“There’s no other way, baby,” Zig said. He wouldn’t even look at me. The members of his club stood in a line outside his hospital room door. My heart thundered inside of me, broken, but somehow still beating.

I stared at him, as cold dread filled me. I’d almost lost him. The moment I reached for his lifeless body and turned him over replayed in my head on an unending loop. His face had been so gray, his eyes unfocused. Then he took that gasp of air and it was as if my own heart started beating again too. Now he stared at me with a different kind of coldness in his eyes and it was me who felt dead.

“Is this because of them?” I asked. “After all of it, are you really going to choose your club over me, Zig?”

His jaw clenched and he fisted the blankets. Given a chance, he would have torn the collar off his neck and punched something, I think. I was about to myself.

“Don’t ask me that, Gina,” he said, his voice low, toneless. “Don’t ever ask me that.”

Maybe it should have lessened the sting seeing how much this hurt him too. I should be grateful for that. I wasn’t. I wasn’t even sad. A rage began to bubble low inside of me. I’d been willing to stand up to my family for Zig. Now he was telling me he wasn’t ready to do the same.

“So it was all just words,” I said. “By the side of the road. You told me you loved me.”

His eyes flicked to mine. “I do love you. But that’s not the point anymore.”

“What is the point? Huh? This is crazy, Zig. Those guys out there don’t get along with my family so now you have to alter your future because of it? It’s ridiculous. My family isn’t exactly happy we hooked up either, but I don’t care. My father’s gone. I’m not going to let them run me. Why can’t you do the same?”

His eyelids fluttered. The effort of keeping whatever emotion he held in check seemed to be causing him physical pain. There was something he wasn’t telling me. The trouble was, the thing he had told me hurt badly enough.

“You should go,” he said. His words burned through me like acid. “Now.”

“Zig.” I went to him. Zig raised his hands, warding me off.

“Go, Gina. I’m sorry, but don’t come back.”

He looked away from me. My hands trembled where I held them out, wanting to touch him again. This wasn’t Zig. He didn’t feel this way. Something happened he wasn’t telling me. They’d sent me out of the room when Bear and the others walked in. This was their doing, not Zig’s. But now, it didn’t seem to matter. He was going along with it and letting my heart shatter into a million tiny pieces.

I straightened my back, trying to gather my pride. I wasn’t going to let Zig or any of the rest of them see my cry. My stomach flipped and I felt like I was going to be sick. I turned and walked toward the door. Zig’s last words seemed to echo through me even though he only said them in a whisper.

“I’m fucking sorry.”

So was I.

Bear Bullock looked at me stone-faced as I closed the door behind me. None of the rest of the Dark Saints would turn my way. Fuck them. Fuck their code. I slid my purse strap higher on my shoulder and walked past them with my head high. I couldn’t give any of them the satisfaction of seeing my tears.

When I got to the elevators, Mama Bear stood there waiting for me. When she made a move toward me, I held up a hand just like Zig had, warding her off.

“Don’t,” I said. “Whatever you do, don’t tell me any of this is for the best.”

The sympathetic mask she’d worn dropped, and Josie Bullock gave me a wry, knowing stare. “You’re right, honey. It’s not. It’s shitty. But there is a bright side to this. You’re just not going to be able to see it for a while yet. You’re not cut out for this life though, Gina. You don’t belong here.”

Goddammit. I felt my tears start to well. I hadn’t wanted to show her that either. “And I’m getting sick and damn tired of people telling me how I’m supposed to live my life.”

A smile lifted the corners of Josie’s mouth. She crossed her arms and leaned toward me. “Then don’t listen to them, Gina.” That’s all she said. After that, she walked away from me, heading back to Bear’s side. The elevator doors opened and I stepped inside.

* * *

Four days later, Mama Bear sent me a text that Zig had been released from the hospital. I didn’t answer her back.  I’d spent most of those days in my room at the house. My mother found renewed purpose planning my father’s memorial service. She was dealing with the loss of the man she loved far better than I was. I could barely make it out of bed. When I did, I couldn’t seem to keep food down. All I wanted to do was sleep. But when I did sleep, dreams of Zig haunted me.

On the fifth day after leaving Zig at the hospital, my mother had had enough. She came into my room and whipped open the curtains. Sunlight stabbed across my eyes and my stomach churned again.

“No more,” she said. “You’ve been moping around this house long enough. The cousins are coming in today for a memorial service.”

“What are you talking about? You said the funeral is next week at Saint Lucia’s.”

