His Dirty Promises

by Fiona Murphy

  That doesn’t sound anything like the Dante I’ve been hearing about. “Man, she really messed him up. He put all this time and effort into a relationship, I mean he even missed your and Cesare’s wedding. Then she cheats on him and breaks his heart.”

  “I don’t know. I think she started it, but she’s not the problem. And she definitely didn’t break his heart—she hit his pride more than anything. Cesare has him working on the foundation they’ve been planning on setting up for years. At least something will get done. I’m just worried about him.”

  “Well, I am bummed I still haven’t met the guy, but if he’s a downer then it’s a good thing he isn’t coming. I want bottles popping and happy people, damn it. I’m in need of serious celebration, or a few hours of cuddling Matteo.” I am not hurt some dude I don’t know doesn’t want to help me celebrate graduating from a hellish program that took some very real sweat and tears to finish. Not even a little. Okay, maybe a teeny tiny bit. Supposedly, we’re family now. All I’ve heard for the last two years is how Alicia was welcomed into the circle of the three brothers, only I never felt it. Cesare is cool one time then super formal the next. Enzo is nice but I get the feeling he’s watching, waiting for me to fuck up again.

  Once, one time, I fucked up, and it’s haunted me ever since. After drinking too much I stupidly got in my car and drove home. It’s my kind of luck I made it six miles without a problem, only to drive right into my roommate’s car when I got home. Instead of just letting me repair the damn car, the bitch blackmailed me for fifty large. The fuck? The blackmail led to Alicia stealing from, then returning money to Cesare and Dante’s company to save me not being able to get into the PA program of my choice. Only Kelsey, my roommate, wasn’t done—she planned on blackmailing me again. Cesare got involved, then somehow his mob uncle got involved too, and Kelsey forgot she ever knew me.

  It’s odd to me Cesare’s uncle and cousin are nicer than Enzo and Cesare. The two supposedly scary mob guys are easy with a smile and incredibly charming. Cesare’s uncle is totally the old-fashioned mob guy I imagined, a throwback to polite and genteel Lucky Luciano and Paul Ricca. His son Dominic, however, looks like any Chicago businessman in a custom silk five-thousand-dollar suit without a trace of an accent, even though he also grew up speaking Italian like Cesare and his brothers. I was surprised to find out he’d gone to Columbia for his undergrad. While I heard Tony and Dominic mention property they own and manage when they were talking with Enzo, Dominic only talks about a bar he owns with me. I’ve often found myself gravitating to Dominic over Enzo. Enzo makes me feel like a bug under a microscope.

  Then again, maybe Enzo is always uptight. The last time I said something about Enzo, Alicia told me he was an Army Ranger for seven years. He quit when half of his team wound up dead in an operation. During his time in the Army all his money went into the Sabatini Real Estate Company, with the belief when he got out he would join his brothers. However, he used his cut to create a hedge fund that reached the trillion-dollar mark in holdings three years ago. There’s something to the stock market, because he became a billionaire in only eight years. it took Cesare and Dante almost twelve.

  Alicia snaps her fingers then waves them in front of my face. “Hello? What’s the matter?”

  “Nothing, just wondering if Dante isn’t coming, who is?” I refuse to think of how I have no friends.

  It’s not as pathetic as it sounds, my therapist assured me. School and becoming a physician assistant was my number-one focus since the age of nine. In high school I worked my ass off, hoping to get a full ride to Johns Hopkins. It didn’t happen. I got a few scholarships, two of them free rides but with the cost of housing not included, none of the offers were equal to free in-state tuition for being a foster kid. In undergrad, the first two years at UIUC I formed a few friendships. Until my junior year started and the program intensified. The friendships fell away when I kept turning down invitations to party to study. I don’t regret it. Only at times like now, when I’m reminded I don’t have friends, it’s hard not to feel like a loser.

  “Lydia and Decker and their little one Ella. Uncle Tony can’t come but Dominic said he’s happy for a free meal and night away from the bar. Enzo, of course, and Hannah. And have no fear, Cesare had a case of champagne delivered last week. We have food coming from Giordano’s. I wanted to cook, Cesare said no. Meredith’s mother had a stroke a few days ago, so she’s been in Michigan helping her dad and brother. Which means I’m in homemaker mode. Fuck it’s hard, even though we have a service come in to clean every day.”

