During Mass, the Uncles sat with their immediate families across the aisle from Carlo Sr.’s family. There was a separation between the branches of the family that was, in many ways, stark. But there was little separation in familial affection. Beniamino and Lorenzo Pagano, Luca’s father’s older brothers, had taken over their father’s business. Pagano Shipping became Pagano Brothers Shipping. And then they had added a new dimension to the business. The kind of dimension that didn’t end up in IRS filings.
Luca’s father had wanted no part of it, and he’d been allowed to branch off on his own, building Pagano & Sons Construction into a strong, successful, and respected legitimate business. He’d done well to keep the taint of the Uncles from his side of the pews. For the most part. But most of New England heard the name Pagano and made some judgments about any person carrying the name.
And there was some occasional crossover. Joey had dallied briefly as a runner for the Uncles before he’d been shot. Carlo had asked the Uncles for help a couple of times. And Carlo and Luca had gotten inadvertently tangled up with them when they’d tried to help Joey out of a fix. Now, because they had crossed into the Uncles’ business, they each owed a debt.
And it seemed that Luca’s marker was being called.
Uncle Ben and Uncle Lorrie were dapper, old-fashioned men, of average build or a bit smaller, both with thick, white hair and full mustaches, and always dressed impeccably. Probably four inches taller and eighty or more pounds heavier, Luca felt like an oaf standing next to them.
Nick, Lorrie’s son, was the oldest male cousin. He was six feet but not as bulky as Luca. He looked like a badass mofo, though, no mistake. He had a way of staring at you, his eyes piercing like blades, that made your balls crawl up into your belly. Nick had embraced the Pagano Brothers’ world, and he had risen through the ranks to become one of their most fearsome capos. Luca was a little worried about what was in store for him, if Nick was involved.
Fred Naldi was a typical old, round Italian guy, who’d had way too much cappicola in his life. As consigliere, his presence and Nick’s at this little confab suggested that whatever was going to be demanded of Luca would be more than a simple drop.
Uncle Ben extended his hand. “Luca. You look well. But you don’t own a tie?”
He was wearing dark boots, good jeans and a black button-down shirt. Church clothes, as far as he was concerned. “Sorry, Uncle. Not really much of a tie guy.”
“We show respect by the way we dress, nephew.” He shook his head. “But that’s your father’s problem.”
Actually, Luca thought, he was a grown fucking man and would wear what the fuck he wanted. As he had that thought, the helmet under his arm felt especially heavy.
“I know Sunday is your day at the house, so we won’t keep you. But tonight, after dinner—say, nine o’clock—stop by the warehouse. We have some business.” Ben reached out and gave Luca’s arm and squeeze. “You enjoy your day. We’ll see you tonight.”
With that, he knew he was dismissed. He nodded and went back to his father and siblings.
He felt fairly sure he was fucked.
oOo
“What are you doing out here in front, man? Everybody’s out back.”
Luca had been sitting alone on the steps leading up to the house. The chaos of Sunday on Caravel Road had just been too much for him today. He had a lot on his mind.
Carlo’s voice brought him back to the here and now. He had come up behind him and now sat a couple of steps up from him, handing him a cold beer over his shoulder. “You okay? Saw the summons. Does that have you bent?”
Luca shrugged. “I guess. I have to go to the warehouse after dinner. I have no idea what they’re gonna want.”
“I didn’t like that Nick was standing with them.”
“No, sir.” They got along fine with Nick. He’d always been a decent cousin. He was five years older than Carlo and nine years older than Luca, but he hadn’t been a shit about it when they were kids. They’d played together as kids and hung out some as teens. But he was not someone with whom to fuck. With him involved, it was hardcore, whatever the Uncles wanted from Luca.
“They haven’t come to you yet, have they?” Luca looked over his shoulder at his brother.
“You’d know if they had. It’s been almost a year, but they have long memories. It’ll happen. I was hoping they’d bring us in together.”
Luca laughed. “We have different skill sets, big brother. They’ll probably ask you to make them a building. Me, I think I’m gonna end up bloody. Mine or somebody else’s.”
“You don’t know that.”
“We both know that, Carlo.”
The brothers sat in silence, drinking their beer. Then Luca asked a question that he’d been gnawing at before Carlo had come out. “If you could look at the last, say, eight years of your life—starting right before you met Jenny—and see eight years into the future, all the crap you were gonna live through, would you do anything different?”
He’d asked the question without looking back at Carlo. Now, the silence behind him extended into uncomfortable territory, and he turned his head to see Carlo staring at him, his forehead creased. “What’s going on, Luc?”
“What d’you mean? It’s just a question.”
“That question is wicked philosophical—not usually your style.”
“Fuck you, asshole. I think about shit.”
Carlo cocked an eyebrow. “Luc.”
Luca laughed. “Okay, maybe not as much as some.” He finished his beer. “You got an answer?”
