“You’re late, Dom!” My mom’s high-pitched voice hits me with a touch of humor as she flicks a kitchen hand towel at me. “You’re lucky I’m running behind.” Ma's always running behind. Maybe it’s in our genes. The kitchen smells like her signature Sunday dinner dish of sauce and meatballs.

“Sorry, Ma,” I say and give her a kiss on the cheek as I pull the flowers in my hand around to the front. “Got you a gift though.”

She pats my cheek with her hand and smiles as she says, “Aw, you spoil me!”

“Dante! Why do you never get me any flowers! You should take notes from your son!” she screams past me to the dining hall, and I all-out grin. I love it when she does this shit. Calling my dad out in front of everyone. I chuckle as I walk to the dining room and see the family gathered around the table.

My dad made sure to build this house with a large enough dining hall for everyone. There’s at least twenty people in here. And it feels comfortable, it feels like home. I may not like everything about being a Valetti, but I fucking love Sunday night dinner.

“Pops,” I greet as I slap my hand on father’s shoulder, “looking good tonight.” Pops is getting old, but he still looks good. He’s got dark eyes, with dark hair that’s grey at the temples. I have his high cheekbones and sharp jawline. He looks exactly like a mafia boss. And that’s good, 'cause that’s exactly who he is. I take a seat on his right, across from my brother.

“What up, Dom?” Vince is two years younger, making him twenty-seven. My chest pains realizing the dead fuck in my office was four years younger than my brother. Marco whatever-the-fuck his last name was. My jaw clenches tight, knowing I gotta tell them what happened. Not here though, not at dinner. Ma doesn’t approve of that shit.

“What the hell did I do to you?” Vince looks back at me like I slapped him.

I shake my head and reply, “Not you. I got to talk to you guys later.” The room goes quiet as I reach for some butter for the roll that’s on my plate. I don’t wait till dinner’s served. Never have. Everyone else waits, but Ma doesn’t mind if I get started without her. I don’t know why Ma bothers with the rolls though. I’m the only one who eats them. Everyone else always waits for the garlic bread.

“What’s going on, Dom, everything alright?” Jack asks. Jack is like a second father to me. He’s just under my father in the business, or family, whatever you want to call it.

“Not at the table.” My mom bends down with a hot bowl of meatballs, and places it in the center of the table.

I throw her an asymmetric grin as I say, “Aw, Ma, you know I wouldn’t.” I take a bite of my roll and lean back in my chair, trying to lighten the mood for my mother. “I love the smell of your sauce, Ma.”

She smiles at me and seems to forget the cloud of tension still lingering in the room.

Jack is sitting with his wife next to my brother, but his eyes are on my father. The two have their eyes locked on one another like they’re having a silent conversation. I try to stay out of family business. Pops told me I’d take the lead one day, but I passed it on to Vince. He’s got the brains and the stomach to handle this shit. I’m more of a numbers guy. I help out with the books, but I like my side business I have going on. It’s fun. …well, most of the time.

Jack’s wife, Jessica, gives me a tight smile from across the table. She’s new. Jack divorced his wife, and then she disappeared. He wasn’t right for a while. We all knew what happened. She got pissed one day, and he didn’t keep his dick in his pants like he fucking should have. And she went blabbing about the wrong shit to the wrong people. The thought makes me want to put my roll down, but I don’t. After all these years, I’ve toughened up some. Jessica’s only been a part of the life for a little under a year. The women stay out of the business at all times. That’s our rule. It prevents the shit that happened with Jack’s ex from going down. Yet another reason Jack blames himself. She should’ve known, though. What did she really think was going to happen?

Sitting around the table are more people in the family. Tommy and Anthony are good friends of mine, but they're also my cousins. They’re a year older and a year younger than me, respectively. Although they’re brothers, they look nothing alike. Tommy’s a wall of muscle. His fucking muscles have muscles. I’d be shocked if he didn’t take steroids. I hope he doesn’t, 'cause that shit will shrink up your dick. He’s a fucking hothead like my Uncle Enzo, so it’s hard to say if it’s from 'roids or just genetic. The younger one, Anthony, looks scrawny next to his brother, but he’s lean and works out to keep himself in shape. His eyes are darker, almost black. Anthony is a sick fuck. Tommy might be the muscle, but when we need to get information from someone, we turn to Anthony. Put him in a room with anyone, I don’t care who it is, he’ll get what he wants.

Two seats down from them is Uncle Enzo; he owns the bistro and the club. If someone’s trying to meet my father, they have to go through my uncle first. He’s leaning over telling Jack something I’d wager is a dirty joke, if his tone and hand gestures are anything to go by. A second later, that half of the table is laughing up a storm and my father’s yelling out with a grin. There are some others around the table: Paulie, Joe and a few other guys I know. I don’t hang out with them really. I do the books like Pop says, and I keep my nose clean.

