by Xander Hades
Left to wait on High Lord’s Pleasure, I was supposed to chill in this unused room, but instead, I prowled the place like a tiger in a cage. If it was supposed to put me off-balance. It worked.
When Lightning Hudson came back, he escorted me to the study. I was never allowed in that room when I was here as a child, but I knew where it was. Not that it mattered to this speed demon, he just shuffled the 20 feet to the door and pointed to it. The old bastard wouldn’t even open it or announce me. I wondered if he ever treated Tony the same way. I sure as hell knew he never would have gotten away with this behavior with my father. With him there wasn’t a man in the city who didn’t say “Yes, sir!” to every last thing he said.
Myself included.
Screw it. I walked in.
I instantly saw why I wasn’t ever allowed in this place. It looked like it was lifted complete from 1948. Everything was wood, deep dark wood. Mahogany, oak, teak, rosewood, some so rare and exotic even I didn’t know what they were. In the corner was a glass-encased display case with a book so old the pages looked like lace.
Standing next to that was Deanna. My eyebrows rose a bit when I saw her. Deanna was trying to wear a suit. She didn’t quite make it work. The jacket was cut so that her breasts shot out of the dark cloth and the white shirt she was wearing only made it look worse. A thin skirt to her knees and shoes with spiked heels so high, they didn’t look much like shoes for walking.
I didn’t know what look she was going for, but it came off like Stripper Barbie got her MBA. I kinda liked it. Then I had to remind myself that I wasn’t supposed to like her anymore. A part of me strongly disagreed with that assessment.
“Welcome Michael.” She said it so quietly I barely heard her.
I had no trouble hearing her father.
“Michael.” He boomed like we’re old friends who hadn’t seen each other for years instead of having shared cannoli in memory of my brother only yesterday. As if all the posturing and making me wait never happened, he’s just so freaking glad to see me.
He was behind a desk. Calling that monstrosity, a desk was like calling an 18-wheeler a “car.” It was oak and walnut and I don’t even know what all. It was as big as a ship and imposing as hell. The whole thing had been made to order from what I’d heard. Designed to intimidate.
I shook his hand when he stood, then turned to Deanna to extend the pleasantries. Even I knew that no one was allowed to sit down until any ladies present had seated themselves first. Dinky’s old school and you played by Emily Post at his place. Only Deanna was still standing there. That’s when I realized what the hell I’d been looking at in that glass cabinet. Deanna had told me about it long ago, but it’s a different thing to be in the same room with an actual Gutenberg Bible. “Is that what I think it is?” came out of my mouth before I could stop it.
“I picked it up a few years ago,” Dominic said casually. “It was part of a wager.” You could hear the satisfaction positively dripping from his voice. “I won.”
He acted like it was something a buddy gave him or something he’d found in a gas station convenience store. I might have thought he was trying to impress me, but I knew him better than that. He didn’t give a shit about my opinion of him.
“Listen, Michael,” he said and I braced myself for the millionth platitude. One thing about losing members of your family, people love to remind you that you’ve lost members of your family. It keeps the memory fresh. “I’m sorry for your loss…”
“Let’s cut the shit, uncle Dom, ok? You and I both know what my home life was like. I daresay you’ll miss either of them more and harder than I ever will. Tony and I were in constant competition trying to be his ‘favorite,’ though neither of us was.”
That threw him off. Father and he were best friends for many years and to hear me talk that way about his buddy pissed him off. Good. Then we could both be in a pissy mood.
“He didn’t have any other kids,” Deanna said, frowning prettily in confusion. “So who was his favorite?”
“He was.” I kept looking at Dominic. He’d gotten control over himself, but I could tell it rankled. It was probably worse because he knew I was right.
“Sit down, Michael,” Dominic said. It was said politely said, but it was just shy of an order. There was a couch and two chairs in the middle of the room he pointed at. I took one of the wingback chairs, waited until Deanna’s shapely ass was settled before sinking into the most comfortable chair I had ever sat on. It was probably made by by elves or Greek gods or whatever alien could invent this kind of softness. To my surprise, Dom took the couch and I found myself curious if that was as comfortable.
Deanna had taken the chair next to me. From Dominic’s expression, he was not all that thrilled that she was here, but he was not throwing her out either. I began to wonder if him making me wait was less about a pissing contest and more about me waiting till she and he were finished talking. The air positively crackled with things left unsaid. I’m no soothsayer, but I was willing to bet good money that they’d been in some kind of a spat before I’d shown up.
Deanna still looked a little sulky as she perched on the edge of the chair. I’d seen that particular sneering curl to her lip before. She pulled down her skirt and tried to adjust her jacket. She even crossed her ankles, but with the way her chest was trying to explode out of her jacket and the spiked come-fuck-me shoes, she looked like a hooker in church. I coughed once to try and get that image out of my mind.
“Michael,” Dominic said, waving his hands around. His hands kept tempo to his speech. When Dom got angry or excited his hands moved so fast, it was like standing in front of a fan. “I know that you and Deanna had a history.”
