Marcelloswerealsoillusive.Acrimeorganizationjustlikeher father’s,butoneher familyonly whisperedaboutover theyears.
Johnathanwas,essentially,onebigmystery.
Justlikehisfamily.
Straight,thickbrowsgavehimadisinterestedexpression,exceptwhenheturnedhishazel gaze onher.Thecool,calmdemeanor ofJohnathanMarcellowasshatteredwhensomeonegotagoodlook athiseyes awild,lostmanstaredback.
Johnathanglancedawayfromthewindow.HecaughtSienastaringathimlikeafoolishgirl,but shedidn’tlookaway.
“Yes?”heasked.
Lyingreallywasn’ther forte. Shewasn’tverygoodatit.
“You’reveryhandsome,Johnathan,”shesaid. Thosedarkeyesofhisflashedwithsomethingunknownbeforehesaid,“Iprefer John.” “John.”
“Yeah.”
“WhatIsaidremainsthesame,John.”
Sienawasnotusuallysobold.DaringstatementslikethosetoamanlikeJohnathancould possiblygether introuble,all thingsconsidered. Still,shesaidit.
Ithadtobesaid.
Hearchedabrow.“Whydidyoucall me the JohnathanMarcelloearlier?” Sienaclearedher throat.“You’realittleinfamous,aren’tyou?” “Me?”
“All theMarcellos,really.”
Johnathannodded.“Isuppose.”
Then,thebuscametoanother slow stop.Johnathanglancedoutthewindow,andcussedbefore hestoodup.Hisbackwasalreadyturnedtoher,andhewasheadingfor thedoor whenhelooked backover hisshoulder.
All over again,withonesinglelook,Siena’sheartthumpedhardinher throat.Arhythmthat intriguedandfrightenedher.
How didhedothatbyonlystaring?
Whycouldn’tshecontrol her ownbody?
“MaybeI’ll seeyouaround, bella. ” Sienastilled.
He’dcalledher beautiful. “Maybe,”sheagreed. Johnathandidn’thear her. Hehadalreadyexitedthebus.
“You’relate.”
Matteo’svoiceboomedover thebustlingBrooklynrestaurant.Siena’sfather wasalotofthings, butoverwhelmingwashighestonthelist.Hetoweredover her mother whostoodnexttohimatthe table,andwaswideenoughthatSiena’sarmscouldn’treachall thewayaroundhimwhenshehugged him.
“Trafficwasbad,”Sienatoldhim.“Hi,Dad.”
Matteoscowledather whenshesteppedback.“Takingthebusagain?”
“Ilikethebus.It’s…responsible.”
And it gives me a little less time with you. Shedidn’taddthatlastpartoutloud.
Sienaknew better.
“Youhaveabrandnew Lexussittinginyour apartment’slot,”her father said,shakinghishead full ofdarkbrownhair,althoughithadstartedtothinabitatthetop.Hedidn’tlikefor anyoneto pointitout.“Iboughtyouthatcar for youtodoyour business,andgettoplaces on time,Siena.”
“Oh,leaveher alone,Matteo.So,shelikesthebus,whocares?”
Siena’smother Coraline smiledsweetlyather daughter.Shereturnedthesmile,buthers wasn’tashonestor wide.
Sure,shelovedher parents.
Theyhadgivenher life,after all.
Thetwowerestill …difficult.Sienahadgrownupastheafterthoughtinher parents’lives.Her brothers,KevandDarren,hadalwaystakencenter stagewithMatteoandCoraline.Siena,onthe other hand,hadsimplybeengivendirectionandrestrictions.Rulesshewasmeanttofollow withno questionsasked,andasetpathinlifechosenbythesetwopeopleinfrontofher.
Itcertainlylefther withabitter taste.
“Becauseridingabuswiththemoneyshemakesisundignified,”Matteosaid.
“Or economicallyandfiscallysmart,”Sienaputin.
Matteopassedher alook,andnarrowedhisgaze.“No,Itoldyouwhatitis.”
Yes,undignified.
Heavenforbidsheridethebuswiththerestofthelowlypeople.Shemightcatchtheir poor peoplecooties,or something.
