Page 27 of Wild Card

“What about the ransom?”

He bristles in a way only people close to him can see.

“I’m working with the police who have advised me not to discuss that matter with the media.”

“Well, sir, we’re all praying for Catriona’s safe return to you.”

“Thank you, Kim. My family has been so grateful for the open, loving support of the community. I know some people were unhappy about the casino, but seeing how even some of my biggest critics have reached out during this difficult time has been really moving.”

“Of course, Mr. Carney. We’ll bring you any updates as we have them. Back to you, John.”

Ah, and there’s the spin.

I turn the television off.

“He’s a piece of work.”

I jump at Gio’s voice behind me.

“Seems really fucking worried.” He puts a small protein shake on the table.

I pick up the cool glass and hold it against one of the bruises on my face. It’s soothing, and I close my eyes.

“I don’t know how our families connect,” I say. “Is that okay to ask?”

He’s quiet for so long I’m afraid I’ve made him angry. I go to apologize, and he waves it off.

“My parents owned a bakery. DeLuca’s Breads and Fine Pastries. In the North End. Your father bought it out from my family after he framed them for money laundering.”

He’s such a despicable coward. Always doing things in sneaky, conniving ways.

“Oh. I’m sorry. When did it happen?”

“Seventeen years ago.”

I was only twelve then. Gio couldn’t have been much older.

I want to ask how my father was responsible for their deaths, but I’m afraid to go there.

“I wasn’t allowed to eat pastries,” I muse.

My brain just keeps the brilliant lines coming.

“Why not?” He sits on the couch.

“My mother controlled her daughters’ diets rigidly. Didn’t want us getting out of shape and ruining our marriageability or whatever.”

“Shame your father destroyed my family and didn’t even let you have at least one cannoli.”

“I’ve never had a cannoli before.”

“Jesus your family is fucked up. Drink the shake. I promise it doesn’t have any added sugar.”

Look who’s talking about fucked up families. I scowl at him and drink a little, waiting for my stomach to settle.

“Would you ever consider reopening it? The bakery I mean?”

His body tenses.

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