  “Yeah, well being pregnant and running around after a toddler isn’t easy all by itself. Why is Claudine taking care of your place and Dante’s if you have Meredith?”

  “Claudine doesn’t do any housekeeping, that’s all Meredith. Claudine basically handles our money, bills and stuff. I’m sure by the time Claudine is ready to retire Cesare will trust Meredith with everything.” She shrugs. “Meredith has only been with us for six months.”

  Cesare is wealthy on a level difficult to comprehend, so I can imagine it would take time for people around him to earn his complete trust. “I’m so excited to see Matteo. I was crushed I couldn’t come back for both Thanksgiving and Christmas, but the internship was too good to pass up and they were clear working on holidays was mandatory. I feel like a bad aunt—he’s already eighteen months old and I’ve barely spent any time with him. All I’ve had are pictures for the last year. Is he going to like me? Can he understand me with you guys raising him on Italian?”

  “Matteo is a sweetheart who loves people, especially people who tell him how cute he is. He’ll love you.” She winces. “It was important to Cesare. I loved the idea the minute he said it. I was already learning Italian because the guys lapse into it without even realizing they’re doing it. Matteo knows a few words and phrases in English. Lydia teaches him when she comes over with Ella. Don’t be mad.”

  “I’m not mad. I’m just wondering if you even considered teaching him Spanish. We are Hispanic.”

  “Why would I teach him a language I barely know? I can get by in Spanish, but I’m hardly fluent. You say we’re Hispanic but are we really? We didn’t grow up in that culture. Some random guys knocked up Mom; we don’t even have the same dad. Through a DNA profile we found out they or their ancestors were both from Mexico. Sure, I like spicy food and I tan easily, but unless I’m filling out a form I don’t even think about it. I’m sorry I don’t feel the same connection you do.”

  I shrug, not willing to admit it hurts she doesn’t feel the same way. Especially when I’m not sure how I feel from one time I think of it to the next. On one hand I’m proud of my heritage; on the other hand, Alicia is right, I have no real knowledge of it. I tried to join in with the other Hispanic students in high school. They laughed at me with my horrible accent as I fumbled with my school-learnt Spanish. In college I tried to join a Latina group but wasn’t Latin enough for them. When I volunteered at a clinic in Mexico for experience and immersion, I was sure I would at last feel at home. Only I never felt welcomed by the people there. Once again I didn’t fit in. Alicia is the one person I always fit with; without her, I feel a little lost. “I’ll look into learning Italian. I was already considering trying to learn another language.”

  “I love you. You know that, right?”

  “Uh duh, I’m not an idiot.” I’ll never share my neurotic doubts—it isn’t fair to her.

  “No, but you are a smart-ass.” The captain comes over the speaker letting us know to buckle in, we’re approaching the airport.

  ***

  Dante

  Enzo doesn’t bother knocking. “Hey man, come on. We don’t want to be late.”

  I look up from my computer screen. “I’m not going.”

  “Are you serious? Bethany will be hurt if you don’t come. And Alicia is not going to be happy.”

  “I’m not in the mood for a celebration. They’d hate me more if I went. Bethany is moving in across the
hall, I’ll apologize when I meet her.” I ask Enzo what I would never ask Che. “So what’s Bethany’s deal anyway? She sounds like a pain in the ass or a brat. It was because of her Alicia put her own future on the line.”

  Enzo sinks into one of the chairs in front of my desk. “Bethany fucked up, we’ve all fucked up. I wouldn’t call her a pain in the ass, or a brat. She’s just fucking young. Remember, she’s only twenty-four and she acts like it, sometimes. Other times she acts more mature than women a decade older than her.

  “Che says she’s always appreciative for everything she is given. She even called him when he raised her allowance to tell him it wasn’t necessary. Of course he didn’t listen, then he found out she never spent the increased allowance, she moved it into a high-rate money market savings account. She’s not running around spending it on five-inch heels and handbags or fake eyelashes and nails. I’ll admit for a while there I wondered if she was real. I’ve been waiting for her to slip up, but she hasn’t. Maybe I’m too used to greedy bitches but all of that impresses the hell out of me. What’s with the question now?”

