by Hazel Parker
She elbowed me gently in the ribs as I escorted her to the front door. I had to get my innuendos somewhere; I definitely wasn’t going to risk saying them around my siblings, who would pick up on them far too quickly.
The first person who saw us was Layla, and I watched for her immediate reaction. Much to my relief, it was one of excitement and curiosity, not judgment and glares.
“Izzy, this is my sister, Layla, the only sane Ferrari sibling.”
The two shook hands and exchanged pleasantries. They briefly discussed Ferrari wines while I took a step back, content to let Izzy do the talking.
I probably hadn’t given her enough credit. I’d talked myself up that I was going to be a great host and show her around, but that wasn’t giving her the agency she could assume. She did, after all, work in a marketing firm; it wasn’t like she was a shut-in artist who didn’t know how to communicate with the world.
Brett and Leo came in seconds later. Perhaps the biggest surprise was that both of them behaved the exact same way—respectful and without jokes. Brett, I would have figured, would have made some off-color joke, while Leo would have just waved from a couch or chair. But both of them engaged her and asked questions.
This, however, was the easy part, especially compared to—
“Get your butts in here; dinner’s ready!”
Meeting my grandfather and grandmother.
I held my breath as I led her into the dining room. I was determined to introduce Izzy before the meal started. But to my pleasant surprise, again, I didn’t need to worry about a thing—my grandfather was waiting.
“You must be Izzy,” he said. “Alf Ferrari. Welcome to my home.”
“Thank you, sir,” she said. “It’s a beautiful place.”
“My wife does all the beautification of it; I can’t keep up.”
And…
“Oh, stop, Alf. Hi there! I am Mary Ferrari.”
The words were a little, just a little, thick, like Grandma wanted to say something biting and scathing but had held her tongue for the sake of the moment. I tried to get a sense of if Izzy picked up on that, but I did not notice anything. It still irked me, but like all family introductions, I decided to just bite my tongue, let the good-natured conversation play out, and then talk about it with Izzy after.
The dinner itself could not have gone any better, though. No one mentioned kids or made smart-ass remarks about children. Layla and my grandfather especially engaged Izzy, wanting to know about her work at her firm, even using it as an opportunity to crack jokes about how I must have been the bottom of the barrel for their ideal speakers. For the most part, even though this dinner was to celebrate my new contract, I let it unofficially be a celebration of my new partner.
Which, come to think of it, we haven’t even had that conversation yet.
But, I mean, do we really need to?
So much had happened between us or to us that I couldn’t foresee anything that would somehow split us apart. Of course, nothing was guaranteed, but what external condition could keep us apart? And if she was here, she probably felt the same way.
“Well, that was delicious,” Grandpa said when the main course and even dessert had wrapped up about an hour later. “Izzy, this is the point when us old farts usually retire to the lounge and drink some wine.”
“Old farts?” Grandma said incredulously, but I knew she was kidding.
“You are more than welcome to join.”
“We’ll come,” I said, trying to take the pressure off of Izzy. “She loves the Ferrari Wine.”
“Oh good!” he said, sounding genuine. “Then, there’s no reason to wait. Let’s go.”
Izzy gave me a bemused look, and I recognized I’d probably been a little too zealous and eager to play the part of caring boyfriend. At least it was probably better than me being an ass of a boyfriend or something like that.
We got to the lounge, and Grandpa turned on the television. Grandma had one of the maids bring out glasses of wine, and we took our seats. My dad was on one side with my grandparents, Izzy and I were in the middle, and the siblings were off to the left. We all got our wines, and my grandfather cleared his throat.
“Let us toast to the reason for tonight,” he said. “To you, Nick Ferrari. You’ve reached the pinnacle of your profession, and I could not be prouder. Congratulations.”
“Here, here,” I said with everyone.
I clinked glasses with Izzy next to me and took our sip. Gradually, conversations broke out between the two generations, leaving the two of us settled in.
“Not too bad, huh?” I said.
“Not at all,” Izzy said. “Thank you for inviting me.”
“Of course, baby,” I said with a wicked grin.
Izzy gently elbowed me.
“Don’t you dare embarrass me in front of your family,” she said. “This is my first impression!”
“Oh, relax. I’m not going to do anything too embarrassing.”
And then I got naughty. I leaned forward, close enough that only Izzy would have a chance of hearing me.
“But I am going to do plenty of things to your body later that will make you blush.”
But when I pulled back to see Izzy’s reaction, I got none. In fact, she wasn’t even paying attention to me. Her eyes were fixed on the television screen. I followed hers.
“Convicted domestic abuser found murdered in jail cell.”
I couldn’t hear the audio over the family conversations, but the picture of Malcolm was right there. He was dead. Killed in his jail cell.
What the fuck have I done…
A lump formed in my throat that I could not swallow.
And it was made all the worse by the fact that Izzy saw my reaction, and hers had changed from horror to incensed suspicion.
Chapter 22: Izzy
He just got my ex murdered in jail.
His family just got Malcolm murdered in jail.
What in the actual hell have I gotten myself into?
