Page 1 of Gin & Trouble

1

Dante

Shaking hands?Check.

Twitchy eyes? Check.

Inability to sit still, follow a football game, or think of anything but her?

Check, check, and double-freaking-check.

That’s it. I’m addicted to Julia. Or maybe I need to learn to meditate. Hmm…I wonder if Julia meditates?

“Earth to Dante?” My brother, Gabe, plopped down beside me on the oversized couch. “Dude, what the hell is wrong with you? The Saints just got a first down.”

“It’s Thanksgiving. After dinner naps are mandatory.” Ignoring him and the rest of my family gathered in the den to watch the game, I leaned my head back and closed my eyes.

I wonder if Julia is taking a nap. In bed. Naked.

“Nice try, but you can’t claim turkey coma this year. We barely touched it.” He glanced toward the kitchen, likely to make sure his wife wasn’t listening. “I’m ready for a pizza. That Chinese food wore off about ten minutes after we cleared the table.”

“Maggie will murder you in your sleep if you order more take out.” I felt bad for him. Hell, I felt bad for all of us, but mostly, I felt bad for Maggie.

“Nah, she loves me too much to knock me off.” He raised his chin but the crinkle between his eyes told me he had his doubts.

“Maybe, or maybe she doesn’t want to raise five kids on her own.” I couldn’t resist giving him a hard time—as the baby of the family, it was my job.

“True, but you have to admit. Nothing, and I mean nothing, spoils Thanksgiving more than an overcooked turkey.”

I dropped my voice to a conspirator’s tone. “Her soggy oyster dressing is a close second.”

As if the memory was too much to bear, he shuddered. “There’s pie.”

I couldn’t imagine how Maggie could have screwed up putting a frozen dessert in the oven, but where there’s a will… “Is it edible?”

“Only one way to find out.”

I followed Gabe to the kitchen, but when he turned to face me, his serious expression told me I’d been lured away from the rest of the family under false pretenses. “What’s up?”

“This year is… It doesn’t feel like Thanksgiving.” He leaned against the counter and gave me his best concerned-big-brother look. “You okay?”

My chest tightened to the point I struggled to breathe. “I’m fine. Ma is in Sicily taking care of Pops. They’d be here if they could.”

“They aren’t the only ones missing.” Gabe was as subtle as an airhorn.

Our parents’ absence was only the sour topping on the shit flavored pie. We’d see them over Christmas. Our older brother Joe was another story.

Grief washed over me like storm surge from a Cat-five hurricane, but I tried to play it cool by changing the subject to yet another brother. “Marco would be here, but he’s busy running one fifth of the—”

“Business. He’s running the business.” Gabe’s voice rose to the point he glanced back toward the family room as if to make sure no one had overheard him.

“Right.” I got it. I did. We didn’t use words like mafia or mob or the Cosa Nostra in mixed company. But I didn’t want to get into murders and orphaned kids and the black hole in my heart.

Gabe got that far away expression we all had when thinking about Joe. “I can’t believe it’s been three years. It’s bullshit what they say about time healing all wounds.”

I clamped a hand on his shoulder and put my face in his line of vision. “Are you sureyou’reokay?”

“I’d be better with some pizza.” He laughed a humorless laugh that told me he’d lied, or at least said the right thing for my benefit.

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