  “Because she’s going to be across the hall from me. Che says I have to watch out for her.”

  The asshole laughs. “Whatever, you just don’t like not being the baby anymore.”

  Baby my ass, two years separate each of us, Che the oldest at thirty-nine, then Enzo at thirty-seven, then me at thirty-five. Even when we were kids, the only thing being the baby got me was the smallest piece, and the most broken toys. “Fuck you, I’m not happy about being responsible for some chick I barely know. You wouldn’t want to be either.”

  His smile disappears, serious now he shakes his head. “Bethany is family now, it’s that simple. As far as I’m concerned, I’m already there if she needs me. She’s young, she has some learning to do and no doubt more mistakes to make. We do what we can to mitigate the mistakes and are there for her when she screws up.”

  It’s annoying when Enzo is right. “I guess.”

  His phone goes off with a text. “Okay, I’m going to head out. I need to stop off to pick up Bethany’s gift. Are you at least going to get her something?”

  “Fine, maybe it will help with me not going. What did you get her?”

  “I took Alicia’s suggestion and got her a spa day. Did you know Cesare wanted to gift her the condo?”

  “Are you serious?” I can’t believe Che. The place is worth over twelve million. It’s almost eleven thousand square feet in one of the best buildings on Michigan Avenue.”

  “I couldn’t believe it either. Alicia said no. She doesn’t want anything handed to Bethany. With school done, so is the handholding. She also said no to a new car, no big gifts at all. Cesare is giving her a week in Madrid.”

  “I’m relieved Alicia nixed the condo gifting. A twelve-million-dollar home as a gift, hell no.”

  Enzo nods. “I agree. A car or a few grand toward a condo or house, cool, but anything more is way too much.”

  “What other suggestions did Alicia give you for a gift?”

  “Besides the spa day, one of those all-in-one coffeemakers like you have. Bethany broke hers a few weeks ago. Catch you later.”

  Damn it, I haven’t gone shopping in forever. Usually Claudine does it for me or I go online. I’m not going to be able to get out of it. I’ll buy it and have it waiting for her in the condo when she comes home. I’m not interested in work anymore. I am hungry though.

  ***

  Bethany

  I blink twice, trying to focus on the conversation around me, hoping no one saw my head drop for a second. A quick check of the grandfather clock in the corner tells me it’s only ten minutes until nine. What the hell? I would have sworn it was closer to midnight.

  The deep bass of Dominic’s voice draws my attention to him. “It’s time I left.”

  His eyes shift to mine. The message in them is clear. “I’ll walk you out.”

  I’m up, following him out of the family room. Dominic Sabatini is one of those mysteries that promise all kinds of dark and interesting things. I, however, am smart enough not to try and discover what those things are. He’s the same age as Enzo and they both have the same world-weary eyes, although Dominic’s are a soft amber to Enzo’s bittersweet chocolate.

  I can’t think of a word to say, and he doesn’t say anything until he’s at the door. A large hand slips into his inner pocket. It’s a slim envelope he hands to me with an almost smile. He doesn’t smile much. “Congratulations on graduating, you did good. Alicia and Cesare are proud of you. I’m not good at shopping.”

  Holy fuck, there are ten one hundred-dollar bills inside a store-bought card. It’s signed by Tony and Dominic, and below Dominic’s signature is what I’m assuming is his phone number. “If you ever need anything you can’t go to Cesare for, you call me. No questions, no judgements—you’re family. You need something, me and Pop are here for you.”

  His sincerity touches me deeply. “Thank you. I—really, thank you.”

  “No problem, kid.” I’m a hugger—it’s Alicia’s fault. He doesn’t flinch. His arms go around me, hugging me tight. “Anytime, anything you need, you give me a call. Okay?”

  I nod, all the while hoping I never have to. When I turn after closing the door after him, I find Lydia cradling a sleeping Ella with Decker behind her.

  “We need to get Ella into bed. Give me a call when you’re settled. We can grab lunch.”

  “I will, thank you for coming. Thanks again for the gorgeous handbag, I love it. I’m going to look like a boss-ass bitch.” Her gift was a gorgeous large black leather Prada bag.

