Page 17 of Malicious Wedding

“Who, exactly, is your brother working for?”

I hesitate, looking down at my drink. But screw it, I don’t owe Carson any loyalty. “The Crowley family is basically a mafia organization. Except don’t call them mafia, because that’s an Italian thing. Basically, they’re just Irish organized crime, except they’re richer and more powerful than the mayor. These guys are deeply,deeplyconnected, and my whole stinking family was absolutely obsessed with them, like to an unhealthy degree.”

“Organized crime,” Bernie says, staring at the two thugs. “They’re kind of hot for gangsters.”

“Stop it.” I shove the whiskey away. “Don’t let me drink.”

She shoves it back. “Just the one. Down the hatch, go on now.”

I glare at her but oblige. “There’s a reason I cut my family off. They were all in the organization, all my uncles, even their wives to some extent. Even my mother, back before she passed. Well, not directly, but they supported the men.”

“Mob wives. I know all about those from that Bravo show.”

I roll my eyes. “It’s not like that.”

“Isn’t it?”

I hesitate. “Well, fewer ugly dresses at least.” I hesitate again. “Okay, well, maybe the ugly dresses too. God, you should see a family wedding sometime.”

“Sounds like there won’t be many of those anymore,” Bernie says and slaps her hands over her mouth. “Oh, fuck. I’m sorry.”

I stare down at my empty glass. “It’s okay,” I say in a small voice. Meanwhile, Bernie’s joke cut me deep, but I know she didn’t mean anything by it. “I’m okay.”

“We’ll get you through this.” Bernie grabs my hands and squeezes. “I promise. Seriously. We’re your family now.”

I blink back tears, nodding. “More whiskey?”

Bernie drops my hands. “You hit your limit, sweets.”

“You’re not my real mom!”

She cackles and walks off, leaving me to sit and stew on my own. After a little while, I start feeling better, so I stop by the table of Carson’s guys. “Just so you two know, I don’t want you in here.” I put my hands on my hips.

They study me with some amusement. “That so?” the older one asks, a man with gray hair and a crooked nose. He looks like a retired boxer. “Guess that’s a shame, because we aren’t leaving.”

“Tell your boss his services aren’t needed.” I turn and march off.

Bastards. All of them, bastards. I find a reserve of anger and ride that for the next few hours, throwing myself into work. I think I annoy Bernie and Fulco with how helpful I’m being, but we make it to closing relatively unscathed.

“No afterhours tonight,” Jamila announces.

“Aw, come on, Jams,” Keely begs. “My hangover’s almost gone!”

“You two are too young.” Fulco glares at them.

“Was that an insult?” Jamila asks, sounding genuinely unsure.

Bernie walks me outside. I order an Uber and she stands with me as we wait for it to show up. Carson’s guys linger nearby, watching. I casually flip them off.

“You sure you’re going to be all right? You can come stay with me for a few nights if you want.” Bernie gives me a tight side hug.

“No, I just want a bath and some sleep. And to go to the hospital tomorrow morning to check on Iain.”

“Right, okay. Want a ride? I can get you there the second visiting hours start.”

“You’re sweet, but I’ll manage. Really, you’re the best, Berns.”

“I love you, kiddo. You’ll be okay.” But she doesn’t sound convinced.

---