Chapter Ten
Maji clipped along up the hill behind Angelo in her awkward chunky heels, struggling to keep up. Add the tight jeans, hoop earrings, makeup, hairspray, and push-up bra to the ensemble, and Maji almost missed the missions that only called for the head-to-toe drapery of the abaya, or even a burqa. They were a hell of a lot quicker to get into, at least. She touched the fake piercing on her belly button, one last check to make sure it wouldn’t fall off.
“This is a little over the top, Ang. What kind of women you been bringing around?”
“None that wanted to stay and meet the folks. But trust me, one look and Gino will have no worries about you. First impressions, right?”
“Well, let’s dial it back soon. Ricky’s already seen me in riding gear, and we could’ve been seen on our run, too.”
“So they’ll see a scrappy kid from Brooklyn, trying to fit in. Speaking of which, bring on the moxie but remember not to push too far. Specially with Gino.”
Maji grabbed his wrist before he could open the Big House’s front door. “I was that kid, you asshole. So whatever comes out, roll with it.”
Angelo led her by the hand into the dining room, where the family was already assembled. Maji recognized the women from the photos in their files. Gino’s wife Paola, dressed expensively if not in particularly good taste, had added highlights to her hair recently. Nonna RoseMarie Benedetti had aged some; Sienna looked about the same, a twentysomething with the same black-black hair as her cousin but little resemblance otherwise. The slight orange cast of Sienna’s spray tan clashed with her yellow top.
“’Bout time,” Nonna announced. All heads swiveled toward them, looking Maji over.
“Sorry, Nonna,” Angelo said, as Maji headed for the matriarch. “Everybody, Ri. Ri, everybody.”
Maji leaned in toward the matriarch, extending her hand. “So nice to meetcha, Mrs. B.”
The elderly woman just looked at her, owl eyed, ignoring the proffered hand. She squinted at Maji’s bejeweled navel. “Your midriff is showing.” She gestured toward the piercing. “Why would anyone do that to themselves?”
Angelo grabbed Maji’s hand. “We’ll be right back.”
Behind them, Sienna’s voice rang out. “Nonna!”
Angelo led Maji up the stairs to Ricky and Sienna’s suite of rooms and started planting bugs. “Grab something to put on.” He plucked a dress shirt off the back of a chair and flung it at her. “Here.”
She sniffed it and frowned, holding it at arm’s length. “Does he bathe in that crap? I’ll find something else.”
“No time, babe,” Angelo replied, tugging on her free hand. “I gotta hit three more rooms, bing, bang, boom.”
Rose looked up as the couple reentered the dining room. Maji wore a slightly sour expression and a starched white dress shirt, open down the front so that her décolletage still showed, but tied at the bottom over the offending bare skin. The smell of Ricky’s cologne reached her from across the table. This woman, Rose realized, she would not have flirted with at a diner. Or invited home. Rose could almost imagine Maji as an entirely separate person than this Ri.
Gino pulled the cork on the wine bottle in his hands. “Sit already! Supper’s getting cold.” He bowed his head and the family followed suit, while Nonna spoke a brief prayer in Italian. All heads bobbed up at the amen, and for a few minutes chaos reigned, as plates circulated and competing discussions sprang up.
“Can I have some more manicotti, please?” Maji asked during a lull in the conversations. As she helped herself from the platter Angelo held, she took a moment to praise the cook, the farmers, and the house, all in Italian.
Oh, thought Rose, there she is. Under the tacky clothes, overdone makeup, and attitude, Maji peeked out at her.
“You speak Italian?” Nonna questioned.
“Solo un po,” Maji replied sheepishly. “I got that line from TV. You like cooking shows?”
“No,” Nonna replied, turning her full attention back to her plate.
“She loves Julia Child,” Sienna said in a faux whisper, leaning across the table toward their guest.
“But you do talk Russian, right?” Gino asked. “Made some points with Khodorov.”
Maji looked at him a moment before answering, then gave a half shrug. “I picked some up in Brighton Beach. Turns out Vlad and me know some people in common.”
