Page 27 of The Associate

Fuck. He’d made it worse. Conor sent Gio a silent apology, his heart breaking at how Gio slumped in his seat.

“He’s right, you know.”

Conor’s throat closed, and he let out a weak gasp at the new voice entering the fray. A young woman with long brown hair, wearing faded hip-hugging jeans and a white peasant blouse, strode into the room like she owned it. Behind her, the housekeeper tottered and waved while scolding her in Italian.

The man called Aldo jumped from his seat, addressing the girl at the same time Salvatore waved away the older woman. Conor took from the cues of the melee before him that the girl, whom the men called Aggie, was the capo’s daughter.

“I overheard you talking to Ma this morning,” she was saying as she dug into her front jeans pocket. Aldo backed away, his chagrin palpable. Conor concluded a major breach of confidence had occurred if Aldo talked freely of family business in his own home. Aggie then glared at the don, defiant and brave. “I hear a lot of things,” she added, her voice like acid.

Don Salvatore, not a small man, straightened and towered over Aggie. “Young lady, you do not belong here.”

“Right. Themenare talking.” Aggie rolled her eyes, and Conor bit down on his lower lip to keep from laughing. The girl owned an impressive pair of brass balls, to sass an infamous crime boss to his face. Her presence took some heat off Conor, but he worried about how this interruption would affect him.

Aldo, as though recovering from his embarrassment, grasped at Aggie’s shoulders but she jerked away. “Not until I have my say,” she said, and raked her long, swaying hair behind her ears. She faced the don again. “Uncle Gus, if you want the family to survive you have to make concessions for inclusivity. Society is moving forward, and the longer you keep the San Gaetanos in the nineteenth-century, other families will walk all over us.”

The don chuckled, folding his arms. He glanced at Conor as though to ask,Can you believe this? Conor looked away, amazed by her words. She wasn’t advocating for the end of the mafia, but its evolution.Wild.

“What, dear? Are you saying we need one of those tweet pages to stay relevant?” Salvatore glared at his men, silently demanding their amused reaction to support him. Conor checked on Gio, who just stared.

“I am saying embrace diversity, Uncle Gus. Gio isn’t a unicorn. There are more queer people in the family than you realize,” Aggie said. “Women, too. We’re capable of more than increasing the population and making sandwiches.”

Salvatore warned off Aldo with a short wave when the man came forward again. “When have I ever called women inferior and incapable?”

“Friday night at dinner, for starters? Not in so many words, but your antiquated attitude speaks volumes.” Aggie then turned toward Gio as though seeking his corroboration. Receiving a blank look, she sighed and held up a stubby thumb drive. “Speaking oftweet pages, this contains video evidence of many conversations held in my house. Stuff you wouldn’t want going viral.”

That got theconsigliereon his feet, shouting along with Aldo as they grabbed for the device. Aggie spoke over them, claiming to have several copies of said footage scattered throughout the coast. She issued a harsh threat. “Something happens to me or any of the Bertinellis, all your secrets are spilled,” she said. She swung her arm in an arc from Conor to Gio. “Them, too, and the Malloys. All it takes to make this go away is to open your mind, Uncle Gus. Being an old cishet male shouldn’t be the only requirement to hold a position of importance among your ranks.”

The room fell silent, save for collective heavy breathing. Conor counted the seconds, stretching in his mind, before Uncle Gus’s blustering settled into deep-voiced laughter. Chucking Aggie under the chin, a patronizing gesture the girl did not seem to appreciate, he said, “You are a crafty one. Must get it from your old man.”

“Maybe I get it from my mother.” Aggie raised her brow. She dropped the thumb drive in Don Salvatore’s curved palm. “You can have this one. Destroying it won’t erase the others, by the way.”

“I’m old, Agatha, not stupid.” He nodded for Conor and Gio to stand. “Mr. Malloy, we will revise our offer to accommodate your request. Myconsiglierewill reach out to your attorney before the end of the day.”

Conor breathed without the weight of worry on his chest. “Thank you.” He shook hands with the don and bowed at the man’s second.

“Gio.” Salvatore brushed past Aggie and came up to Gio, hands raised in a conciliatory gesture. “Despite your predilections, you have an exemplary service record.”

Gio bowed his head. Conor sensed the disappointment. The don’s words sounded like a prelude to rejection.

“It’s something I will take into consideration as we further discuss your future,” Salvatore said, and turned to his underlings. “We’ll be in touch.”

Gio murmured something in Italian, presumably his thanks, and took the cue for his dismissal. Conor wanted to ask about Vic, andhisfuture with the San Gaetanos. An unwise move, he decided. Gio was walking out of here unscathed. Conor, too, and that was enough for now.

Conor held his breath as he followed Gio toward the door, pausing with him when Aggie spoke.

“Uncle Gus? I have more ideas I’d like to share with you if you have a moment.”

The girl’s father appeared to force a smile. Conor figured it must have humbled the man to see his daughter take charge of the room. If anything, Conor thought, Aldo Bertinelli ought to take pride in the confident girl he raised. Don Salvatore allowing her to stay surely marked a turning point for the family.

No sooner than he and Gio left the room, the door closed behind them. Just like in the movies, life imitating art. He hoped in his case, a happy ending loomed.

Gio walked side by side with Conor up the hallway, following the housekeeper who escorted them to the door. Outside, he released his breath with a shuddering laugh and looked out at the busy street. People across the way walked their dogs, others sat out on their stoops. Cars whizzed past in either direction—a typical day, and Gio felt as though he’d walked out of prison.

“Are you okay?” Conor asked him, sounding concerned.

Gio nodded. “I suppose I’m free, in a sense,” he said. “I no longer have to hide who I am, but I’m sure my bosses will impose new rules upon me.” Shoving his hands in his pants pockets, he ambled down the steps with Conor. “The San Gaetanos won’t be sponsoring a float in the next Pride parade with me waving to the crowds, I’m sure. I might not get made because of this, but so long as the family homophobes leave me to my work, I’ll be fine.”

“You’re not alone, Gio.”

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