This little secret is dying to be heard
But I swore I'd keep it in
My heart's on my sleeve
But we painted over it
It's tragic but it's true
So get in the car
We're going for a ride
The road only knows where it leads
The sign says it's slippery, but still we speed along
Over hills and curves
And I won't look down to the ground
'Cause I'm afraid of falling
And I'll hold my tongue till I'm blue
But I'm not afraid of fighting
-The Supers, Secret
Chapter 23: Homeward Bound
Everyone huddled on the couch; Mush sitting on Blink, Race and Spot sprawled over each other, Dutchy on the arm, and Jack and Itey next to each other, punching each other's arms in excited, manly fashions. They knew they should have been practicing, but were trying to figure out a setlist so they knew what to practice. But they were really too excited and distracted.
"We rock so much," Blink said, between kisses with Mush. Race had his arms wrapped around Spot's skinny middle, hugging him in a purely non sexual, boyish fashion.
Spot found it slightly cute.
Dutchy was slightly jealous.
Then David came running into the garage. And the atmosphere changed because he looked horrified. David nearly never had that sort of expression; the last time he had was Dutchy's OD. And the look on his face was enough to shut everyone up.
Jack stood, and hurried over to him, looking worried. "Davey, what's up?"
"The..." David shook his head, panting. He'd been running. "The news. It...it..." he looked at Race. "Tony..."
"What?" Race asked, his mind immediately turning to his sisters. David couldn't have been home from school long, it wasn't even four yet, so if anything had happened to one of them during the last period... "What?" he asked desperately.
"I wasI was just flipping channels for a minute when I got home, and" He cut off. "You need to see this. Jesus, I don't know what to say."
"David, what's wrong?" Race asked again, as David insistently started towards the door into Blink's house. Race followed him closely and everyone else trailed after, confused and nervous, and still jittery from their good news.
David flipped on the TV in the living room and turned the channel to CNN and everyone just stared.
It was footage labeled "earlier today" by the text in the corner, with headlines scrolling on the bottom. But the footage itself...
Paulo Higgins was being led from a police car to a jail facility; his head was held high but his hands were cuffed behind him. The look on his face was blank and impassive, and Race recognized it immediately because it was the same expression he'd had on as he'd walked into school, pretending he was utterly unaffected. Paulo's business suit was rumpled and the jacket was torn; his tie was loose and there were a few blood spots on his otherwise pristine white shirt. A deep purple bruise covered the left side of his neck.
There were commentators talking over the footage, but Racetrack barely heard them. Something about the Mafia and the first major step in exposing organized crime for over a decade, multiple murder charges, and, "The infamous hitman Paulo Valentino."
Race sank down into a chair and his eyes never left the screen. He didn't hear the commentators, he didn't hear his friends asking him if he was okay. He barely felt Spot's hand on his shoulder. He just stared.
"Tony? TONY." Spot jostled his shoulder hard enough to snap him out of the daze.
"Holy fuck..." Race mumbled.
David, mercifully, turned off the television, and everyone stared at Race, who just stared blankly at the now dark screen. He couldn't bring himself to look at his friends; he didn't know what to say to them. He didn't even know what to think.
He was unspeakably angry at his father, and he'd always hated that his father was in the mafia.
But he'd never expected his father to get caught.
"Tony, are you... Okay?" David asked.
Race shut his eyes. "Need a line," he said vaguely. He said it mostly because he knew how people would react, and he needed to be back in a world where he understood the rules. Spot smacked him sharply upside the head. Blink hesitated, then disappeared into the kitchen; a moment later he reappeared with a bag of hard candy, the cinnamon kind his father liked. "This is all we've got," he said quietly, and handed it to Race.
Race, everyone noticed, was concentrating far too hard on unwrapping the candy.
"Tony..."
"What?" he asked. "What do you want me to say?"
There was a pause, and Jack was the only one blunt enough to answer the question that everyone but Spot was dying to know. "Is it... Is it true? Did you know?"
Race put the candy in his mouth, shut his eyes again, and took a deep breath. "I don't know anything," he said quietly.
Spot squeezed his shoulder a little bit.
He hated lying to his friends, but...
It was creepy.
He hated lying, but he'd been through the scenario with his Uncle Maurice before, several times. What would happen if someone got caught and his father was arrested. What to say, what not to say, how to act, what to do. And high up on the list was to not admit to knowing anything, not even to his best friends, because the media would definitely ask around, and when it was brought to trial, anyone could be asked if Race had ever said he knew anything. So he couldn't say so.