“You’re from Brooklyn, huh?” Ricky asked.
“Born and raised. You?”
Sienna made a noise that Rose took to be a stifled laugh. “He’s from Syosset.”
Rose recalled Carlo making fun of the town as a teenager. Apparently Sienna had picked that up from him.
“I spend a lot of time in the city now. For business.” Ricky sounded defensive.
Angelo smirked. “Is that what you call it?”
Ricky opened his mouth to argue, but Gino cut him off. “Where your people from, Ms. Rios?”
“I go by Ri, sir.” She paused. “My folks moved to New York from Guatemala.”
Rose was sure Sal Rios was from Chile. Interesting. Also, she noticed that Ri pronounced the country’s name like a native, wha-tay-mala.
“Where?” Ricky asked.
“Guatemala,” Angelo answered, using the typical American pronunciation. “You know, in Central America.”
“I know where it is, smart-ass. She said it funny.”
Maji gave him a look. “I said it right. Everybody else says it funny.”
Gino chuckled. “Where’d you get this one again?”
“The Army, Dad,” Sienna said, sounding for all the world like an adolescent. “You know, from the news.”
Gino gave barely a flicker of recognition at the reminder of Fallujah. “’Course. Right. Glad you made it home okay.”
Ricky openly surveyed their guest’s makeup and revealing outfit. “You don’t look like no GI Jane. No offense.”
“She cleans up good,” Angelo agreed.
Maji turned on him, but held her peace at the sound of the front door opening and closing again.
“Hello?” Angelo heard his mother call from the foyer. Frank must have made great time from the airport.
“Ma!” He stood and dashed into the living room, picking up his mother in a hug. He whispered in her ear as he set her down. “You’re gonna meet my girlfriend Ri, Ma. Don’t act too surprised, okay?”
She frowned, but nodded.
Angelo walked her into the dining room, arm around her shoulder. Jackie made her way around the table, giving hugs. She paused when she reached the unexpected girlfriend.
Maji extended a hand. “A real pleasure, Mrs. B—I’ve heard so much.”
“Jackie, hon—only Nonna is Mrs B.” Jackie took her hand, but pulled her in to touch cheeks, then pulled back and took a look at her. “So, I finally get to meet you.”
Frank pulled out a chair for her, and she sat. He settled into the last empty spot at the long table. “Sorry we’re late. Plane got delayed.”
Rose passed the tray of homemade manicotti down. “I think there’s a little left.”
Frank chuckled, and Jackie gave her a wink.
“Wine, Aunt Jackie?” Rose asked, reaching for the bottle.
Jackie patted Rose’s hand. “You are a saint, hon. And now I know where you get it.”
“Aunt Bobbi cooks?” Sienna asked.
“Only if you count salads. Lots of salads,” Jackie replied, wiping her mouth. “No, she showed me all about real estate, went over all the rules with me. Gonna help me get my license.”
“You moving to California?” Gino asked, with a studied neutrality not lost on Angelo.
“God, no—no offense, hon,” she added to Rose, taking the glass of red wine from her. “But who do I know there? I’d be starting from scratch.”
Angelo gave her a skeptical look. “Ma, you gonna make a career selling houses to wiseguys?”
“Why not? I know how they think, and they got cash. They shouldn’t have nice houses?”
“No, sure, I just”—Angelo paused to weigh his words—“worry about your safety, that’s all.”
“She’s a Benedetti,” Gino stated with finality. “Anybody messes with her, messes with me.”
“Do me a favor, Gino?” Jackie gave him a crooked grin. “Don’t do me any favors.” At his affronted look she added matter-of-factly, “If I can’t stand on my own feet here, I might as well move to California, am I right?”
He acknowledged this with a scrunch of the face, then raised his glass. “To the Benedetti women. The backbone of the family.”
Everybody drank, while Jackie and Frank dug in.
“Frank says you’ve got big news,” Jackie said to Gino. “What’s up?”
“Just business stuff,” he answered, sparing a glance at Frank. “Nothing you need to worry about.”