Sienahadall shecoulddonottoroll her damneyes.Matteowouldn’tlikethat,either.Respect neededtobeshownatall timeswhenitcametoher father.Heexpectednothinglessfromhis children.
Atleastthatwasonethingshehadincommonwithher brotherswheretheir father was concerned.Matteotreatedthemall equallyinthatrespect.Oneoftheonlyfuckingthings.
“Sit,sit,”her father demandedwithawaveatthetable.
Matteodidn’tbother holdingoutachair for Siena,buthedidfor hiswife.Sienapulledher own chair out,andsatdown.Shewashopingthislunchwithher parentswouldbeover quicklyenough becauseshehadamillionother thingsshe’drather bedoing.
CoralinereachedacrossthetabletotapthenapkininfrontofSiena.“You’ll bestayingawhile actlikeit,sweetheart.”
Damn.
Sienapickedupthenapkin,flickeditopen,andsetitonher lap.Atleasttheplacehaddecent food,andthatwouldmakethislunchslightlymorebearable.For now,anyway.
Matteowavedatawaiter whowashandlinganother table.Atthesightofher father gesturingfor him,themaninstantlyleftthecouplewhosecoffeeswerenotyetpoured,andcametheir way.
SowasthewayofMatteoCalabrese.
Hedidnotliketowait,or beleftwaiting.
Hedidnotliketobeignored.
Hewaskingoftheroom,always.
Luckilyfor her father,Matteoownedthisparticular restaurant.Actually,heownedquiteafew businesses,andsodidSiena’solder brothers.Betweenrestaurants,clubs,usedcar dealerships,a
coupleofbarber shops,pizzajoints,alaundrymat,andapubinManhattan,theyhadmorebusinesses thantheyknew whattodowith.
Noneofthemeninher familyseemedparticularlygoodwithnumbersunlessitincludedcounting uptheir profitsfor themonth.Taxeswereathingtobeavoidedatall costs.Everysinglenickel and dimeneededaccountedfor attheendoftheday.
Givenhow theyusedtheir legal businessestohidetheir illegal profitsfromthecriminal sideof their lives,her father andbrothersneededsomeonegoodwithnumbers.Someonewhocouldscrub booksclean,andhidedirtycash.
Theyneededher.
Sienawas…exceptional withnumbers.Shecouldtakeabusiness’sbooks,hideacoupleof hundredgrandindirtymoneythroughdifferentreceivablesaccounts,andpushthecleanedmoney straightouttheother end.
Itwastheonethingshecoulddothather brotherscouldnot.ItwastheonlyreasonwhySiena suspectedher father hadn’ttriedtoforceher intosomearrangedmarriagetogettheresponsibilityof her offhishands.
After all,agirl wasonlyuseful ifshewasn’tuseless.
Withoutnumbers…withouther talentofscrubbingbooksfor her father’sCosaNostra,that’sall Sienawouldbe.Entirelyuselesstothemeninher family.
Itgaveher alittlebitofcontrol.Shehadnoproblemsrunningwithiteverychanceshecould.It wasn’ther faultifMatteoandher brotherscouldn’tseethatshewasmanipulatingthemsometimesto getwhatshewanted.
“Mr.Calabrese,”thewaiter saidwithasmile.“Goodafternoon,sir.”
“Yes,yes,I’mreadytoorder now.”
“Pen’sready,sir.”
Likealways,Matteoorderedfor himself,hiswife,andSiena.Hadher brothersbeenthere,he wouldhaveorderedfor them,too.
Anythingher father couldcontrol,hedid.Evenifitwassomethingassimpleaswhattheywanted toeatfor lunch.
“Shoo,”Matteotoldthewaiter withaflickofhiswrist.“I’mhungry.”
“Yes,sir.”
Theyoungman whodidn’tlookoldenoughtobeservingliquor,likely dartedoff,andheaded rightfor thekitchen.Hedidn’tevengobacktothetablewherethecouplewasstill waitingwiththeir still-emptycoffeecups.
“New boy,”MatteotoldCoraline.“Ilikehimsofar.”
“Heseemsquiet,”her mother agreed.
“For now.”
