by Gina LaManna
“Hello, dear,” Nora said. “Can you believe it? I told Carlos again and again that he had to warn me twenty minutes before you arrived, and not a moment later.” She tsked, looking at her husband. “And now look. You’re here already, and I missed the surprise party.”
“Oh,” I said, suddenly realizing what Carlos had meant. He’d purposely omitted notifying his wife of my arrival once he’d been alerted that something was wrong. And he wanted to protect her from the nitty gritty details of my entrance to the party. I smiled. “Don’t worry, I was surprised – and I appreciate all of the effort you put into planning the party.”
Nora gave a glowing smile, her fire engine red hair spiked up as high as it could possibly reach. She had childish, light-blue sunglasses perched on her nose. The frames were made from cheap plastic and formed in the shape of stars. The dark lenses were completely unnecessary indoors, but that didn’t stop my grandmother.
And her festive spirit didn’t stop with the shades; her lacquered nails boasted patriotic colors in the form of the American flag, and she had little diamonds stuck to the sides of her eyes, just beside the well-worn laugh lines.
If she wasn’t the picture of youth, I didn’t know who was. I caught myself hoping for half the spunk of my grandmother when I really turned thirty. She was something else.
“Of course, darling,” she said. “It was nothing; I’d do anything for you. Now – I have red wine, blue jello shots and white, well – more wine. Help yourself.”
“Thank you, Auntie Nora,” I said, leaning in and kissing both of her cheeks. “You’re the best.”
Flushing, she gestured towards the table. I took that as my cue to claim the only open space, next to Anthony. Nora bustled around for a moment, making sure everyone had full drinks.
“Can I get you anything, dear?” she asked Oleg.
“How am I supposed to drink it if I’m tied to the chair?” he asked.
“No need to be snippy,” Nora said, standing in front of my capture with a hand on her hip. “Please and thank you go a long way, you know. Try this: Please, Carlos, may I be untied so I can drink some wine?”
“Please, Carlos, may I be untied so I can drink some wine?” Oleg said, the sweetness in his voice so contrived it grinded on my ears.
“No,” my grandfather said bluntly.
“Well, it was worth a shot,” Nora said. “The worst he could’ve said was no.”
“He did say no,” Oleg retorted.
“Well, maybe next time you should mind your attitude,” Nora said, turning her nose up and punching her glasses higher on her face. “Pleases and thank yous must be genuine, dear.”
The simple act of sitting next to Anthony had a calming effect on me. Whether it was his own calm demeanor, or the way his hand brushed subtly against my leg, or the fact that he looked like he might punch anyone who said a mean word in my direction, I couldn’t say. All I could say was that I liked it.
“So, can I get some answers?” I asked. “I have a few pending questions.”
“How about some meatballs?” Nora piped up.
“Answers first,” I said. “Please.”
“See?” Nora waved the ladle at Oleg. “See what happens when this beautiful young woman uses her manners correctly? Of course, dear. I’ll just pour you some wine. Though I wish you wouldn’t discuss business at dinner on your birthday.”
I shugged. “Business doesn’t wait.”
“Fine, fine,” Nora said, pouring drinks all around. “Well, I’ll leave you all to chat. I have to put on my sparkly tinsel eyelashes before the next surprise.”
“Oh, goodness me,” I murmured. “More surprises. Lovely.”
“You’ll love it,” Nora said, her eyes twinkling so much she didn’t need even a stitch of help from tinsel. “Trust me.”
I turned to Carlos as my grandmother left the room. “So, who’d like to start talking?”
“Me,” Meg said, to my surprise. “It was my idea and my fault. I told you in the car – all of that was true.”
“Right. So the general gist is that you threatened everyone so that nobody would wish me a happy birthday or say a word to spoil the surprise,” I said.
“Yes,” she said, wincing. “I didn’t realize how much it would hurt you when you thought everyone had forgotten your birthday. You seemed so adamant you didn’t want a party, I just thought...I just wish your birthday was July 5th because this would never have happened.”