Pops wasn’t fond of me being a bookie at first. He said it’s not good to do shit that could bring heat around the family. But when I started making valuable contacts, like my vet friend, he changed his mind. I know he’s still proud of me even if I’m not looking to take over his empire. I’m not who he thought I’d be, but I’m still family and still worthy of being part of this particular family. Ma takes a seat at the other end and smacks Uncle Enzo over the head. “Hey!” he yells out and rubs the back of his head as everyone gets a good laugh in. Tony’s on my right, the nerd of the group and also a lifelong friend. He gets the intel that we need. And that reminds me of my girl. My hands itch wanting to feel her lush ass again, and my dick jumps in my pants. I slip off my jacket and drape it over the back of the chair as Johnny walks in.

He takes a seat next to my sister, Clara. I’ve been noticing that lately. Not sure I like it. They’ve been friends for a while, but they seem different lately. The only people missing are my cousin Jimmy and his little boy, Gino. Gino’s a hoot. His mom’s a bitch and is lucky she’s alive, to be honest. Not that I’d ever do anything to the kid’s mother, but still, she’s lucky.

The bowls are going around the table. I close my eyes and breathe in deep. It smells like home. With the laughter and loud voices of my uncle and father talking over one another, it sounds like home.

And then Ma opens her mouth and ruins it by asking, “Dom, when are you going to bring home a nice girl for dinner?” The room goes silent except for a few chuckles from my uncle and Jack.

“Come on Ma, why don’t you pick on Vince for a while?”

“'Cause he’s my baby,” she says and shoots him a smile and he snorts a laugh in return, but I can tell he’s embarrassed, too. Good. If she’s gonna go after me, she should be digging at him as well.

“Ma, as soon as I find a keeper I’ll bring her home, alright?” As soon as the words come out of my mouth, my beautiful doll pops into mind. She’s got something about her I think Ma would like. I think it's her innocent yet confident nature, but I can’t tell exactly what it is just yet.

Ma starts to respond with one brow cocked, but I’m saved by little Gino. “Mammie!” The little tyke squeals as he runs in with his little knit hat and thick jacket that billows around him. How can he even move in that thing?

“Gino, bambino!” Ma loves that little man.

I grin at Jimmy and nod my head as he walks around the table to take a seat. He’s a tall, good-looking guy, with broad shoulders, and a pretty boy face. “Dom, who am I betting on this week?” I chuckle at him and shake my head.

“You read that book I gave you?” I ask, knowing full well he didn’t.

He snorts and looks at me like I’m crazy. “Fuck no.”

“Then my guess is that you’ll be betting like all the rest of 'em.”

The room laughs, and I just sit back in my seat until the meatballs come my way. Ma fries them before she covers them with her sauce. They’re so good, but so fucking bad for you.

“C’mon Dom, give me something.”

“Don’t ever bet against me,” I answer as I pile up the meatballs. “There’s something for you, Jimmy. You wanna win bets, you stay on my side.”

“Dude, just tell me this, New York or Dallas over under forty-five point five?” I shake my head at this fool.

“Giants, over.” I lick my lips and slice my meatball as I ask, “How’s construction going?”

“It’s alright. Same old, same old. Wish I had a fun job, like you.” It’s important that we have someone in the construction business. Now that we have the vet, it’s not quite as important, but it’s still good for bookkeeping and all.

“It wasn’t fun today.” Johnny shakes his head and grabs another piece of garlic bread.

I don’t respond; we don’t talk about shit at the table. I stare at my food and shovel down another bite. I never wanna get dinner over with, but I’ve got two conversations that need to happen. One about De Luca, and one about my doll. I’ll get De Luca dealt with first. But now is not the time.

“What happened today?” Clara asks, and the room goes silent. She knows better. I stare down at her, but all I see is the back of her head as she looks to Johnny for an answer.

“No game today; they’re on break.” Johnny answers with a smile and a twinkle in his eye. He’s real fucking good at playing it off. Still, she should know not to ask questions. He should know not to bring that shit up. And they should both know not to be eye-fucking each other like that. I look to Pops, who looks exactly how I feel.

“I wanna play game!” Gino shouts from his seat next to Ma. Jimmy pulled a chair up from the corner so he could sit as close to Ma as possible. Just the way both of them like it. The little tyke gets the good mood going and all’s well for now, but if some shit is going on between Johnny and Clara, they better square that up fast. I take a peek at my Pops and see he seems to have gotten over it.

But I know he didn’t forget.