Then,Matteoturnedhisdarkeyesonthephonehehadpulledfromhisinner jacketpocket.Just likethat,CoralineandSienaweredismissedfromtheman’sattention.Coralinedidn’treallyseemall thatbothered,asshesimplystaredoutthewindow atthepassersbyonthestreet.
Sienawasnever moreawareofhow muchshetookafter her mother inappearanceandbehavior thaninthatmoment.Sure,her slynessandattitudecamefromher father,nottomentionher determinationtogetshitdone. Therest?
All her mom.
Fromthebluesofher wideeyes,tothecaramel ofher long,wavyhair.Standingsidebyside,the
twoonlyreachedfive-foot-seveninfour-inchheels.Their full lipscurvedthesamewaywhenthey smiled,or smirked,andeventhebuttonnosewascomplimentsofher mother’sdelicatefeatures.
Thephysical appearancewasaboutasfar asitwent,though.
Coralinewasquiet,andquicktobendtothewhimsofthemenaroundher.Sienawasfar more likelytofindawayoutofit,or speakloudlyenoughfor someonetolisten.
Her mother washappyinher place,spoiledandcontent.Shenever battedaneyeatthethree daughtersher husbandfatheredwithamistressover theperiodoftwentyyears,or thefactthat mistresslivedinabigger housethanshedid.
Sienawasnotthekindofwomantostickher headinthesand. Shejustcouldn’t.
Shecertainlywasn’tgoingtoturnher cheek,andpretendlikethemeninher lifeweresomekind ofgood,godlycreatureswhogavebacktosociety,andattendedchurcheverySunday.Sure,theydid thosethings theyalsosolddrugs,launderedmoney,blackmailedanyonetheycould,andmurder was alwaysatthetopofsomeone’sto-dolist.
Coralinecouldpretendall shewantedabouther family,andliveinher gildedcageofclouds wherethebadstuffdidn’ttouchher.
Siena’sfeetwerestill firmlyplantedontheground. Shelikeditherebetter.
“Don’tpull thistardinessnonsenseonyour brother later,”Matteosaid.
Siena’sattentionwasbackonher father inablink.“Pardon?”
“Later you’reheadingover toKev’sclub,aren’tyou?You’vegotbookstoscrubfor him.” “Ofcourse.”
“Don’tbelateagain.It’srude,Siena.” “Iknow,Dad.Iwon’tbelate.”
Lies.
Shewouldmakesuretobelate.
Besides,shedidneedacoupleofnew bookstoputonher nightstand.Theoldbookshopacouple ofblocksawayfromher brother’sclubsoundedlikeagoodplacetogetlostinfor anhour or so. Ifshecoulddoit,andgetawaywithit,thenwhatwasstoppingher? ItwastheCalabreseway.
Sienathumbedthroughthebrandnew paperbackofaromanceshehadaskedtheoldshopkeeper toorder infor her well over amonthago.Sure,shehadane-reader andcouldhavepurchaseda digital copyinstantly,butshestill likedagoodoldpaperbackonceinawhile.
“How longareyougonnacaressthatbook,girly?”
SienagaveEugeneasmile.
Well intohisseventies,EugenehadbeensupplyingSiena’saddictiontoromanceandthrillers sinceshewasseventeenor so.Sometimes,shecameintheshopjusttohelphimrearrangeshelves,or unloadthenew releasesfor themonth.Hedidn’tneedtobeliftingthings,anyway.Hisagedface showedmorewrinkleswhenhesmiled,andtoldthestoryofhislife.
“I’mgoingtotouchitandloveitfor aslongasIwantto,thankyou,”shesaid,smilingsweetly. Eugenesighed.“Youandthosedamnromances.You’regoingtogiveyourselfanunhealthy outlookonmen.Noreal lifemanwill standuptothekindsofheroesinthosebooks.”
Sienashrugged.“Mystandardsarealreadyprettysky-high.”
Themanchuckledhoarsely.“Astheyshouldbe,Siena.Youtakethebook,andhaveagoodday, sweetheart.”
“Youdidn’tringmeupyet.”
Fromtheother sideofthecounter,themanwinked.“Call itevenfor youdoingmybookslast monthfor thequarter.”