Looking out over the road below, and with a heavy sigh, Carlo was quiet, thinking. Finally he said, “No. I’m sitting here thinking about all the shit, the scary stuff, the heartbreak, almost losing Trey, what happened to Joey, what Bina went through, and there’s a lot I wish hadn’t happened. But it all got me here. You know? I can’t think of any one thing I could change that would still land me here. And, brother, I am good here. I can’t say I wish I hadn’t married Jenny, because if I hadn’t, I wouldn’t have Trey. Maybe Pete and I would have left Supratecture and gone out on our own earlier, and maybe we would have been too busy to bother with James Auberon’s stupid party. I met Bina at that party. Maybe she’d still be with that sadistic piece of shit. Or, no—she’d be dead. No. The bad makes the good. And I want to be where I am. So I wouldn’t change anything at all.” He pushed at Luca’s shoulder. “You have regrets, bro?”
“Nah. I guess I’m wondering if I will someday. If shit I’ve already done, or shit I might do, will fuck things up. I guess I haven’t done much changing.”
“No, Luc, you have not. You’ve worked one job in your whole life. You live in the same apartment you moved to from this house—where you were born. You’ve never had a serious relationship with a woman. You’re the same guy you’ve always been.” When Luca looked down at the step between his feet, feeling some kind of weight in his gut at that bleak summary of his life, Carlo went on, “That’s not bad, bro. You’re a good guy. If you’re happy, then just…live. You’re all set.”
“I don’t know, Carlo. I don’t know.”
“You meet somebody?”
Luca swiveled at the waist to gape at Carlo. “What? No! Why’d you ask that?”
Carlo smirked. “Two things I know can make any man rethink his life. Death or a woman. Somehow, I don’t think imminent death would have you so inside out.”
“Forget about it, Carlo. You’re an arrogant ass. You don’t know shit.”
“Whatever you say, bro.”
oOo
On most Sunday nights, the shipping division of Pagano Brothers Shipping ran a skeleton third shift, so the lot was nearly empty. At some distance from the building, three big, black Lincoln Navigators and a black Corvette were parked in a row—the Navigators would be Uncle Ben, Uncle Lorrie, and Nick. The ‘Vette was Fred’s. They parked away from the building to guard the structure against damage from potential car bombs.
Luca liked the harbor a
t night. All the fishing boats and the tourist cruisers, the sailboats and speedboats of the locals and summer people—everything was docked, and the sound of all those boats floating quietly in their moorings was among the most peaceful Luca knew.
He even liked the smell, strongly fishy but somehow still homey. And the lights, the way they shimmered on the water.
The whole vista gave him a sense of peace. He straddled his Duc, on the edge of the lot, and took it in, taking what peace he could before he went in to meet with the Uncles.
The door to the administrative part of the building was locked, but Uncle Ben’s driver opened it and held it for him.
“Hey, Luca. You can go on in.”
“Thanks, Bobbo.”
He knocked on the burled walnut double doors anyway, and Uncle Lorrie opened it. He shook Luca’s hand. “Come on in, nephew. Have a seat.”
Uncle Ben was behind his expansive desk. Fred and Nick sat on a red leather sofa just to the side of the room.
Yeah, this was going to suck. Whatever it was, it was going to suck.
Luca nodded at Fred and Nick, shook Uncle Ben’s hand, and took a seat in a red leather armchair facing the desk, and Uncle Lorrie sat in a similar chair at his side.
“Thank you, Luca, for joining us. We won’t keep you long. It’s Sunday, and your Aunt Angie doesn’t like me working on Sunday. It’s time to pay your debt.”
“I assumed as much. Sir.”
Uncle Ben considered him over his folded hands. His gold wedding band had a diamond inlay, and it glinted in the light from his shaded desk lamp. “I think you met Fred’s nephew today. Anthony.”
“The kid who wants to learn to fight? Yeah.” He turned and looked at Fred. “He introduced himself at the Corner. I told him I’d see what he’s got and try to hook him up with a trainer.”
“You’ll train him, Luca.”
He swiveled back to his Uncle. “All respect, Uncle, but I don’t have that kind of time. It’s not something you can do a couple hours a couple nights a week.”
“You’ll make the time. This is not a request.”
“I’m sorry. I don’t understand. When did the Paganos get involved in the fights? Why is this kid so important?” He turned back to Fred. “No disrespect.”
“None taken,” Fred replied and nodded toward Uncle Ben. Luca sat straight in his seat again.
“Fred speaks for himself. I’m feeling disrespected.” Luca swallowed at that and dropped his eyes. Disrespecting the Uncles was a good way to lose a body part. “You know the way of this, Luca. And we decide what answers you need. But because we need your investment in this arrangement, and I don’t want to dick around here, I’ll give you some answers. Through some business dealings you don’t need to concern yourself with, we are now involved in the fights. This mixed martial arts fighting that you were part of. We sponsor a light heavyweight, Timmy Dolan, and a featherweight, Darron Gentry. It’s been brought to our attention that fights are being fixed. You know how we feel about cheats. So we want it stopped. We need someone we can trust, someone with family ties and interests as well as experience and expertise, in the thick. That, nephew, is you.”
