Daughter of the Mob (Sample)

12 | Smoke

"Yeah, yeah, he'll be fine. He always is." Marco reassured. "I'm sure he's in bed watching I Love Lucy and drinkin' hot soup as we speak."

The group laughed, and Tony passed a tiny alcohol flask to Johnny under the table.

Tony winked, but Johnny shook his head, declining the offer. He didn't like to drink at Roberto's home for fear of making a fool of himself in front of Isabella and the kids. He did stupid things when he drank.

"That show is hilarious. Carlotta is always watching it, I can't get her to turn off the darned television!" Isabella chuckled. She wiped the corner of her lips with her napkin. "Carlotta—tell Johnny about that Cuban fella you're sweet on... what was his name? Ricky something? He looks kinda like Johnny, wouldn't you say?"

Carlotta, who hadn't taken part in the conversation for the entirety of dinner, glared at her mother with a luminous blue-eyed look that could stop an army. Her cheeks flushed. But Johnny knew it wasn't because of adoration or girlish embarrassment.

"Ma! I don't know what you're talking about!" Carlotta exclaimed, crossing her arms.

"Don't talk back to your mamma," Roberto warned sternly, though his perpetually roughened expression turned soft as he gazed upon his daughter. He loved her. Though she was a girl, she was his firstborn, and because she was a girl, her father regarded her as some sort of heaven-sent, angelic being.

"Carlotta! I was just making conversation!" The impossibly outgoing, chatty Isabella laughed, oblivious to her daughter's seething rage. "We all know how sweet on Johnny you've gotten over the years. You know, I was just like you when your father came calling, as they say. I refused to marry dear Roberto at first because he said my spaghett' was dry. Can you believe that man? Anyway, I know my sweet Johnny is a good boy, and one day you'll come to love him as more than a brother."

"Listen to your mamma child." Roberto pinned Carlotta with a look.

It was obvious to the rest of the table that Carlotta was humiliated, and not in the least bit impressed with her mother's attempts to set her up with Johnny. It mortified Johnny.

He had never made it a secret that he intended to marry Carlotta one day, but he had never gauged her as being this opposed to the idea. Wasn't it her who had offered him his very first kiss, after a long day of riding the neighbour's bicycle in the blistering sun? Wasn't it her who had insisted he pretend to be her husband when they played family in the backyard?

He had known Carlotta since their days as a youth, playing on the streets of Brooklyn, sneaking into the back of fancy movie theatres, and stealing pockets full of ice from the iceman on early Saturday mornings. He knew her well enough to conceive that she did not yet like him the way a girlfriend ought to like a boyfriend, or a wife ought to like a husband.

It hurt worse than a gun wound, but Johnny was too proud to admit it.

Carlotta stood up, slamming her chair back, her lustrous black hair bobbing with her sudden, jarring movement. "Excuse me. I'm tired. I gotta go upstairs."

~~~

Soon after dinner had ended, Don Roberto called another meeting in his office, but this time, it was private: with only Johnny's presence requested.

While he paced the hallway, waiting to be called in, Johnny could hardly pretend that he wasn't nervous. He had known Roberto for the greater part of his life, but he still couldn't help but squirm when he was with him, alone, in a room one-on-one. Johnny was never nervous around anyone, but as soon as Don Roberto was reviewing his earnings or talking to him about business, the dynamic shifted. Soon Roberto muttered his name, and Johnny entered.