Page 85 of Worship
A strangled breath escapes Matteo’s mouth; he wants to tear the walls down and can’t. Vin puts his hand on the back of his neck.
“Keep it together. You need to hold on to the rage. We’ll make them pay. All of them.” Matteo straightens, and his jaw twitches against his resolve.
Nico stands and brings his hands down to the table.
“They all knew—they all come from the same sick fucking loyalty. Can anyone here really say that his father wasn’t cruel or evil? Crimes against other men, that’s what we signed up for. That’s the life. We protect our communities, our women, and our culture, but they leave a smudge over it, a blank space where there should be honor. I want it done. Ended.”
He looks around at the others, and everyone moves to stand.
I rise from my chair.
“We’ve all been groomed into this life, and it’s fucked us up, but we have the chance to make it different. We’ll always be criminals, but ‘famiglia’ means something to me, and I know it does to you too. You’re all my brothers, and I would lay my life down for you. Will you do the same for me? Because now I have to protect Ella and Gretchen. I won’t see them hurt.”
Yeses fill the room. I take the glass in my hand, raising it to the middle of table.
“Then we cut the head off the snake and burn the body.”
Each man lifts his glass, and we drink to the death and destruction that will come from our hands.
Normalized is a funny word, because it can apply to anything. We toasted to our intention for Giovanni’s death and then sat and ate dinner like normal men. I suspect in many ways we are, but violence isnormalizedto us.
Nobody feels unsure, scared, regretful. This is how we’ve grown up, and although Dominic and I got the furthest away, it’s woven into our psyche—fuck, maybe even our DNA.
That’s the biggest reason I’ve hesitated to bring Gretchen all in. Once I lift the veil to the realities of the world she lives in, she’ll always feel a little less safe and a little more scared. But she’s already “less safe,” and I know I don’t have a choice.
I just have to figure out a way to get her to hear me out without running away. She promised me a conversation the last time we spoke, but she hasn’t answered any of my calls.
Mario meets me at the front and pats my cheeks.
“You’re family to us, Luca. Please don’t stay away again for so long.”
“I promise. I’ll bring Ella so Sophia can ignore us both.” I laugh, and he claps his hands together as we’re interrupted by the delivery kid.
“Sorry, Mr. King, but Mario, I need the extra calamari for Gretchen’s order. You know she hates when I forget.”
He looks at me apologetically and back to Mario.
Mario laughs and nods.
“Yes, yes. Beautiful woman, monumental temper when she’s hungry,” he says to me and excuses himself, walking into the kitchen.No fucking way. This is a hell of a sign from God.
“Give me the bag, kid.”
He looks at me, confused.
“This is going to Gretchen Andrews?” I ask, pointing to the bag of food he’s holding, and he nods, still confused. I pull out my wallet and peel off three hundred-dollar bills.
“Here,” I say, handing him the money. “She’ll forgive you for the missing extra calamari. I’ll make sure of it.”
He hands me the bag and smiles, and I turn and walk out of the restaurant.
MY WHOLE DAY WAS AMAZING, except for the minute-by-minute recap my head kept doing of the entire conversation, sex, and fight I had with Luca a few nights ago.
This has become my regular. I kick ass at work and overanalyze my entire life when I get home.
My cell rings and I see Drew’s name but send it to voicemail. I do this to everyone lately. Even Luca. I don’t want to answer and reassure her I’m fine or hash it out with him. All I want to do is drink a very large glass of wine, eat some food, and watch some shit television.
I scroll through my numbers and dial Mama’s Italian restaurant, waiting as the phone rings.
