Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 94048 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 313(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94048 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 313(@300wpm)
If I could have my way, I’d go back home with him. I’d finish cooking. I’d watch him eat and I’d talk to him about what we’re going to do all day. I’d laugh, and moan, and laugh some more, and feel satisfied in a way I’ve never even approached before him.
But we both know that isn’t reasonable anymore.
Simon gave his life over to the Famiglia long before I came around.
“Can you just listen to me?” he says, sounding frustrated, but I’m already shaking my head and going back inside.
“There’s nothing else to say. I’m making this easy on you.”
“Emily, I don’t want any of that.”
But I’m not listening, and suddenly Dad shuffles in front of Simon, putting himself between the two of us. I look back as my father gets in my husband’s face, sticking a weathered finger out, looking so frail and small.
“I don’t know what’s going on between you two, but you should give her space,” Dad says. “Go on now, turn around and head home. She’ll talk when she’s ready. Or are you going to shove past an old man?”
Simon looks conflicted, like he’s actually considering doing just that, but he finally lets out a frustrated grunt and steps backwards. “I’ll be back,” he says, looking at me. “I’m not marrying anyone else.”
Then he turns and walks away. Dad remains on the threshold as I sit on the stairs and lean my face into my hands.
The door shuts. Dad sits down next to me and rubs my back. He doesn’t ask me what that was all about, even though it was probably really bizarre from his perspective. All he does is stay with me as I sink deeper into my misery.
Chapter 31
Simon
The prison guard gives me a hard stare as she pats me down. I swear she lingers a little too long in the crotch region before jerking her head for me to follow. “Security’s been rough lately,” she says by way of explanation. I ignore her comment and follow her to the visiting area.
The room’s like a large cafeteria. There are tables and chairs all over the place with big vending machines filled with all different stuff. Men in brown jumpsuits sit around with people in civilian clothes, and I’m always struck by the diversity in a place like this. Old women, young men, girls and boys, even a few kids. They laugh and talk, and even if the vibe’s always a little strained, it’s still nice to see life happen no matter how high the bars are.
I find my youngest brother, Angelo, sitting in a far corner away from everyone else. He’s got a table all to himself and the guards give him a wide berth. I notice the other inmates give him respectful nods as they walk by, most of which he returns, and he gets up to give me a warm hug.
“You’re here alone,” he comments as we get settled. “That’s new. Dad and Davide usually come along.”
“I figured I should spend some time with my brother all on my own.” I lean forward on the back, my elbows on the table top. “How are things?”
“Ah, you know, the usual.” He waves a hand, grinning. My brother’s always an optimist on the outside, but I can tell prison’s weighing on him. There are bags under his eyes, and his beard is much scruffier than it would’ve been on the outside. He’s even more muscular than before he came in which he attributes to boredom, but I know it’s also because he needs to defend himself. The Bianco family name carries a lot of weight, but there are constantly new threats to deal with from the other gangs.
We talk about nothing important for a little while. He asks questions about Emily, but when it’s clear that I don’t want to talk much about her, he pivots to the usual prison news, updating me on the various Famiglia members behind bars with him.
“You didn’t drive out here just to hear me tell you about Old Mickey’s fucking sore knee,” he says, voice dropping and a knowing smirk on his face. “I’m guessing whatever you really want to talk about, it’s got to do with Dad.”
I hesitate, not sure how much he knows about our father’s slow decline. I’ve told him some things over the phone, but I never want to go into detail, not over a line that’s being recorded. “Things are bad,” I eventually admit and fill him in on what’s happened recently.
Including Dad’s ultimatum.
Angelo leans back with an appalled expression. “What the fuck is he thinking?” he murmurs more to himself.
“I already told Elena, Davide, and Laura that I’m not going to do it. Now I’m here telling you. I’ll die before I marry a fucking Santoro girl.”
“Can’t say I blame you, but what the hell are you going to do? You know how Dad is. He’s going to flip shit when you refuse him.”