She wore a new navy-blue suit with white lapels. My mother had also been back to the salon. Her hair was freshly dark and her cheeks shone from whatever harsh chemicals they’d used to try and smooth away her wrinkles. God, it wasn’t the threat of losing of my father that had nearly dragged her under. It was seeing him weak in that bed for so long. I could have appreciated the irony if I didn’t want to throw up from my own grief.

“That’s the public affair,” she said. “Today I want to have just the family so we can say our goodbyes together. It’s what Daddy asked for. I expect you to be presentable, Gina. Your brothers are already down there.”

“What, you mean now? It’s happening now?”

She went to my closet and pulled out the black Chanel dress I’d worn to my high school graduation. It had been less than two years ago but it seemed like a million. Daddy had been there that day, standing tall and proud beside me. Would he be ashamed of me now? As I thought it, I realized it no longer mattered. What mattered was whether I was ashamed of him.

Mommy took the dress out of the garment bag and hung it on the hook by my door. The woman was a true chameleon. Just a few short weeks ago she’d said the vilest things to me, blaming me for just about everything that had happened with my father. Now she stood with her plastered-on smile and her perfectly pressed suit, not a hair out of place.

“Don’t take too long,” she said. “I want to get this over with as much as you do. Put a little extra rouge on your face, you look pale.”

She caught her reflection in the full-length mirror I kept beside my bed. Turning sideways, she ran her hand over her flat stomach and picked a piece of lint from her skirt. Then she gave me a half-smile and walked out of the room. When the door opened, I could hear raised voices from downstairs in the foyer. The DiSalvo extended family had already arrived.

My family. My father’s legacy. That’s all that was left. Whether he wanted to admit it or not, it’s what Zig left me for. He chose his club over me and he expected me to do the same. My heart ached thinking about him. Had it all been for nothing? Had everything we shared together been just a waste?

A piece of my mother came into my heart. Appearances mattered. If I couldn’t make my insides whole again without Zig, I could at least look the part. I put on the dress. It fit more snugly than it had the last time I wore it. I’d been away at college for nearly two years since then. I piled my hair into a bun, spraying the stray pieces down, and applied the makeup my mother asked me to. Then I stood in front of the mirror just like she had, smoothing the front of the dress down as I turned sideways.

“Time to get down there.” Georgio’s gruff voice startled me. He called from the hallway. My mother must have sent him up to make sure I didn’t stall.

I went out into the hall. His cold eyes looked me up and down. “You look like hell,” he said.

“Don’t start with me.”

He grabbed me by the arm, pulling me forward cruelly until his nose almost touched mine. “I’ll start with you anytime I want. I’m the head of this family now. You might want to bury your head in the sand about what that means, but you don’t get to anymore. Do you realize how much jeopardy you put us in by playing that thug’s whore? There are rumors flying around all over town.”

My vision wavered and my blood caught fire. “Take your hands off me.”

But Georgio didn’t. He only tightened his grip and started to pull me down the hall toward the stairs. I dug in my heels. Georgio squared his shoulders and stood in front of me. “Straighten up, little sister. You’re going to go down there and you’re going to cry your eyes out like the good little grieving daughter. That way nobody will start asking you any questions that might embarrass me.”

“Embarrass you? What the hell are you talking about?”

“I’m done cleaning up your messes, Gina. Today is about showing a united front to the rest of the cousins. They smell a hint of weakness and we’re fucked. You got that?”

Cleaning up my messes? Georgio made no sense. I put a hand over his where he gripped me and tried to peel his fingers away. His knuckles were rough and scabbed over. Understanding slammed into my brain. The night of the storm, before I went to Zig’s house, I’d seen him come inside, his hands bloodied.

“You did that to him?” I asked, finally sliding my arm out of his grip. “You’re the one who hurt Zig like that?”

Georgio narrowed his eyes at me. “Grow up, Gina.”

I shook my head, trying to clear it from the fog threatening to rise. “You could have killed him. Jesus Christ, Georgio. You meant to kill him, didn’t you? If I hadn’t ... he was lying ... oh my God!”

“That’s right,” Georgio said, getting his face in mine again. “Next time you try to go against the family, you’ll think about that. Next time, it might be you and I might not miss.”

All the blood in my body seemed to shoot straight down to my knees. He was right about one thing. I had kept my head buried in the sand about how ruthless my mother and brother could be.

“Junior,” I said, my mouth dry. “You killed him too, didn’t you?”