The issue wasn’t that Malcolm was gone. I didn’t wish death on anyone, but I couldn’t pretend his death had been some sort of heartbreak to me. His actions put him in a spot where he had it coming.
But…
I didn’t have proof, obviously, but I knew from the way Nick was reacting to what he saw, the look of shock, but not surprise… he knew something like this would happen. If he could get someone to murder Malcolm behind bars, what else could he do? Could he get me murdered? Could he get Ryan held hostage? Could he murder my family?
Was I now trapped for life with this kind of shit? Did I have to be on perfect behavior from now until the end of time to ensure no one in my family got hurt?
So the rumors were actually fucking true. I couldn’t fucking believe it. I’d cracked a joke. Had Nick…had Nick actually lied to me?
No, no…but the obvious counterpoint was staring at me smack in the face. If Nick hadn’t requested that, he wouldn’t have the guilty look on his face. If I were generous, I’d say he recently learned of his family connections after I got abused, but that seemed like bullshit. A man of his age just didn’t magically learn family secrets.
“I gotta get going,” I said, standing up, not waiting for Nick to hold me down. “Layla, Brett, Leo, thank you for your hospitality. Mister and Mrs. Ferrari, thank you for hosting me.”
“Of course,” his grandmother said, apparently unaware of what was going on right now. “You were a delight. Come by anytime.”
“Thanks,” I said, almost assuredly sounding too flustered to make it seem like I would ever return.
I just started walking, not even knowing where I was going. The whole place was too damn big. I didn’t care if I went out to the backyard and had to circle around to the front. I just…I just…
I just needed to fucking get away before I found myself on the wrong side of this family.
But then I found myself at a dead end.
“If you’re looking for the front door, it’s the other way,” Ni
ck said behind me. “I can take you there.”
I had to bite my lip from saying something too scathing. I felt betrayed, lied to, manipulated. And while perhaps the Ferrari family didn’t know that, the man who had brought me sure as hell did.
“Izzy, what’s going on?” he said. “Are you sure you want to—”
“Leave? Yes,” I said. “Take me to my car. I don’t want to stay here any longer than I have to.”
Nick swallowed again. It wasn’t what he was saying as much as what he wasn’t saying. He wasn’t asking me why I was upset because he knew. He wasn’t saying I was crazy because he knew. He wasn’t saying that I needed to chill because he knew.
He fucking knew.
He started walking toward what I damn well hoped was the front door. He at least had the fucking mercy to avoid taking me back through the family room—too bad he didn’t have the fucking mercy to tell me his family had these sorts of seedy connections. When we got to the front, he held the door open. I blew right by him, even as I heard him following me.
“Izzy, please, talk to me—”
“You want me to talk to you,” I said, feeling like I could finally speak my mind without his family present. “You want me to fucking talk to you? That’s rich. After you don’t talk to me about the family connections you have?”
“What are you—”
“Don’t play fucking coy with me,” I said. “I saw how you reacted to that news report about Malcolm’s death. I asked you straight up on our second date if your family was involved with the mafia. You laughed and got pissed that people would even ask you that, saying it was mostly just stereotypes. I should have known—you weren’t genuinely upset. You were just hiding it.”
“Izzy, I swear—”
“And how the fuck am I supposed to know that you aren’t going to put a hit on me if I leave you?” I said. “Or my son? What happens if he does something to annoy your grandparents or family? What happens if I, I don’t know, can’t have more kids? What then? Do I suddenly become a target, Nick?”
Nick stepped forward. I was shaking, trembling. He put his hands on my shoulders. I had to admit, the touch felt good and calming, even if every fiber of my being wanted to smack the shit out of him.
Maybe I wanted to believe he had no idea what had happened. Maybe I had misread him entirely. Maybe I was acting completely out of my goddamn mind, and Nick was being an absolute saint by handling this with grace.
No. You know the truth in your gut.
“Izzy, just…give me thirty seconds to talk,” he said.
“Go.”
He gulped.
“I care about you more than anything right now, baseball included,” he said. “I care about Ryan. I care about your family. I care about your safety. I will always care about those things. Even if I found out that you cheated on me and ran away with some other guy, I’d still want to make sure you’re safe. I may not do so happily, but I have great affection for you, Izzy. I don’t know what our future holds, but I know I will always care for you and your son. I will not let anyone lay a hand on you.”
That…
Was sweet…
But it also didn’t directly address the question of if he had ordered the hit or not. He wasn’t going to give that information to me straight. I should have known better.
“OK,” I said.
I didn’t have anything else I could sincerely say right now. The words were nice, sure, but they didn’t actually say anything I didn’t already know. He was saying he’d never hurt me, but that was so easy to say when things were going well.
I just needed some space. I needed to figure out all of this goddamn nonsense and decide if it was worth looking past because it was definitely something I either needed to look around or just walk away from.
“Have a good night, Nick.”
“Can I drive you home?”
I would have laughed if the situation didn’t feel so serious.
“No,” I said. “I’ll call you later.”
Even that felt like a bit much. But it felt like I had to give him something, some crumbs, just to keep him from saying anything more. If I shut him up now, maybe there’d be a chance to talk later.