History. That’s rich. History would imply some action that mattered, that had held some kind of impact on your world. What we’d had was…well whatever the hell it was, I’d hardly call it history.
“But of course you knew that she was going to marry your brother.”
I looked at him, not liking where this was going. Judging from the tilt to Deanna’s chin she was liking this about as much as I was.
Dominic leaned forward, looking from one us to the other. His eyes were hard. Unyielding “I want to know, did Tony know about the two of you?”
Damn this wasn’t the conversation I wanted to have. Next thing you know he’d go and decide I’d assassinated my brother by telling him what I had the day of the funeral. On one hand that might get me off the hook for my current career crisis. On the other hand, I’d be too dead to enjoy the freedom.
So I nodded real careful like. I could see out of the corner of my eye, Deanna getting pale. Not that I felt sorry for her. She’d cooked her own goose as far as I was concerned. “I told him the day of our father’s funeral. It was the last thing he and I ever discussed.”
Her lips parted. I could practically see the question there. I could even tell what it was, but I wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction. Not in front of her father. I wanted to think I was protecting her, the same way I wanted to think Tony died from a broken heart.
I might have taken a little pleasure in watching her squirm though.
“Michael,” Dominic changed before my eyes, the benevolent uncle gone. The guy straightening up and rubbing the palms of his hands together was, Dominic “Dinky” D’Angelo, a man who knew how to run a business and make deals with people who didn’t want to deal with him. “Have you heard of Benny D’Marco?”
I had a tell. When a man plays poker, there’s usually a tic or hitch or something that gives away his hand. When you’re excited, your eyebrow twitches, when you’re bluffing, you clear your throat a lot. That’s called a tell. Good players control it. Excellent players use their tells to throw off an opponent, indicating a good hand while bluffing. My tell was that my eyes narrowed when I focused, like on a good hand, or on business when I have to deal with someone I didn’t want to deal with. I fought that now, desperate to not give anything away, despite the fact that I was feeling corn
ered as hell.
“’Fingers’ D’Marco?” I asked, cautious-like.
“That’s him. You know how he got that name?”
“Fingers?” I took a risk. “I don’t even know how you got the name ‘Dinky’.”
I saw Deanna’s eyes grow huge and she looked at her father and then at me. Dinky hated his nickname, but it’s the one he had and he was stuck with it. Besides, I’d always wanted to know.
“He got his name…” Dominic said in a voice that could freeze an open flame, “by sticking his fingers in everyone else’s pie. He ended up taking New Orleans, running it for us, for our families.”
Interesting that when he said “our”, his hand gestures hadn’t included him and me, but me and Deanna. “I take it something changed?”
“You could say that.” Dominic leaned back. “Normally, this would not be a problem, we would correct the situation. Hell, normally, the situation would correct itself. Manpower to go against us would be hard to find. But now…”
Silence lengthened. OK, so I knew he’d thrown me the line only to reel me in. Fine. I’d bite. “Now?”
“Now, there’s one family to run The Outfit. The death of your father and your brother have opened up a hole. There’s a gap now and Benny is just the first one to try and jump into it.”
The good news was that I was pretty quick. I could figure things out with very little information. The bad news? I couldn’t keep my mouth shut. It was pretty obvious though. In order to plug the hole that the Marcottis left, not only would I have to step in to take the place of my long-lost brother, but I would have to join the two families so that this didn’t happen again. There was one way I could think of to do that.
“So you’re planning to breed Deanna?” I tried to put that as bluntly and cruelly as I could. I heard a gasp off to my right and knew I’d hit my target. I didn’t dare look at her, I kept my focus on him. I saw an expression pass over his face that must have been the last expression a lot of guys ever saw on a man.
Then he sighed and relaxed, reached into his jacket pocket to pull out two cigars. I declined one that he replaced and watched as he took his time trimming and lighting the other. Only someone insane would have kept pushing at this point. I wasn’t that crazy. Yet.
“After all this time, Michael, I had hoped you’d grown up. I’ve about given up on this one.” He waved dismissively at his daughter. “And you and I both know Tony wasn’t going to win any Mensa awards. But you…” He took a careful puff and then pulled the cigar out to admire the lit end. “You I had hopes for.”
He shook his head a little and shifted, leaning forward a little. Smoke stung my eyes, the acrid smell filling my nostrils, reminding me of another conversation, one with my father years ago. He’d smoked the same damn cigars.
“I know you had problems, but you had a good family Michael, every chance for schools and clothing and food and leisure time. That came from The Outfit.” He shoved the stogie back between his lips and continued, “Benny is cutting us out, Michael, and he’s only the first. The D’Angelo name keeps most of them in line, but unless we have a unified front, we will lose them all, Michael, one by one.”
“So Deanna marrying me is going to solve all that?”
“People are dying, Michael,” he rasped. “Our people. People loyal to me and your father. You have a few days to mourn or however it is you want to mark the passing of your family, but we don’t have a lot of time, so don’t fuck around.”
I looked at Deanna who had the grace to blush. Let Dominic figure that one out.