Sienagavehimalook.“Yeah,andIsaw how muchyou’remaking,too.So,letmepayfor the damnbook.”
“Noway.It’sall yours.Ialreadypaidfor it.YouthoughtIwouldforget,Ibet.”
“Eugene.”
“Irememberedyour birthdaywastoday.Twenty-five.”
“Eugene. ”
Theoldmansmiled.“Youdidn’taskfor athingtodomybooks,girly.Plus,youfiledmytaxes lastyear andwouldn’tletmepayyoufor that,either.Consider itpayback,andabirthdaygift.It’sjust abook.”
“Ididn’twantanything,”shereplied,givinghimalook. Itliterallytookher all ofanhour todohisbooks,andtwentyminutestofilehistaxes. Eugeneshrugged.“Theleastyoucoulddoisallow metobuyyouabook oneyou’vebeen waitingalongtimefor metoget.Iknow youhaveoneofthosefancye-reader thingys.Youcould havejustaseasilygottenyourselfacopyonthatreadingthing,andnotfromme.It’sonebook.Don’t worryaboutit.Your readingaddictionkeepsmeinbusiness.”
Sienaknew thatwasonlypartlytrue.Shestill adoredEugenefor sayingit.Bothsetsofher grandparentshaddied oneafter theother over thespanofadecade.Beforesheever evenreached sixteenyearsold.
Now,attwenty-five,shekindoffeltlikeshehadfoundastand-infor agrandparentwithEugene. Seeinghimonceor twiceaweekmadeher wholeday.
Leaningacrossthecounter,SienapulledEugeneinfor atightone-armedhug.“Thankyou, Eugene.”
“Ah,noneedfor that.Youletmeknow ifthebookisasgoodasyouwantedittobe,okay?”
Sienatappedthepaperbackagainsther palm,andcockedabrow.“Eventhoughyouthink romancenovelsarejusttrashysexscenesnow?”
Theoldmanlaughed.“Now,Ireadsome…mostlybecauseyoumademe,butthey’reokay.” “Justokay?”
“How aboutyoudon’tgogettingunrealisticideasinyour headaboutwhatareal manis,huh?” Sienanodded.“Iwon’t.”
“Butmakesurehetreatsyoulikeaqueen.” Exactly.
“Gotit.”
Eugenewavedatthedoor.“Haveagoodday,Siena.Bytheway,Iknow that’saseries,andI havealreadyorderedthefollowingtwofor you.Thistime, you canpay.Theyshouldgethereina coupleofweeks.”
“Grazie. ”
“Ciao,”Eugenerepliedinkind,butcheringtheItaliangreeting. Itstill madeSienasmileassheheadedoutofthebookshop.Eugenedidn’tneedtomakeher feel special bysavingor buyingher books,or greetingher thewayshegreetedhimeverytimesheentered or exitedhisshop.Yet,hestill didall ofthosethings.
Shesuspectedhewastheoneandonlyreasonwhypeoplelikeher keptgoingbacktohim,and hisbookshop.Becausehewassosweet,hecared,andhenever forgottomakesomeonewhocame intohisbusinessfeel importantwhiletheywerethere.
Themanshouldhaveretiredyearsago hewasn’twillingtogiveuphisshop,though.Never wasmarried,apparently,sohedidn’thaveawifeor kidstopull himawayfromworkandshow him theworld.
Sienathumbedthroughthefirstfew pagesofthepaperbackassheheadedoutofthebookshop. Her attentionwasfullyengrossedintheopeningparagraphintroducingaCEOheroinegettingready for whatwasintendedtobethebiggestmeetingofthewoman’slife.
Shewassoengagedinthebookshehadwaitedforever for,thatshewasn’tevenpayingattention tothepeopleblowingbyher onthestreet.Itwasonlyacoupleofblockstoher brother’sclub.Kev hadtextedher four timesandleftonevoicemail askingwherethehell shewasandwhyshewaslate.
Sienadidn’tbother torespond.
Whoelsewasgoingtocookandscrubtheir books?
Nobodybuther.
Hecouldwait.