He bit his lip. He knew that right at that second, no one would believe him, because he just didn't have the will power to be a very good liar right then. He felt drained, like this had put him over the emotional edge and he not only didn't know what to feel, he couldn't feel.
"Tony..." Mush said quietly.
"I should call home." Though he didn't move to stand up. But it was still kind of eerie, because at that moment, Blink's phone started ringing.
Race stared at Blink, and finally, David was the one who answered it.
Race yanked the phone away from him right after his greeting. "Maurice?" Race asked quietly.
"Yes."
He hated how official Maurice sounded. It scared him. But then again, it wasn't like Maurice had been Big Bird lately. Everything was different now; he'd almost forgotten that.
"What do I..." Race looked over his shoulder at his friends. "Do?"
"Deny. Act like you don't know. We've been through this. And make sure HE doesn't talk. You know what that means."
"He won't."
"If he does-"
"He won't!"
"Listen, that faggot-"
"Don't call him that!"
"Anthony, now is not the time" He stopped, and started again. "Marco is already on his way to pick you up."
"What?" Race demanded.
"Your presence is... required."
"But not wanted." He didn't even bother to ask it as a question; his uncle's tone of voice made it more than clear.
"No, frocio, it is not wanted. But we need to keep an eye on you, and on him."
"What?"
"You and Sean will both be accompanying Marco home. Do not argue with me. In the mean time, don't leave where you are, don't set foot outside. Is that understood?"
"But"
"Is that understood?"
"Yeah."
"Good." The line went dead.
Racetrack blinked a few times, then handed the phone back to David.
"So... what's up?" Jack asked.
Race looked up at him, a look of disbelief on his face. "THIS is what the fuck's up!"
"You didn't know?"
The hesitation in his voice gave him away. He knew it did. They all were his friends; they had him down, and they knew his signs.
But he still couldn't say anything, even if they'd figured it out, even a little.
"No," Race snapped. "I didn't know."
"Not even a hin-"
"Shut up, Jack!" Spot snapped. "It's none of your business. Okay?"
"Fuck you! It's not yours either!"
Spot didn't say anything. He didn't even move to touch Race. Race felt cold. "No," Spot finally snapped. "It's not my business. So I'm not asking about it."
"I have to go... home," Race said quietly. But he knew it wouldn't be home. He knew that house would never be home again.
"You have to?" David asked, concerned. "They can't... They can't force you."
"Not after they kicked you out," Mush added.
Race shook his head a little. "I have to."
"But"
"My sisters will need me." Which was probably true.
"Yeah, but if they"
"Stop," Race said. "Juststop. I have to."
There was a pause, and a lot of exchanged looks between his friends. And finally David just said, "Okay."
He bit his lip, then said, "Spot..."
"It's cool." Spot was trying to be supportive, Race realized, which was something he desperately needed. But Spot missed the point. "You have to."
"It's not just" He broke off. How the hell was he supposed to tell Spot that he wasn't just invited, he didn't have much of a choice? "Theythey said you could come."
"What?" The confusion in Spot's voice echoed what everyone else was feeling. "Why?"
"How the fuck should I know?"
Spot gave him a serious look, then shrugged a little. "Do you want me to, Tony?"
Race shook his head no. "They're not going to be very nice to me, I know that already. So probably not to you, either."
"But do you want me there?" Spot asked again.
Race bit his lip and stared at him. And he did that for a long time. Jack, with an annoyed expression, stepped forward. "Hey, why the hell should SPOT have to get caught up in your...creepy, weird, INSANE mob family!"
Spot glared. "Jack, shut UP."
"No, I won't shut up!" Jack turned to look at him, pointing his finger, looking kind of frantic. "For fuck's sake, this is getting ridiculous! He shows up, his dad goes nuts on us, Dutchy OD's"
"Shut up, Jack," Dutchy snapped.
Jack seemed to be in some sort of shock, talking without really knowing what the hell was coming out of his mouth. "I'm not going to shut up! What the hell does it take to make you fucking normal, Tony? Why do you fuck things up?"
"You want normal, Jack?" Race yelled. "Do you know how fucking much I wish I was YOU?"
Which kind of took everyone aback. No one said anything, and Race continued yelling because he had too much frustration he'd been locking in, and at least yelling was some sort of release.