Chapter 4
Deanna
Daddy’s great idea was to ‘give us some time together.’ It was the last thing I wanted, but then again it was a chance to be alone with Michael. I had some questions I just had to ask.
We slipped away as soon as we could. Frankly, I wanted to get him out of there before Michael gave Daddy a stroke.
“You shouldn’t bait him.” I was heading for the stairs, going up to my room. It was more habit than anything. Michael had spent half his childhood in my room, the other half was in his – with me. He stopped on the bottom step.
“Or what, he’ll have me killed?”
“I’m less thrilled about this than you are.” I was getting pissed, really pissed, but the truth was, Michael had always been a part of my life. It was like we married at age six and had been together forever. Except forever lasted fifteen years and it didn’t end well. Sure it was my fault, but prison sentences didn’t last this long and he was using it against me every time I saw him. It was like he couldn’t wait to blame me again.
Worse thing was, I never realized how much of a part of me he was until he wasn’t.
“I think he’s made the ‘or else’ pretty plain,” I said, staring into his eyes…getting lost for a moment. God, I’d forgotten how intense his eyes were. “Michael, did you…” My voice trailed away. I couldn’t find the words. Maybe there wasn’t any good way to ask what I needed to know, and frankly, maybe I didn’t want to know.
Yet, on the other hand, I needed to. Some secrets, they keep burning the longer you hold onto them. And this one had been smoldering for a long time. “Did you tell Tony about… us?”
His eyes narrowed. God, I hated that. His eyes always narrowed when he wasn’t happy about something, when he was hyper-focused like he was picking apart your words in his head. “I told your father I had.”
Argh. Fucking word games. “I mean about… how it ended.” Damn him for making me spell it out.
“No,” Michael said as flat and unemotional as I ever heard anyone.
“What did Tony say when you told him?”
“He didn’t say anything for a long time. Then he said he should have figured, the way we were always together. But that we’d split when we were still young, so he thought…”
“He thought we were too young to have sex before we broke up?” I asked, blinking. I knew Tony wasn’t the sharpest, but this?
“Yeah, before we ‘broke up.’” Michael actually used little air quotes around the words. I rolled my eyes.
“Yeah before I fucked everything up and ruined it all.” I just needed it said, needed it out there so it wasn’t still hanging over every moment. Michael was thinking it so loudly I could hear the thoughts in his head. Just shoot me and get it over with.
And who cared anyway? I wasn’t even sorry, that ship had sailed.
“Yeah,” Michael said, staring at a picture hanging on the wall. One of many. This one of me and my friends from college at some party. Tony in the background. “Something like that.”
“I told you I was sorry. I told you it was my fault, that I was to blame, I admitted it, you walked out on me. Enough, for God’s sake, it’s enough already! What the hell more do you want from me?”
He turned back toward me faster than I expected and I took an involuntary step backward. His eyes were dark. Angry. “Why were you going to marry my brother? And don’t give me that shit about one family and The Outfit. I want the truth if you’re still capable of doing that.”
“Just...because.” What business of it was his anyway? Tony was dead and gone, and maybe that made me sad on some level because honestly, he hadn’t deserved it. Michael had no business to question me like this. Sure I’d messed up, but he was the one who wasn’t going to let it go. My fists clenched at my side, fingernails digging into the palms of my hands. I was ready to tear into him, to pull him apart the way the last few years had torn at me. I wanted to strike back at him, to give him some the hurt he gave me. I just wanted it to be over, I wanted him to shut up once and for all.
And the fucking bastard wasn’t going to shut up until he got his answers, was he?
“Because Tony didn’t want me,” I ground out the words through gritted teeth. “He told me so. It was to be a marriage in name only. He didn’t… want me. And I didn’t want him.”
Could his eyes narrow any more? “What were you going to do about the chosen one?”
&nbs
p; “What? What do you mean?”
“The child that’s supposed to unite our families. If Tony wasn’t interested, how were you going to produce one?”
I shrugged. I didn’t really want to go into that. Not here. We were still on the stairs after all. Ten feet from Daddy Dearest’s doorway. The old bastard was probably listening at the door right now, taking in every word.
“Just…come upstairs,” I said when it looked like Michael wasn’t going to back down. “I’ll tell you. I don’t want to talk about this here.” I cocked my head in the general direction of the office.
“He can’t hear us.”
Seriously? Damn, he was stubborn.
“Maybe not, but Hudson can,” I tried to whisper, but it sounded petulant, pleading. I wanted to kick myself. I turned and walked. Fuck him if he doesn’t follow, but I will be thrice damned before I spill my guts in the middle of the landing.
I didn’t look behind, I just ran into my room and threw myself on the bed. I curled up against the pillows and wrapped an arm around my legs. It wasn’t being coy or scared. It was defiance. He strode through my door a moment later.
“Close the door,” I told him. I spent years hiding things from Daddy and subsequently from Hudson too. I’d had the door replaced one day when Hudson was off and Daddy was away. It was a solid-core door. I hung heavy rugs for tapestries, not because I have a strange decorating style, but because it deadened sound.
