Page 3 of Virtuous Lies
I want to hate him for it. It’s not uncommon for made men to cheat on their wives, and it’s not frowned upon. The women accept it. My mother tells me my father does it respectfully. How does onerespectfullycommit adultery? He does it discreetly, yes. But respectfully? There is no such thing.
My father is a capo, and while he has never outwardly vocalized his charge, I know he’s responsible for the underworld prostitution ring run by the family. It should make me sick, but I’ve met some of the women under his charge, and they’re happy. As happy as you can be sucking cock for money. But their vocation lets them live a life they’re comfortable with. They’re protected, to a degree, by the family, and I can’t begrudge them that.
“Why is it okay for you to have mistresses but not okay for women to live the same?” I stupidly spit. “Were you a virgin when you married Mama?”
“Watch your mouth.” His mouth doesn’t open as he threatens me. The clench in his teeth so tight, the words are scarcely audible. “You honor and you respect the old ways, Bianca. I am a capo, for fuck's sake. What do I tell Lorenzo? Huh? His key to peace with the Outfit has been blown up because you fucked hisconsigliere? His closest advisor?” he screams, shaking the windows of his Town Car.
I can’t swallow. I try, but my throat has tightened. An invisible palm having closed itself around my neck. I didn’t think about what Lorenzo would do.
Tony jumps into the passenger seat, startling us both. “Go,” he urges my father’s driver.
Twisting in his seat, Tony looks ready to combust. “Did you fucking kill him?”
“What?” My mouth falls open.
“Did. You. Kill. Him?” he snarls, his face twisted with unease.
“Wh—No. Of course, not.”
Looking at our father, he shakes his head. “Roberto already had a serious fucking headache when I got up there.”
“A headache?” I repeat dumbly.
“A gunshot wound to thegoddamnhead, B.”
“Who else was with you?” My father grabs my wrist, and I cry out from the pain.
“No one. I swear. It was just Berto and me.”
two
“They’ve been meeting for a long time.”
I grab Caterina’s hand. She’s shaking. Her small hand damp with sweat.
“That’s a good thing.” My mother paces the length of my bedroom, her thumbnail caught between her teeth. “We’re lucky Lorenzo didn’t just demand you be put to ground. Salvatore Bianchi may demand it.”
She prays quietly, shaking her head, rejecting the thought of my impending death.
“You know they call himJoker?”
I’ve heard stories, but I keep my silence, knowing her question was rhetorical.
“He’s happy and friendlyuntilyou cross him, Bianca. Then he’ll slit you from ear to ear, forcing you to smile as he watches you bleed out.”
Caterina’s gasp has me tightening my grip on her hand, and I force an exaggerated eye roll in her direction. My sixteen-year-old sister shouldn’t have to be concerned with matters of life and death. She should be worrying about boys from school and her cheerleading team.
“Mama,” Tony chides.
Mama whirls on me, and it takes everything I have in me not to scramble up the bed in fear. My father may be formidable, but my mother is no less threatening. “What were you thinking, you stupid girl?”
Caterina snuggles closer.
“That I wanted to feel loved by a man therightway before I was given, against my will, to another.” I lower my voice, afraid that if I speak louder, my lie will be written in my inflection.
“Your sister’s future husband?” she screeches. “Ofallthe men. Let’s be thankful you’re already on contraception or...” She shakes her head, unwilling to finish her insult.
Bile rushes up my throat at the thought that Caterina would have been married to that man.