“It’s all right,” I said. “So you talked to Carlos and Anthony?”
“And me,” Clay piped in, as Meg nodded. Clay leaned on his elbows. “I helped. I made the website for the food critic, got the address for Dave’s Special Sauce from Anthony, and helped execute the plan. Carlos didn’t have a huge part in it, except to give you the assignment. That’s something nobody else could do.”
“I didn’t want to,” Carlos said. “I wanted to wish you a happy birthday like a normal person, but your friends didn’t believe that would be enough. They wanted to make it the best birthday ever.”
“So why did you go along with it?” I asked.
Carlos shifted from one side of his chair to the other, taking a long drag of limoncello. “It’s your first birthday with the Family. I wanted you to be pleased.”
That was the closest Carlos had ever come to saying he loved and cared about me; I was incredibly, deeply touched. Thankfully, I managed to hold my tears back by taking a long, deep swig of wine. The tasty cabernet warmed my throat and started a small burn in my stomach, and I took another swig to keep the sensation coming. My confidence level – and brashness level – rose considerably.
“So you agreed to the fake assignments,” I said. “And the plan was to pretend as if I’d solved them.”
“That way you’d be able to relax on your real birthday,” Anthony said. “You would’ve solved the cases, we would’ve told you to forget about Dave’s Special Sauce, and nobody would’ve been the wiser. But when a real issue came up at the warehouse, I...” Anthony shook his head. “I froze. I wanted to tell you the truth, but I—”
“I threatened—” Meg jumped in.
“I know what you threatened,” I said. “And it wasn’t pleasant.”
“Not at all,” Meg said shaking her head, a pleased expression on her face. “And I would’ve carried it out, too.”
The noise Anthony made to my right resembled a growl, but I pressed on. “What else am I missing?”
“I faked the food critic,” Clay said. “But you’re too good at your job. You called my bluff, so I had to quickly create a website. And when you called him in front of me I knew that clearly wasn’t enough. I contacted the critic you looked up and politely asked if he’d call you. I asked him to tell you he’d forgotten about his encounter with Dave.”
“By ‘politely asked,’ I assume you mean strong-armed and threatened intensely,” I said sarcastically. “I feel overwhelmed by the amount of threats needed to make sure my surprise birthday party went off without a hitch.”
“You’re a special woman,” Anthony murmured.
I wanted to ask what he meant by that, but I wasn’t done piecing together parts of the puzzle. I tilted my head towards Oleg. “What about him? What’s he got to do with it?”
“He was...unplanned,” Anthony said.
“An accident,” Meg added.
“Unexpected,” Clay contributed.
“Wow, I feel so special,” Oleg said.
“Then help us understand what your deal is,” I said, tapping my fingers on the table.
Anthony held up a finger, however. Voices sounded in the hallway, and conversation ceased as Anthony stood up from the table, his posture not quite threatening, but calculated and alert. His hand hovered near his gun, and his shoulders stiffened with attention.
The swinging door jumped open as Nora appeared, followed closely by Horatio.
“They’re in here,” Nora was saying. “Do you want something to drink, dear? You said you’re a frien
d of Clay’s?”
Horatio, however, stopped dead in his tracks as he made eye contact with Oleg. “You,” Horatio said, the venom apparent in his voice. “What are you doing here?”
“Family ties,” Meg said, shaking her head. “The darndest thing.”
All eyes in the room swiveled to look at Meg, then just as quickly swiveled back towards the set of brothers. The two men stared at each other, equally enraged. They were oblivious to the rest of us.
“Someone?” I asked. “Anyone? Explain, please.” There was a silence as the brothers argued silently over who would talk first.
Finally they both spoke at once.
Though when they spoke, they both uttered the same word. “Traitor.”
I eyed Clay. “You have got to stop making such controversial friends. I don’t enjoy your friends taking me hostage on my birthday.”
“You should watch who you date, then,” Clay shot back. “If you can date bad guys, I can be friends with one or two. Plus, Horatio’s not a bad guy – it’s his brother.”