Angelo would have preferred to tell her at home, in private, in his own way. Too late now. “She’s gonna hear tomorrow, Big G. Your guests here after the memorial are sure to be buzzin’.”
Gino nodded, frowning. “Suppose so.” He looked at Jackie. “We’ve got a partnership with Khodorov. Just on the one thing, though.”
Angelo suppressed a smile. Everything Gino referenced was this thing, or the thing with that other Family, or something equally oblique. It was a wonder wiseguys ever knew what they were saying to each other. Not that his mother needed anything spelled out, from the look of her. Better duck, asshole!
“Well, that didn’t take you long. Eight months Max is gone, you’re turning the business upside down.” She looked ready to throw her glass of wine in his face. “One thing today, sure. Tomorrow he’ll run the whole goddamn show.”
Nonna tsked. “Watch your language.”
“That you care about? And this is okay with you? Going against Stephano’s wishes like that?”
The clock on the sideboard ticked while everyone at the table held their breath. Finally, Nonna shrugged. “It’s not our worry anymore.”
“The hell it’s not. For all we know, it was that man killed Max and Carlo.”
“Ma, the police ruled it an accident,” Angelo said, taking her hand.
“Well, guys like him can buy a police report,” she said. “Maybe he wanted somebody new in charge here.”
“Hey,” Gino said. “When you lost your husband, I lost my brother, my best friend. And Carlo, he was like the son I never had.” He dropped his head briefly, a fierce look in his eyes when he lifted it again. “I find out that Russian took them from you, from us, I will make him pay. You have my word on that.”
Angelo worked hard to look impressed with his uncle. Yeah, G. He’ll pay. And so will you.
* * *
Maji sat quietly at the breakfast table, sipping coffee with Frank. She’d risen early, as usual, and gone for a run. Then there’d been nothing to do but clean up and slip into the modest black dress and low heels Angelo had procured for her. She stood to put her cup in the sink and noticed Rose in the doorway from the dining room, looking elegant in a fitted black linen dress and sandals.
“You look great, hon,” Frank greeted her. “Too bad you can’t wear that to something happy, huh?”
Rose responded not to Frank but to Maji’s puzzled look. “I got this dress for Grandpa Stephano’s funeral, a few years ago. And then wore it for Max and Carlo’s service last fall. Is it gauche to wear it again, so soon?”
Jackie answered from the doorway into the living room. “Anybody plays fashion police at a memorial don’t deserve to be there.” She swept her hands over her own outfit. “Still, whatta you think? Your mother helped me pick it out.”
“It’s perfect, Ma,” Angelo answered, laying his hands on her shoulders, behind her. “It says, all you wiseguys, fuck off. I’m not on the market…yet.”
He squeezed past her, heading for the coffeepot, pressed and polished in his Army dress green uniform.
“Oh, my,” Rose gasped. “You look just like your portrait photo.”
Frank stood and took the car keys from the tabletop. “Should I have worn mine?” To Maji, he added, “Max and me served together.”
“No time to change now,” Angelo said. “Besides, Dad never liked being reminded of ’Nam.”
“Then what’s with the Class As?” Maji asked. When he glared at her, she just held his gaze.
“’Cause if it was me in the ground,” he said finally, “I’d appreciate the nod.” Angelo pivoted on his heel and strode toward the door. The others followed.
Maji sat in the middle of the town car’s wide backseat, aware of Rose to her right. In the front, a subdued Jackie rode in near silence, while Frank drove.
“You look very nice, too,” Rose said softly.
Angelo responded. “Anybody asks, you helped Ri pick out her clothes.”
“And tone down the makeup,” Maji added.
“Who’s going to ask?” Rose protested.
“My money’s on Sienna,” Maji replied.
“What about Sienna?” Jackie asked from the front.
“Nothing nice, Ma,” Angelo confessed. “We’ll cut it out.”
Jackie turned in her seat to look her surviving son in the eye. “You better. And for once in your life, be civil with Ricky. Carlo was his best friend, after all.”
“For you, Ma. A one-day special.”
The cemetery was crowded with solo mourners and families making their Memorial Day pilgrimages.