"You oror fucking anyone but me! You think" he almost started laughing, "you think my life was sweet? I'd give up fucking everything I've ever had to be fucking normal! To not have a drug problem, to not have my dad, to not have to go back there nowI'd do anything but there's nothing I can do! It's all fucked up, I'm all fucked up and there's not a fucking thing I can do about it!"
Jack half-turned away from him and didn't say anything. Spot put his hand back on Race's shoulder; Race pulled away from him.
"Tony..." David said quietly.
"Whatever." Race didn't feel like talking. He wanted to be numb; he wanted to be unconscious. Almost without thinking, he shoved another candy in his mouth.
Spot cleared his throat a little.
"So," Spot finally said.
"Spot"
"I'm going," Spot said.
"Sean" Jack started.
"Shut the fuck up, Jack." Spot glared.
"What the hell is WRONG with you, Sean?" Jack yelled, too frustrated to care exactly who he was yelling at.
"Jack!" David broke in. "Calm down, yelling isn't going to do anyone any good."
"But"
"No, serious," David continued. "I know..." He wasn't sure how to say it without sounding like he was talking about Race while Race was right there listening, but there really wasn't another way. "I know Tony better than you do. He needs someone to keep him from..." He trailed off.
"Fucking up again?" Race muttered bitterly.
David shrugged. "Yeah, that."
"I thought he had sisters," Jack shot back.
"I do. And knowing my family, they'll be strictly forbidden to speak to me." Race crunched the candy and began to unwrap another piece. Dutchy hesitantly took one too, and Race felt worse, which he hadn't thought was possible. Because now he was so fucked up that he was stressing Dutchy to the point of craving, too.
"Tony..." Itey said quietly. "Is Sophia..." He trailed off.
Race shrugged. "She'll be... Probably... pretty freaked out."
"Like you," he said.
"Yeah. Fuck, I fucking hate him!" He clenched and unclenched his fist. "I fucking hate him, I'm not even in the damn family anymore and he's still fucking up my life!"
"I can't even..." Jack shook his head. "Can't even listen to this anymore. Fuck all of you, sit with him and baby him all you want because I've fucking had it!"
"Jack!" David exclaimed. But Jack pushed by him, and before anyone could say a word, he was out the door.
David swore, and sat down next to Race. Everyone was completely silent. There was nothing they could really say.
"Davey..." Race said finally, patting his back. "If you wanna go after him..."
"No..." David shook his head. "No, no, he's being a shit head. I can't go and cradle him every time he throws a tantrum."
"You always have before," Itey said logically.
This caused a long silence, until finally David looked at Race, raising his eyebrows.
Race didn't want him to go, but then again, David was always his mother. Shouldn't he just let him off once?
He wanted to; he wanted to let them all off. He wanted to let them all walk away from him and never look back.
But he needed them. And it was hard to accept that
"Fuck," he mumbled finally. "Davehe's your best friend. Go on. I'm fine."
"You're really not."
"Yeah, but there's nothing anyone can do about that now."
David still hesitated. "Are you"
"Davey, just go."
"I'll call you tonight," David promised, and quickly headed off after Jack.
"You know you didn't do anything wrong," Mush said, finally moving to sit down on the couch, Blink following suit. "He's..." Mush shrugged.
"He doesn't know how to handle his...you know, he's bad at worrying about people and Sean so...and he's a drama queen," Blink supplied. "Which is supposed to be my job. Fucker."
Race snorted.
"You want to get going?" Spot asked.
"They're having me picked up."
Dutchy gave him a weird look. "Your family is scary. Is your dad really"
"I don't KNOW!"
"Valentino," Itey supplied hesitantly. "They said his name was... Valentino."
Race shrugged.
"...Tony?" Mush asked.
"Before we moved here from Chicago, that was our name. He changed it, but he never told me why or anything. I was only, like, six or seven..."
Itey raised an eyebrow. Race averted his eyes. Something about Itey; something about the way he looked at you when you were lying. He just knew you were. Blink, Mush and Dutchy didn't seem to have a clue. And Spot wasn't talking.
"So...you don't know a thing?"
"No."
"Okay...no ideas"
"It's not like the movies, okay?" Race snapped.
"How would you know?"
"I don't see any...I don't know anything!" Race stood up. "Listen, if you keep bugging me, you can't date Sophie any more!"