My back stiffened, and I could sense Anthony’s attention now directed our way.
“Excuse me?” I retorted.
“You’ve gone on more than one date with a person who was...” Clay glanced at the two brothers. “Less than perfect.”
“Fine,” I agreed with a wave of my hand. “But whatever you’re doing on the Internet to meet people like Horatio—”
“There’s nothing wrong with Horatio,” Clay said vehemently. “Just because his brother is a bad egg, doesn’t mean that he is. What if you were responsible for every action of your family?”
The quiet that descended on the room was in part menacing and in part thoughtful. He had a point, and I was jumping to conclusions. Assuming things didn’t get me very far, so it was time to stop assuming.
“I’m not a bad egg,” Oleg said, breaking the silence. “It’s this one who left our family. He stuck close by mommy after his daddy died.”
“Someone had to be there for her,” Horatio said. “When dad died, do you know what grandmother did to give us the chance to get out of there?”
“Out of where?” I asked.
“Their family is an old name in the Russian Mafiya,” Carlos said, shocking everyone into silence with his even voice. “Their father was a particularly brutal leader and extremely high up in the ranks. He was killed by one of his own.”
“The other families said he was a traitor, just like my brother, here,” Oleg spat. “But he wasn’t. He was just fair.”
“He wasn’t fair. He took joy in punishing people,” Horatio said. “The other members of his own family killed him because he was a bad man.”
Oleg shook his head, a twisted smile playing at his lips. “Even his own son turning against him. Who would’ve thought?”
“You know them?” I asked, much more interested in Carlos’s connection with members of a rival family.
“I did,” Carlos said. “And I still know Anastasia well. She came to me when her son died – when Oleg and Horatio’s father died. Their mother had, sadly, died long before. Anastasia was all they had left.”
“She’s a confused old woman,” Oleg said, kicking his feet against the floor so his rocking chair began to creak.
“Silence!” Carlos said. The heaviness in the room felt as if he’d roared his command, when it’d merely been a whisper. “Anastasia is a smart woman wrapped up with the wrong people. She has your best interests at heart, and if she didn’t, she would’ve never come to me and asked for help. You should be ashamed.”
Oleg’s eyes were trained on the floor, but I couldn’t tell if he was reflecting on Carlos’s words or ignoring them.
“Why did Anastasia come to you?” I asked.
Carlos trained his sharp eyes on me. He paused to take a breath and study my face for a moment before speaking. “Because she knew I was a powerful man in America. I could get her what she needed.”
“But she was Russian and you’re...you’re Italian,” I said, finishing the sentence lamely. I knew what I wanted to say, but the words didn’t quite come out the way I’d intended. It’d sounded much more eloquent in my head.
“Sometimes human needs transcend the boundaries of our family name,” Carlos said. “Especially when the lives of your children are at stake.”
I swallowed and nodded. Carlos, despite his tough face and questionable work ethics, had morals deep down. I just knew it; maybe I had to scratch and dig and go spelunking beneath the cold exterior of the mob boss’s façade, but it was there. He’d helped out a grandmother in need despite her former loyalties, and for that, I was proud.
“Anastasia loves your grandfather,” Horatio said. At all of our confused expressions, he quickly waved his hand and backtracked. “Not loves, loves. She loves him like I love Batman. Like a superhero. Carlos brought my grandmother, me, and my brother over from Russia when we were just kids. He didn’t ask for anything from us, except that we didn’t rejoin the Mafiya once we were here. A simple task, right?”
Oleg looked down at his feet.
“For some of us, it was,” Horatio said, and I could hear the sad bitterness in his voice. It was no longer the dripping venom from before, but a disappointed sigh. “Grandmother and I tried the best we could. We’ve called the cops on him and had him arrested. He’s been in and out of jail. We gave him money and sent him to college, but he dropped out. We took the money away and he found other ways to get it. I don’t know what to do anymore.”
“Horatio, no offense,” I said. “But how can we know for sure that we can trust you?”
Horatio’s mouth opened and closed as if unsure how to answer the question.