Sienaflippedtothesecondpageinthebook,andnotabreathlater rammedstraightinto somethinghard.Her bookwentsprawlingtothe thankfullydry pavement,andlandedwiththe cover up.Shestumbledbackwards,andalmostfell herself.
Adarkchuckleandahandwrappingaroundher backkepther fromhittingthegroundaswell. Thespicycologneofthemanhelpingher upwasthefirstthingSienanoticedabouttheguy.His familiar blacksuitwasthesecondthing.
ShestaredJohnathanMarcellorightinthefaceashehelpedher tostandstraight.Heflashedher asmile,showingoffstraight,whiteteethandhischarminablink.
“Twomeetingsinoneday,huh?”heasked
Sienawonderedwhyher throathadgonetightagain.Still,shemanagedtospeak.“Sorryabout that.Iwas ”
Johnathanbentdownandpickedupher book.Heeyedthetitleandthecover,andhandeditover withanother brilliantsmile.“Distracted,Ithink.Icanseewhy theguyonthatcover lookslikehe bathedhimselfinbodyoil,or something.”
“Theydosaysexsells.”
ThatsmileofJohnathan’sturnedsuggestiveinablink.“Thatitdoes.”
“It’sactuallyabookI’vebeenwaitingforever for,”sheadmitted.“Mybirthdayistoday,andthe shopkeeper remembered.It’smygiftfromhim.”
Johnathanchuckled.“A gift,huh?”
“He’soldenoughtobemygrandfather.”
“Well,happybirthday.”
“Big,oldtwenty-five,”shehalf-grumbled.
Johnathanscoffed.“Old,right.You’refiveyearsawayfrommythirty,andonlywhenyougetto therecanyoucometalktomeaboutold.”
“Thirtyisn’told.”
Andhedidn’tlookanythingbeyondtwenty-six, maybe. Johnathanshrugged.“It’sall inhow youfeel,Iguess.”
Sienadidn’tbelieveinshitlikefateor anyofthatkindofnonsense.Notbeinganumbersgirl like shewas.Shemuchpreferredtoseethingsinblackandwhite.Reality.Writteninstone,notawhatcould-bekindofthing.
Shewondered,however,whattheoddswerethatshewouldrandomlyrunintoJohnathanlike thisagain.Twice.Inoneday.
Shouldsheconsider thatasign,or something?
Maybeshecouldtryfor athirdtimetoseehim,exceptwithoutitbeingentirelyrandom.More… planned.
TheoutspokenpartofSiena’spersonalitycameforwardbeforeshecouldstopitwithtrivial thingslikenervesor anxiety.
“Hey,doyouhavesomewhere ”
Johnathan’sphoneringingloudlyinsidehispocketstoppedSienafromaskinghimtodinner like shewanted.Hepulledoutthephone,andputittohisear whileheheldupafinger for her toaskfor a minute.
“Yeah,Johnhere.”Abeatofsilencepassed,andthenJohnathansaid,“All right,man.I’monmy way.”
Johnathanhungupthephone,gaveSienaawink,andshovedthedeviceinhisjacket.
“Businesscalls,”hetoldher.“Trylookingupwhenyouwalk,huh?Gottabesafe, bella donna. Youdon’tknow thekindofcrazyyoumightrunintoaroundhere.”
Withawave,Johndartedoutintothestreet,anddidn’tgiveSienaanother look. Shehadn’tgottentoaskhimout.
Maybe that wasthesign. Whoknew?
Darrenchewedloudlyonanappleinthecorner chair asSienastrolledintotheclub’soffice.You wouldthink,giventhekindofprivateworkshedidfor her family,thattheywouldallow her the privacyofher ownoffice.
Noway.
Shealmostalwaysworkedoutofoneoftheir offices. “Late,aren’tyou?”Darrenasked.
Sienashruggedasshedroppedintheofficechair,andturnedthePCmonitor thewaysheliked. “I’mhere,aren’tI?”
“Kevisn’thappy.”
Their oldestbrother wasnever happy.
“Kevcanchill,”Sienasaid.
Acoupleofpasswords,andoneencryptedfilelater,andSienahadbroughtupthedirtybooksfor theclub.Nextweek,shewouldbeatanother officeownedbyher familytoscruboutandcookthose books,too.
