Page 26 of Mabilia

“If I scared him off, he’s not worth your time to begin with,” Papa counters.

“He’s a good guy. Why can’t you just let me live my life?” I whine before turning to my mother. “Mom, tell them to stop.”

“Invite him over for dinner. I want to meet him,” she says, and I’m reminded she’d probably do worse than my father or grandfather.

“He’s a punk,” Nonno says. “Why you gotta be interested in some punk-ass kid anyway? You’re young,bella. Have you thought about girls?”

“I have actually. But I like Tommy. So leave him alone. Or you’re all going to end up looking like him.” I point to my brother, who is still sporting his patchy bleached hair.

“It’s a new look. It’s growing on me.” Neo shrugs.

“You’re an idiot,” I tell him in Italian. Our parents have always encouraged us to use all three languages as much as possible.

My phone dings with a message from Tommy.

Tommy:

Don’t worry, babe. I’d never bet you.

He’d never bet me.What does that mean?

“Everyone shut up,” I tell the table and hit dial on Tommy’s number.

“Morning,” he answers in a surprisingly upbeat tone.

“What do you mean you would never bet me?” I ask him.

“Exactly that. I told your father and grandfather as much last night. I don’t wager things I’m not prepared to lose,” he says.

“So I was put up as a wager?” I attempt to clarify. I see my dad remove the knife from my mother’s place setting and I know instantly that I was.

“Uh, it’s fine, Mabilia. Don’t worry about it. I didn’t bet you,” Tommy insists.

“What exactly was said at that game last night?” I question him.

“I don’t want to cause issues between you and your family. It was just a poker game, babe.”

“If you don’t tell me, you and I are going to have issues,” I threaten.

“Okay, your father offered to play me. If he won, I would have to leave you alone and act like I never met you. But I said no, Mabilia. I wouldn’t do that,” Tommy says.

“I’ll call you back.” I hang up the phone right before all hell breaks loose.

My mother calmly stands from the table. She narrows her glare at my father. Unwavering and unblinking. “Sleep with one eye open, Mikhail. This time, I’ll make sure to hit an artery so you bleed out quickly.”

“Isabella, it wasn’t like that,” Papa says, his tone calm and placating.

“It wasn’t like that?” she repeats, her tone… well, not either of those things. “You went to play a poker game where you planned to use your daughter as leverage.”

“I wasn’t going to lose,” Papa says.

“How would you know that?” Mom asks. “It’s a game of luck. A literal gamble!”

“I had it fixed,” Papa explains. “If the little punk would have just played, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

“I’m going to school. You should be ashamed, Papa. Because for the first time in my life, I’m ashamed to be your daughter. Of all the people in the world, I didn’t think you’d betray me like this,” I tell him, a tear running down my cheek.

“I didn’t betray you. I am protecting you,” he claims.

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