But one thing I knew for damn sure as I got into my car.
I didn’t feel quite as trusting and safe with Nick Ferrari as I had once assumed. It may have been stereotypical to say, but the mafia always operated with a price; I just happened to see the price tag before the bill came due.
Chapter 23: Nick
“God fucking damnit!” I yelled as Izzy’s car sped off.
You should have just told her the fucking truth. You should have just said that you asked your uncle to take care of him and you left it at that. You can plausibly claim you didn’t ask for his death.
Instead, you were a fucking coward.
I slumped to the edge of the stairs out of the Ferrari estate, feeling broken and beaten. I had so much disgust right now—disgust for the news station airing that report at that moment; disgust at Izzy for walking out so quickly and not giving me the chance to talk; disgust at myself for putting Izzy in that spot and not even saying anything of value when it came time.
I didn’t regret making the request. Maybe I’d have to pay for it when I reached the afterlife, but I didn’t mind making that request so this current life would be a little more peaceful for Izzy. She would never have to worry about Malcolm again.
But I sure regretted not knowing better.
“Are you OK?”
I turned around to see Layla standing at the entrance. I waved her off.
“It’s fine,” I said.
“Nick, what—”
“I said it’s fucking fine, OK?” I snapped.
Layla paused at the doorway for just a second before closing it, leaving me to my own devices—my chance to wallow in my own stupidity.
All I wanted was to know that Izzy and I could go forward and develop a long-lasting relationship. Shit, we’d never had the talk, but before five minutes ago, we basically were a couple.
Now?
I stayed out on those steps, ignoring numerous requests from my parents and other siblings to come inside as I just waited for something, anything, from Izzy. Her last words that she would call me later had left me waiting for a call, but as it dawned on me that “later” could mean anything from tonight to a couple of days to now to “I changed my mind and I’m never contacting you again,” I began to feel more and more morose. The sky even started to darken.
It was probably about half an hour that I just sat out there, moping in my misery. I alternated between a whole lot of feelings, but they all remained grounded in the depression that felt like it was overtaking me.
Finally, after half an hour, my phone buzzed. It was Izzy.
“Home safe. Thanks for dinner. Will talk to you later.”
Well, it was grateful, at least. I didn’t have much hope that it would then lead to anything special down the road, but at least she was—for now—staying true to the idea of reaching out to me at some point. That provided some temporary happiness.
The door opened behind me.
“Nick,” my father said.
“Not now, Dad, I’m—”
“I’m not asking permission to talk to you.”
“I’m a grown-ass man, Dad, I—”
“Nick Ferrari, what the fuck did you do?”
I had never heard my father swear like that at me before. I looked back and saw anger simmering in him that surpassed anything I’d seen when I got in trouble as a child. I would have taken being slapped or spanked as a child in comparison to what I felt was about to happen.
“What are you talking about—”
“The way Izzy left suddenly when the two of you saw the newscast got me curious as to why the death of an inmate would shake you so,” he said. “The death of that inmate was premeditated. They’re working out the kinks, but you don’t get to be as successful as we are by waiting for official confirma
tion of details. I called your uncle. Turns out he got a call from you a couple of weeks ago, asking to take care of him. Is that true?”
Fuck me.
“Yes.”
“Jesus Christ,” my father said. “Do you have any idea what the fuck you’ve done?”
“A pretty good one, yeah, considering—”
“No, you don’t. You have no idea. You dipped your feet into a shark-infested pool, and now this is a decision that’s going to ripple out and have unbearable consequences.”
My father was literally shaking with anger.
“If you knew what we went through as a family,” he said. “If you knew what we escaped, what sort of trials and traumas we had when I was a child, you would never have even considered doing this. We fought like hell to protect the four of you from exposure to that world. And now, you’ve unleashed that right back into this world.”
“Dad, I’m sorry—”
“Just shut up!”
I bit my lip. I was sure by now everyone in the family could hear us arguing. I just hoped that they couldn’t hear the specific details.
“I…I can’t even tell you what happened, because it hurts so much, what happened to us when we were young,” he said. “You think putting us back in that world is smart? Especially when your grandparents worked so hard and risked so much to get us out? And now you’ve ruined it all, and for what? Some girl?”
She’s not some girl, but I didn’t say anything.
“Your mother and grandmother will be worried sick. Fuck…and for a single mother.”
“Dad!”
Now it was my turn to lose my temper. We weren’t going to come to blows, but this was a fight rapidly escalating to the point of lingering for a long, long time.
“I’m sorry Izzy doesn’t fit you or grandma and grandpa’s vision of a perfectly devout and pious lady who goes to church every Sunday and doesn’t swear. I’m sorry that the modern world does not conform to your tight-knit ideals. Maybe Brett and Layla and Leo have to be more cautious about who they pick, but that’s not even the point. I care about Izzy because she’s a wonderful human being, not because I know bringing her around will piss off the family. I’d do anything for her, and it’s pretty obvious that I have. She is not just ‘some girl,’ and you would do well to treat her with some respect.”