Itey paled. "Tony"
"Ah!" He raised his hand. "I don't want to talk, fuck everything." He sat back down. "Goddamnit..."
There wasn't anymore talking after that, because no one had a clue about what to say. So they waited for Marco. And they waited for Jack and David to come home, but they didn't.
When the doorbell rang, everyone jumped a little; Blink answered it and walked back into the room with Marco at his heels.
For a moment, Race was startled; Marco wasn't wearing his usual slightly rumpled suit. But it made sense. If they were going to act the part of a normal family, probably the guy who worked a cushy job for his father's company wasn't going to wear a suit outside of work. But over the past few years, Race had gotten used to seeing Marco dressed up... With his hair slightly messy and wearing a t-shirt and cords, he looked so normal. Well. He kind of looked like an Abercrombie model, but he didn't look like a Mafia man.
Race glanced at Dutchy, who he expected to be drooling, but Dutchy looked totally cold. So did everyone else in the room. Which was kind of reassuring; they all had a good enough idea of what Race's family was like to treat the cousin sent to pick up him like...
Like the family was going to treat Race.
But there was nothing really he could do about that, so he stood and just watched Marco, who just watched him back. And finally said, "We should go. Someone will be by to get your things and your car later."
Race nodded, grabbed Spot's hand, and followed Marco outside. He noted that Marco was actually using his own car and not the black van the Family used. Yeah, they wanted to look normal. But really, there was nothing normal about the situation.
Marco said nothing as Spot and Race walked behind him to the car. And Race kept a firm hold on Spot's hand. He was probably hurting him, but right now, he wanted the entire freaking world to see that yes, he was a guy, and yes, he was holding another guy's hand. They loved each other, and they fucked. Often. Well, they were getting there.
Speaking of which, Race wanted to right now, which meant it was getting therapeutic, which also meant he was just as fucked up as he thought.
Marco jumped in the car, and unlocked the doors. He didn't say a word as they got inside.
Finally, they started off, and Race watched Blink's house fade off in the distance. He felt like he was going to hell.
"The cops are gonna be on us," Marco said seriously. "Twig, you better know what the fuck to do."
"Sorry, Twig? Yeah, don't know a twig," Spot said, leaning back arrogantly in his seat.
"Don't play games with me."
"Don't call me twig."
"Spot," Race snapped under his breath.
"Faggot; sure. Call me that, 'cause hey, it's true. I'm a fucking cock-sucking fag, and I can't keep my hands to myself. Right?"
Marco was clearly trying to keep a hold on his temper and finally snapped, "You're walking into the lion's den here, twig. Uncle Paulo was set up and we don't know who did it, and guess what? You're about the only outsider walking around who knows who we are. Which puts you in a position you really don't want to be in. So don't fuck around."
"He was set up?" Race repeated. "How the hell can you not know who"
"We're working on it!" Marco snapped.
"How could it even HAPPEN?"
"Like you care."
Race stared for a second, then leant back in the seat. "You know what? You're right. I don't care. He fucking deserves to be in jail."
And that was the last thing anyone said on the ride home.
There were a lot of extra cars parked in the driveway and Race only recognized Isabella's, but was relatively certain that one was Maurice's as well. He wondered why the hell the whole mafia would decide to go hang out at the house of the guy who was arrested; were they actually stupid?
Probably, Race thought bitterly, and grabbed Spot's hand as they walked up the path to the door.
He spent the walk working up his righteous indignation, reminding himself that it was their problem, not his, and he'd done nothing wrong. Spot's grip was tight and Race was grateful he had something he could feel.
He opened the door, and standing in the foyer were his mother, Uncle Maurice, and Mario. They all watched him silently, and he only spent a moment watching them back. "So I guess a welcome home for the prodigal son is too much to ask," he finally spat, and pushed past them into the house, half-dragging Spot behind him.
He didn't hear anything, really, and all he knew was that Spot was still linked to him. He wasn't lost. Spot was with him.
But still.
When he walked into that living room, and saw Maria's face, he felt less... choked.
Maria jumped out of her seat, and no one could stop her from jumping on him, literally.
Race hugged her back; she was trembling.
And it was then he really realized just how bad his sisters must feel. Maria, who never really knew what was happening, and Sophia, who just pretended it didn't.
Isabella sat still, staring at him, and they made eye contact over Maria's head.
"Hey, Iz," Race nodded.