Still, Maji was surprised at the size of the crowd around the Benedetti crypt. At least sixty men, women, and children stood in the sun on the cemetery lawn, sweating in dark clothing while the priest spoke interminably, his bald pate glistening.
Back at the Big House, the visitors spilled through the front parlor to the dining room and out the kitchen to the expansive patio. Angelo walked Maji around on his arm, introducing her as Ri to all the Family heads and their key crew members. She smiled politely each time someone trotted out the same quip about there being a quiz later.
Aunt Paola noted her more demure behavior, and commented to Jackie, “Thank God Rose took that Ri girl shopping.” Her voice almost too low for Maji to catch, she added, “She could almost pass for one of us.”
“Mm-hmm,” Jackie agreed, reaching out to snag a glass from the passing server’s tray. “I think Rose helped with the makeup, too.”
Maji retreated to the kitchen, only to find Sienna already there, fishing in the freezer for ice cubes. She tried to walk quietly past, to find a moment of solitude on the patio.
“Hey,” Sienna said. “Nonna’s out there already.”
“Carajo.” Maji peeked through the window and saw three white-haired heads around the patio table, backs to the house. “So, who’s that with her?”
“The old guy’s Arnie somebody, he used to run with Grandpa and the other guys back in the day. The other one’s Gina Lucchetti. She and Nonna been friends since God was in short pants.”
“Sienna!” Jackie cautioned, coming in from the dining room, Rose behind her. “The window’s open.”
Sienna’s face didn’t hide her scorn. “They’re practically deaf anyway. Especially Nonna.”
“Since when?”
“Since she got those new hearing aids and started turning them off all the effing time.”
Jackie looked skeptical. “Well, she hears fine whenever you don’t want her to. Anyway, I need a drink.”
“Me, too,” Rose agreed as she joined them. “You hiding out in here?”
Maji gave a weary look. “I been arm candy all I can take. You’d think Ang never brought a girl home before.” Seeing the hesitation as the other women looked to each other, she asked, “What? It’s okay, we broke up before Fallujah. I’m just here on, let’s say, a trial basis.”
“Oh.” Sienna smiled at her. “Well, between you and me, he went through a few right after he got home.” She stopped as if just realizing Angelo’s mother was there. “Um, I think he was a little messed up there for a bit, you know, losing his dad and brother and all.”
Jackie took Maji’s hand. “I’m glad he’s got somebody he can really talk to, finally. I hope you’ll stay awhile.” She took the glass Rose offered her. “Thanks, sweetie.”
Rose handed Maji a glass, also. “It’s just Coke. You can add rum if you want.”
“Thanks. This is fine.”
Rose paused, looking uncomfortable. “Maybe you could talk to Ang about his drinking?”
Nice play, Rose. Maji gave a half shrug. “Maybe me, and you, and Jackie, too.”
The three clinked their glasses in solidarity, while Sienna looked on as if she didn’t get it, but wasn’t going to cop to that. Maji wondered how many hours would pass before Sienna found an excuse to mention it to Ricky.
Maji stripped off the little black dress and pulled on her worn blue jeans and a T-shirt, feeling more like herself by the minute. Three hours of playing Angelo’s girlfriend for an audience of Mafia men and wives was about two and half hours too many. She inserted the earpiece and strapped on the clunky watch, turning the transmitter on.
There was time to clean off her makeup, too, before they had to escort Rose to the airport. As she restored her face to its normal clean look, she indulged a moment in speculating on the future. They’d wrap the mission up shortly after the Fourth of July party, and not long after that Rose should be back from Peru. Then camp would wind up, too, and…what?
Maji stared at her own face in the mirror. What Rose saw in her, she didn’t know. Maybe it was just the roller coaster that had started that first night at Mona’s. Maybe normal life would kill the spark. Maji watched her mouth curl at the thought. Even as a Reservist, she couldn’t offer anyone a normal life. Let her go, Rios.
She padded down the steps and noted there were no bags by the door yet. Nobody downstairs, either. Maji went back upstairs and found Rose sitting up on her bed, reading.