Georgio straightened, a sadistic smile twisting his features. “Don’t look so shocked. He was about to turn Dad over to the feds. Ask your scum boyfriend about how Junior tried to kill one of his biker friend’s girlfriends. I only did what Dad would have wanted me to and what Mom needed. But let it be a lesson to you: the family business comes first. No matter what. Even against you, little sister. But cheer up, today’s your second chance. Now go down there and turn on the waterworks. If it were up to me, you’d stay locked in your little glass tower, princess.”

Georgio crooked a finger under my chin and kissed me on the cheek before I could pull away. Then he turned and walked down the stairs.

I had ice in my veins. My heart thundered inside my chest and I put a hand flat against the wall to steady myself. This wasn’t my father’s legacy. It couldn’t be. Georgio and my mother had taken it and twisted it into something evil. I had no love lost for my brother Junior and I could believe that he would try to hurt my father to serve his own ends. But there had to be a better way.

I took two steps and felt sick again. I refused to give into it. The voices down in the foyer grew louder. I could pick out my mother’s high, lilting soprano as she accepted condolences from my father’s cousins. It was all a farce. My father had never been close to them. Since I was old enough to talk, I remembered my father complaining about how the cousins would always try to cheat him. They were the enemy, so he kept them close.

I moved to the top of the stairs. My mother stood at the center of the men, just like she always did. They leaned in close, hugging her, but over her shoulder, I could see the naked greed in their eyes. Everyone down there was play-acting. At the center of the room, my mother had my father’s pewter urn on display next to a giant portrait of him. He stared back with his kind, shining eyes, watching me as the vultures gathered.

“You okay, sis?” Gianni and Joey seemed to come out of nowhere from one of the back rooms at the top of the stairs. Gianni favored my mother, with his long nose and wide-set eyes. I reached up and touched his cheek, grateful for the sincerity I found in his gaze. Of all of us, Joey had had the least to do with Daddy’s business, preferring to work construction on the south side of town. He looked uncomfortable in his designer suit. I reached over and fixed his crooked blue tie.

“Come on,” I said. “Daddy’s waiting.” Gianni took my hand and we descended the staircase together.

* * *

I played the part my mother laid out for me. I wouldn’t shed fake tears the way my brother wanted. I stayed straight-backed and stoic, taking a page from my mother.

Yes, it was a tragedy. Thank you so much for coming, Uncle Frank. No question, Daddy wouldn’t have wanted to be a burden. A blessing, a relief, really.

Later, I found a secluded spot in the corner by the large fern my mother kept in a gold pot. At least, I thought it was secluded. A hand on my elbow startled me.

“Sorry, kid,” Dr. Lombardi looked down at me with sad eyes. “Sorry about all of it.”

I smiled at him and steeled myself for another round of small talk. “So am I. But thank you for everything you’ve done for us. I know it was hard at the end with my mother, but she’s bouncing right back.”

Lombardi looked over at her and chewed his bottom lip. “That’s Christine. She’ll outlast us all. Gino always told me she was the real strength and brains behind the family. I suppose that might be true. But then, we haven’t seen the last of you, have we?”

It seemed an odd question. I reared back a little before answering. “I beg your pardon?”

Lombardi put a paternal arm around me and squeezed my shoulders. “I just mean, don’t let ’em swallow you up, kid. I think you’re more like your mother than your father. Although, you look a little peaky. Why don’t I come back and see you next week?”

I patted his hand and gave him a curt smile. Then I ducked out from beneath the fern and moved further down the hall. Looking back, no one followed. My mother’s lilting laughter echoed, but stayed distant. I snuck through the oak double doors leading to my father’s private office.

I’d spent hours here as a little kid, playing dolls at his feet while he took calls and handled paperwork. He’d always seemed so big and strong. My father could do anything, I thought. I slid into his green wing back chair, sinking into the warm leather. His scent still lingered here and it comforted me.

“Oh, Daddy,” I whispered, spreading my hands over the desktop. He had an old-fashioned felt ink blotter. A stack of papers fanned out beside it. They were the ones I’d found in his safe last week. I gathered them, straightening them into a neat pile. Then I knew someone had to do the hard thing and honor my father’s wishes. I’d read them over and over, hoping I would make the right choice. God, so strange for such a powerful man to be reduced to these few pages of legalese.

I flipped through the last pages, looking for my father’s scrawling signature. When I found it, I ran my fingers over the giant, looping D he always made. Then I sat back and began to read them again with new eyes.