“I trust him,” Clay said, his voice firm and his jaw set, as if daring me to argue with him.
“And I trust Anastasia,” Carlos said. “Horatio is telling the truth, Lacey.”
I nodded. “Good enough for me, I just wanted to make sure after this whole fiasco.”
Horatio gave a nervous smile. “I met Clay through—”
“Online, a while ago,” Clay said, cutting off whatever Horatio had to say.
Horatio took the cue and didn’t expand, which only piqued my curiosity more as to Clay’s online habits. “I didn’t realize who he was in relation to Carlos for the longest time. After all, we only have usernames online, and Clay’s name was—”
“Nothing of importance,” Clay burst in.
“Right,” Horatio said. “We eventually met in person, and when I heard his name, I couldn’t believe he was one of the Luzzi clan. When I met you the other day, Lacey, I was just trying to be helpful, I promise. You were going towards Stillwater and my grandmother lives there. I knew she’d be happy to see any granddaughter of Carlos’s and return a small portion of his favor to us if possible.”
I fought hard against rolling my eyes. “But she knowingly sent me to her grandson’s house, who she knew was wrapped up in bad business.”
“She didn’t know what was going on,” Horatio said. “She would’ve never sent you if she’d known it would become this big of a problem. She just wanted to scare Oleg a little bit; the cops and jail didn’t work, and neither did sending him to school or giving him money. I’m sure she thought that the threat of the Luzzi name getting involved could put a fire under his butt...”
I looked to Carlos, Anthony, Clay, and finally back at Horatio. “But he didn’t know my name.”
“Yes,” Horatio cringed. “Which was a problem. To this day, Oleg has been involved with small, small projects. Nobody from the Russian Mafiya trusts him – at least back home. Not after what our father has done.”
“But here in America it’s different?” I asked.
“Yes,” Horatio said. “Though in a different way. We changed our names and destroyed our past, but that means no criminal worth his two cents trusts him here, either. Nobody trusts newcomers. You should know that, Lacey.”
“Why didn’t she just tell me to show up at his door and say that
the Luzzis had their eyes on him?” I asked. “In exchange, she’d make the sauce that Carlos loves so much.”
“She thought it would be a simple matter,” Horatio said. “And she didn’t have permission yet from Carlos to explain the family connection.”
Horatio’s eyes flicked towards Carlos.
“Why wasn’t it an easy task?” I asked, looking between the brothers.
“That, I’m not sure. I don’t keep up with my brother’s extracurricular activities, and I don’t know what he’s been up to lately. Apparently he’s no longer a messenger boy.”
“Who do you work for?” I asked Oleg. “Who was that man from the car? Is he Russian?”
“No,” Oleg said, his eyes blazing with anger. “He is not Russian. He’s not anything. He’s...he’s a bad man.”
“What do they call him?” I asked.
Oleg took a deep, shuddering breath. “They call him ‘The Fish’.”
There was a small giggle from Meg, and a collectively confused noise from everyone else.
“The Fish?” I asked.
“Something got lost in translation there,” Meg said. “Didn’t anyone tell him that when you pick a criminal name it should be something menacing? Like a sabretooth tiger-bird or something awesome like that.”
“That’s not a real animal,” Oleg said.
“But it sounds badass,” Meg retorted. “The Fish just sounds like...”
“He’s slippery,” Anthony said. “And to date, hasn’t managed to be caught.”
“You know about him?” I asked Anthony.
Anthony reclaimed his seat next to me, leaving Horatio leaning against the fridge. Nora had ducked out of the room almost as soon as she’d entered, probably to finish the gluing of her eyelashes in place.
Looking at me, he quickly took stock of the occupants of the room and guarded his words. “Do you remember the contents of my cup holder?”
The gun. “Yes,” I said quietly.
“He’s the mastermind behind that issue. He’s been after us for years. However, five years ago he ran into a, um, setback of sorts. This is the first time he’s resurfaced since,” Anthony said as an explanation. “Carlos?”