  Once I close the door behind them, I find Cesare watching me. “What did Dominic want?”

  I’m awful at lying. I hold up the card. “He gave me a card with a huge wad of cash in it.” Since I hope to never use the phone number, I figure it’s as unnecessary to mention as the signatures.

  His eyes darken as he studies me. “You look like you’re going to fall asleep standing. Alicia went to check on Matteo. Why don’t you head up to bed and get some sleep.”

  “Sounds good. Thanks again, for everything. Are you going to be able to talk Alicia into letting me go to Madrid by myself? I’m not a kid. I’ve lived on my own for over six years and I’m still in one piece.”

  He does his half-smile thing. “I’ll work on her. Give me another week or two.”

  “Thank you. I don’t think I’ll see you tomorrow. I will definitely sleep in and you’re right, I love Matteo, but after lunch I’m going to the condo.”

  His laughter isn’t mean. “I love him too, but he’s exhausting. I’m hoping the rest of them are all girls.”

  “Me too.” I unrepentantly push the button for the elevator. Yes, this insanely big house has an elevator, and hell yeah I’m using it.

  ***

  Dante

  It takes a minute for me to get my door open while I juggle my takeout and the large box for the all-in-one espresso and coffeemaker. As I nudge the door closed with my hip, I’m feeling a sense of accomplishment. I set everything down on the counter, then I step back and sonofabitch, everything is on the floor and I can hear glass breaking. A quick check of the bag of food shows the burger wrapped in foil is fine, the fries are everywhere but are contained in the bag.

  When I pick up the box, the clinking of glass moving around in it is loud. I tried. My stomach growls; nothing I can do now. I take the bag over to the couch. Before I sit down, I strip to my boxer briefs. I hate the suits Cesare feels are necessary to hide not just the tattoos, but how uncivilized we really are. Grabbing the remote, I turn on the television then open up the stuff I’ve recorded to find something to watch.

  Done with dinner and the movie over, I search for something else to watch, but nothing interests me. I’m up, down the hallway into my favorite room. It holds my three walls of books, a wall of family pictures, and my grand piano. My hand glides over the wood, a 1923 Steinway made of ebony. This is a long way from the banged-up oak
upright I learned on growing up.

  As they do every time I sit down, memories come tumbling back from the past. My father, endlessly patient, his voice a low deep rumble beside me. All the life lessons I learned at the piano, how to caress the keys like a woman when you want to coax a response from her. How to play passionately to stoke her fire. How to glide over the keys and in life, knowing when to glide, when to trip lightly over the keys.

  I close my eyes to the memories. There’s no need for sheet music—I was learning pieces by ear at seven. Every day after school I would play for hours, getting lost in the music. At the age of ten, my dad wanted me in a private school for music. I didn’t want to leave my school and friends. At first he fought me on it. Gradually, he understood music was something I loved for me, not to perform for others.

  The ten-year stretch of not playing, starting when my father killed himself after killing my mother and her lover, was tough without music. Movies and books became a substitute, but I missed playing. Making peace with what my father did wasn’t easy; sometimes I’m not sure I really have, or if I pretend in order to play again. Now, my fingers start moving: Liszt, Piano Sonata in B Minor. Before long I’m lost in the piece, when I’m done I begin the same piece again. This time when I’m done I flow right into Chopin.

  Hours pass without me noticing them until my back begins aching. With a sigh I stop playing. The music hangs in the air all around me. I slide off the bench. A glance at my watch—it’s a little after eleven. I’m not tired though. Rolling my neck, I walk into my home gym. Before I quit drinking, I would come in here two or three times a week, get my sweat on until my muscles burned, then I called time. Now, I’m in here every day for an hour or two before bed, until I’m exhausted enough to crash hard into sleep.

  I grab a protein shake from the mini-fridge, it also holds bottles of water and cold packs for when I over do things. Chugging the shake, I set the music to my workout mix then turn it up loud. The bass is throbbing as I toss the empty bottle. I slide onto the bench press, which still has the same weights from last night on it. I’m up to two fifty. Taking a deep breath, I grip the bar. I’m looking forward to the burn.