Christ. That shit would get him killed for sure. There was huge bank in fixed fights, and the guys fixing them didn’t take kindly to rats. “You want me undercover? Uncle, I’m not a detective. I don’t know shit about how that works.”
“You’re going to train Anthony and get in there, keep your eyes and ears open. If we want you to do more than that, we’ll let you know. We’ll get him some fights. You just get him ready. This is serious for him, so train him straight. Train him to win.”
Fuck. Well, he’d been fretting earlier that his life had been too unchanged. So much for that. Wasp’s nest, meet stick.
“Okay. Yes, sir. I’m meeting him tomorrow. We’ll get started.”
“Excellent.” Uncle Ben stood and extended his hand across his desk. The meeting was over.
oOo
He didn’t know why he’d ridden by Manny’s apartment. It wasn’t even on his way back from the harbor. But his head had been too full of things to think about, and he had just sort of gravitated to Cormorant Street. She was just getting out of her little piece of shit car, and she walked back to her hatch and opened it. It seemed she had some crap to unload.
Luca pulled in behind her, and she turned around. She smiled at first, but then it faded, and she put her hands on her hips, watching him suspiciously as he killed the engine on his Duc.
“Hey, little bit. You want a hand?”
Her eyes followed him as he approached. She looked cute, her black hair loose and straight, those bangs brushing her eyelashes over her piercing baby blues. She wore a short white skirt and thigh-high pink stockings with white polka dots. Yellow Converse sneakers. And a green t-shirt with a peace sign in the center, made of darker green sequins.
Whoa. Her fashion sense was…not what he was used to. She was dressed like a tiny punk clown. And still, she looked wicked hot. He really liked those thigh-high things. Even pink with polka-dots.
“Are you fucking a lot of girls?”
He’d been about to make a comment about her attire, but that question knocked whatever he was going to say clear of his head. “Please?”
“Right now. Are you fucking a lot of girls?”
“Right now?”
“Not right this second, dork. I mean…like…I don’t know what I mean. My mom said—”
“Wait. Your mom said?”
“Yeah. Dottie. She said because you were kissing that girl yesterday morning you would probably hurt me, because you’re probably fucking a lot of girls. Well, she didn’t say it like that, but I’m pretty sure that’s what she meant.”
Okay, now his head was too busy sorting all that shit out to have the energy for words. She’d seen him with Lynne, somehow. On the beach, maybe? She’d talked to her mom about him, in some detail. He was not the kind of guy a girl told her parents about. Certainly not after one fucking date. And hey, cool, her mom already hated him. Awesome. Though why that should matter, he wasn’t sure.
There were two cardboard boxes in the hatch of her Honda. He stacked the lighter on top of the heavier, picked them up, and walked toward her building.
They apparently needed to talk.
~ 8 ~
Luca picked up her boxes and walked away, headed toward her apartment building. Manny slung her canvas bag across her shoulder and slammed the hatch closed, then followed him.
He still hadn’t answered her question.
He was waiting for her at the top of the steps, on the porch. When she got up there with him, before she opened the door into the building, she asked, “Well? Are you?”
There was a line down the middle of his forehead, so she’d made him mad. Or confused. Sometimes those looked a lot alike.
“Can we talk about this inside?”
“Yeah.” She held the door open for him, then trotted up the stairs past him and unlocked the door to her apartment.
When he came in, he lifted the stack of boxes at her. “Where do you want these?”
“Um, just over there.” She indicated the space next to a bookcase. He set the stack down with a thump.
“That bottom one’s heavy. What you got in there?”
A whole trove of new treasures, and she’d been looking forward to putting some Joy Division on her turntable and spending the rest of the night finding homes for everything. “Just some new stuff for my place. My folks took me to the Providence Flea today. It was fun.”
“New stuff? For your place? More?”
Something about his tone made her angry. She thought he was making fun of her. “Yeah. So?” She hung her bag on the hook by the door and turned back to him, putting her hands on her hips. “What’s it to you?”
He put his hands up, like he was showing her he was unarmed or something. “Nothing. Sorry. If you got stuff you like, then that’s awesome.”
Wait. Luca was in her apar
tment again. How had that happened? “Why are you here?”
He chuckled and gave her a look she couldn’t read. “Well, I guess I’m here because you asked a question that needs more than a quick answer. But I was just passing by and saw you getting out of your car, so I stopped.”
“Passing by? The street dead ends at the end of my block.”
He blinked. “Yeah. I guess it does.”
“You’re confusing me, Luca. I don’t know what you want. I can’t tell if you’re lying to me or what. I can’t deal with lies. I don’t have any place to put them.” Honesty was all she had. Without it, she was absolutely lost. And it felt like he wasn’t saying something. Or he was saying the wrong thing. Or she was asking the wrong thing.
Touch (The Pagano Family Book 2) Page 10
