Page 170 of Rosetti Family New York
“You’ll be fine,” I tell her.
For some reason, the image of her grief-stricken face last night in my bed makes me want to reassure her, soothe her. Don’t know why I give a damn.
The bike roars to life, and we’re off. The wind stings, and I feel her grip tighten. We weave through the streets, the city waking up around us. She’s light against my back, warm and alive. It’s too easy to imagine her with me, to pretend this isn’t just a ride home.
Williamsburg comes fast. I pull up in front of an old apartment building, the kind with a broken buzzer and peeling paint. Bad security. The Callahans could waltz in here any time they want.
She climbs off, and I watch her fumble with the helmet. I don’t help her. I don’t trust myself to get that close.
“Thanks,” she says, handing it back.
“Yeah.”
She looks at me, searching for something. I don’t know what she finds, but it makes her smile, just a little. It’s enough to make me wish I could stay.
“Take care of yourself,” I say.
She nods. “You too.”
I watch her head inside. This is the end, I tell myself. The last time I’ll ever see her.
Yeah right.
I kick the bike to life and tear down the street, back into a world that shouldn’t include her. But it does.
She’s the first thing I think of when I hit the bridge. She’ll probably be the last thing I think of when I get home.
Nanna’s house is an explosion of noise and breakfast. Voices and the smell of eggs crash into each other. I stand near the door, feeling oddly out of place. Carmela sees me and makes a beeline over, all smiles and too much energy.
“Rafe, hon! Sit and eat before it gets cold!”
She’s in my face, and Dom’s behind her, already asking about the fighting ring.
I don't have time for this. I barely have time to drop my leather jacket on the back of a chair before she shoves a plate at me.
Carmela hovers, looking at me with those big, innocent eyes.
“You need to eat, okay?” She calls everyone "hon." She’s like a ray of sunshine in a house full of storm clouds.
“Alright,” I say.
It’s the most she ever gets out of me. I sit down, eggs swimming in grease. The table’s full. Emilio with his eyes glued to a laptop, Matteo flipping that coin, Nanna’s voice rising over everything.
Dom’s the loudest one. Not his voice. His presence. He’s all business, always is.
"Lower East Side's been quiet," Dom says. "Our arrangement with the Chinatown crews is holding up."
"Unlike the shit show in Red Hook," Matteo adds, his coin still moving between his fingers. "Callahans are pushing their dealers into our territory again."
"The construction contracts in Midtown are more important," Dom replies, his tone making it clear the matter is settled. "We need those buildings finished on schedule. Mayor's office is watching those projects closely."
Nanna Toni gives Dom a sharp look. "Your father would never let territory slip. Not even for fancy contracts."
"Times change, Nanna," Dom says, his voice firm but respectful. "The real money isn't in street corners anymore." He turns to me. "Rafe, what do you know about the fighting ring?”
“He doesn’t know how to fight, that’s for sure,” Matteo butts in. He grins like the devil and steals half the eggs off my plate.
“Give it a rest,” Emilio says without looking up. “You can only bullshit if you’ve got a brain.”
