Page 47 of Dreadful
I feign mild interest while they perform their small talk until a bottle of water appears in my periphery. The maid holding it is in the absurd Victorian-style uniform that my mother insists the staff wears. Its white cap adds to her demure demeanor, hiding her face, but I don’t think I’ve met this one before. I accept the bottle and open it, listening for the crisp break of the plastic seal. It doesn’t disappoint, so I nod at her and raise it like a toast.
“Thank you.” I wish I could get drunk at my uncle’s house, but being caught unaware here is the last thing I want to do, especially when he has guests.
She curtseys and shuffles away to the corner she’s stood in throughout the meal. One soft brown curl slips out of the back of her cap. Its bouncy, tight spiral reminds me of Tallie’s, and my heart aches.Cazzo, I can’t stop thinking about her.
The maid doesn’t have her generous curves, though, and she moves more stiffly and timidly than myviperaever could. She stays well away from the table as much as she can, which is perceptive, really, for someone who apparently only just started. Not to mention my uncle’s Italian mastiffs are vicious toward new people.
“He didn’t ask for water,” my mother snaps.
“You’ll reprimand someone for anticipating your guests’ needs?” I ask, unable to keep the irritation from my voice. My fingers drum against the handle of my cane before I realize the tell. I lean it back against the table beside me so it’s ready if I need it, but I’m also not broadcasting my irritation like a war drum.
My mother’s practiced expression breaks as she glares at me for a split second. The smile is back before I can blink.
“Of course not, but the agency has sent so much new help recently that I haven’t had time to properly train them—or vet them.” She doesn’t even bother to face the maid when she speaks again. “Youwaitto be summoned, girl. Or youwaitin the unemployment line.”
The maid nods without a word, but she slips her curled fists into the pockets of her dress.
I bite back my huff of laughter.
“Severino, be kind to your mother,” Claudio snaps.
He sits across from me at the head of the table, smacking his mouth around his food and tossing gristle to the monsters at his feet. Despite my uncle’s age, his light, clean-shaven skin hardly has any wrinkles. It’s as if his thin wisps of dark gray hair are so slicked back that it smooths his face. His colorless eyes narrow at me, and he stabs the air with his fork.
“I’m not in the mood for your attitude tonight, boy.”
He flings a piece of fat at his dogs and grins as they snarl and snap at each other over the measly scrap. I can barely see the chaos over the long, tall dining table, but I know one has conquered the others when two sharp yelps fill the room, making me, Dickie, and the maid jolt. Claudio chuckles, no doubt pleased that he got the reaction he wanted from everyone and everything in the room.
“Oh, don’t worry about Severino, dear. He has been very kind. Just yesterday he took me to see that musical. I had the most delightful time.”
“Yes, it was too bad you couldn’t go, uncle.”
“Maybe if I had, I wouldn’t be down a driver.”
“What’s that, now?” Dickie asks, drawing Claudio’s glare away from me. “Your driver quit? He’s been with you for ages, hasn’t he?”
“He didn’tquit,” Claudio grumbles. “You asked about business? Well, these are trying times, Judge. I’ve lost valuable employees, clients aren’t paying as reliably as they used to, and my enemies are increasing in number.”
“Business owners aren’t paying?” Dickie shakes his head. “Don’t they know who they’re dealing with?”
“You’d think. For most of them, all it takes is one visit to write the check. They just need to be scared straight to remind them what their protection fee is for.”
My chest tightens. The Amorettis’ bakery is in his jurisdiction. Have they been late paying?
I can’t see why. Their business is booming, with a line out the door every morning. I found that out today when I tried to stop by to see Tallie. Instead, Tony greeted me with a broad smile. How someone as surly and stubborn as Tallie could be raised by such a kind soul as Tony is a mystery to me. Granted, everything about Tallie is a mystery that I’m dying to unravel.
I put on a carefree tone even though my pulse is racing. “What does ‘scare them straight’ mean this time?”
Claudio waves his hand. “No concern of a soldier’s. I’ll get Vinnie to take care of it. If I can ever get a hold of him.”
My hand tightens around my steak knife as I cut like I’m actually going to eat a piece. Protection fees would be the first thing to go if I was in charge. I won’t need my own neighborhood’s money to “protect” them from rival families, I’ll have enough of my own. The sick truth is that Claudio does too, but he’s always been greedy. In the meantime, I need to tell Raze to go through Vinnie’s texts whenever he messages again. At least that way I’ll know what Claudio’s order is soon enough to stop it.
“The floral arrangement is beautiful, isn’t it, Judge?” my mother asks with an insistent, cheery edge in her voice. “I grew them myself and ordered the gardener to arrange the Tiffany vase.”
I focus on the flowers in the center of the table for the first time. Tall, magenta trumpet-shaped flowers mix with gorgeous unopened bulbs of purple petals so dark they look black in the ambient light.
“They are, Trudy. My wife would love them. Our gardener lacks the green thumb necessary for our desert home. You have quite the talent.”
“Oh, thank you, Richard.” She preens as if she didn’t draw the compliment out herself. “They’redigitalis purpurea, commonly known aspurple foxglove. And the rest…oh, well, it seems the new gardener has taken some liberties with the arrangement I designed. We’ll have to have a talk about that,” she murmurs the last part under her breath. “In any case, they are called—”