“You’re not packed?” Maji asked, leaning on the door frame. “Is your flight delayed?”
Rose looked embarrassed. “I won’t be on it. Ang didn’t tell you?”
No. Because I would kill him. She rocked back on her heels and smacked the wall outside the doorjamb. “You’re staying. Here?”
Rose winced at her tone. “I’m sorry that inconveniences you. But putting holes in the wall won’t help. Ang said he’d be in the basement if you wanted to talk to him.”
Maji spun and jogged downstairs, slamming the door at the top of the stairs to the basement. Nobody wandering into the kitchen should hear what she meant to say to Angelo. She clicked her transmitter off, too.
“Hey,” Angelo said solemnly, pushing back from his spot at the desk as she reached the bottom step.
“Are you drunk for real?” Maji spat. “It’s not getting any safer here.”
“I know. It’s not going to be safe anywhere, soon.” He paused, as if weighing how much to tell her. “I’m working with Hannah on a plan to let Sirko steal the program, without Khodorov tumbling to that fact.”
Crap. Obviously, once word was out about this mythological moneymaker, Sirko would hear. And intel said what he couldn’t take, he would destroy. If that made her bait, fine. “Your mother and Rose, at the very least, should go to a safe house.”
Angelo shook his head. “Look, I pulled the plug on Peru because no matter how remote that village might be, Sirko could get somebody there. And even if I had the resources to protect her down there, I couldn’t sleep with her so far out of reach, you know?”
“I know.” The idea had made Maji a little queasy, too. But Rose here for the duration made her too scared to think straight. “But a safe house is different.” Maji had hated her time in them, when her mother was under direct threat. But she’d lived to remember hating it. “Safer.”
Angelo came around the desk and leaned back on it. “If we use a safe house, we have to tell the FBI.”
“So? Rey is solid.” She took a seat halfway up the stairs, where she could look Angelo in the eye. And watch his body language, check for what he wasn’t telling her.
Angelo crossed his arms. Not a good sign. “Rey is great. But he still reports to a team, not just our folks. And you know Sirko works way too much like we do, with all those ex-Spetsnaz guys on his payroll. An FBI safe house could be an easy target.”
“So use Hannah. I’ll ask her!” This was his mission, and his call to make. But she had to try.
“Don’t put her in that position. I already got her out on a limb, with the firewall down. Plus, she’s invited Rose to camp.”
“Bullshit.” Rose was way too old for camp. Even if she had been a teen, she didn’t fit the profile Hannah looked for.
Angelo finally smiled. “Tell me that tomorrow, after class. Now look, I got work to do.”
Maji wasn’t ready to be dismissed. And as much as she hated to admit it… “I can’t protect her, Ang.”
“Yeah. We’re way too thin on the ground here. I put in a request—Dev and Tom will be here in a couple days. You can rotate watch, and they can handle Ma while you and Frank cover Rose.”
Maji sighed with relief. Having the team back together—minus Palmer—would make a world of difference. And she could handle having Rose at the dojo, if that’s really what Hannah wanted. But at home? “I need you to put them on Rose at home, Ang. I’ll cover Jackie.”
“At home you can tag-team, hon. But I’m not taking you off Rose just because you two got chemistry. I trust you to act like a professional.”
“Ang,” she said, irritated to feel herself flush, “don’t.”
“Hey, you slipped. It happens.”
“Not to me. Not like that. I didn’t even know Frank was in the house, much less close enough to see us.” She saw from his shift in posture that he was finally really listening. Might as well come all the way clean. “And I can’t promise that if we spend time alone, it won’t happen again.”
Angelo unfolded his arms, the better to talk with his hands. “I hear you, babe. Do your best. And be prepared to give up the rest of your privacy.”
That would have to do for now. “Thanks.” She stood to go, started up the stairs.
“Hey. You two really click, huh? That’s kinda awesome.”
Maji didn’t walk down to where he could see her face. Angelo knew as well as she did why a romance now was dangerous, and would be unworkable later. “No, Ang. It’s just kinda cruel.”