She nodded her head, letting out a long, long sigh. Which was Isabella's way of crying.
"I'm glad you're here," she finally said, as Maria finally disentangled herself from Race.
"Wish I felt the same," Race answered, and kissed the top of Maria's head before she could wonder if that comment applied to her.
"Have you been okay?" Isabella asked. "I was going to check on you when..."
"I've been fine," he answered. "Freaked out. But okay."
"I'm so pissed."
"Me too!" Maria put in, grabbing Race's arm.
"About Dad?"
"About how Dad treated you, idiot," Sophia corrected. "How... Everyone else feels, too."
"...Thanks?" he said tentatively. "I don't want you to"
"Tony."
He glanced back and saw Mario standing in the door. "You and Sean will be staying in the downstairs apartment. We'll... invite you up when it's appropriate."
"You'll what?" Race asked.
Isabella narrowed her eyes. "In other words, Tony, they don't want to admit that people like you and Sean exist in their close minded, bigoted vision of the world; and could you please stay away from the women and children, so we don't get infected?"
"Isabella"
"Am I wrong?" she snapped at Mario.
He ignored her. "Tony, go. Now, please."
The downstairs apartment was separated from the rest of the basement except the bathroom, with a small fridge, stove, a television and a couch that opened into a bed. It was designed so they could rent out a room and give the renter privacy, though they hadn't had anyone in it that Race could remember. And now, he was fairly certain, it wasn't so he and Spot could have their privacy so much as his family didn't even want to look at him.
But at least Isabella was supporting him. That was worth something... Worth a lot, really. So he wordlessly started to the isolated downstairs room, Spot following him closely.
When they finally got downstairs, Spot went right for the fridge.
"Uh" Race started, and then Spot whistled.
"You got booze in this thing," he said, pulling out a beer. "Jesus, someone's been staying here."
"What?" Race, momentarily forgetting his troubles (Spot did that to him), rushed over to the fridge. Indeed, inside, there was a case of beer, and a half-eaten angel food cake. "Woah...then I guess...maybe Marco stays here without saying? I dunno."
"Beer," Spot said, taking a swig. "Ugh, I need more. Maybe he's got some harder stuff packed away somewhere 'round here..."
"Spot!" Race punched his arm. "Yeah, real smart, getting smashed and then waltzing upstairs. I can see it now," Race put on a drunk face. "'Uuuuh...I din't tell 'nothing. Whatsa mafia?'"
"You suck at impersonations," Spot took another swig.
"Why are you so calm!"
"Ah ha, I'm in denial." Spot nodded his head and grinned. "So I'm feeling okay."
"Great."
"You know, you could probably use this more than me." Spot shoved a can of beer at Race. "Your family is full of shitheads. Except your sisters. They're okay."
"Yeah. Izzy can say what I want to, without..."
"Getting the shit beat out of her," Spot finished for him. "Drink. Seriously."
"I shouldn't. Because then I get to be the gay, cokehead, fucked up, alcoholic embarrassment to the family."
"Tony, serious. They treat you like shit but you're not." He shrugged. "Your family is an embarrassment to fucking humanity, okay?"
Race snorted and opened the beer.
"C'mere," Spot tugged on his shirt sleeve.
"Spot, we can't fuck now."
"I know, ya dirty minded queer. Just c'mere."
Race sighed, and trudged over to sit next to Spot on the couch. Spot slung his arm around his shoulder, and gave him a quick kiss on the side of the mouth.
"Don't get all twitchy. If all else fails, we can steal the car, and high tail it to Canada."
Race grinned. "Canada?"
"Yeah. They have Sloan."
"I'm sold."
"Yeah. And I hear the chicks are hot. And we both know how much we like those."
Race laughed, and Spot took a satisfying sip of his beer. "See? You need me everywhere."
"How can you be such a depressing little asshole usually and so perfect now?" Race stopped. "No, wait, that came out wrong..."
"I got ya," Spot said. He shrugged. "When other people have problems, mine usually kind of drift away and I get new ones. Yours. So..." he shrugged. "Fuck, Tony, I'm just a freaked as you are."
"They won't hurt you," Race said.
"Sure they will. They never really wanted to let me walk away. And hey, Marco already pointed out that they think this whole thing is my fault, which makes me the guy who got your dad arrested and the guy who turned the pure, Catholic little boy into a hellbound sinner."
Race kind of blinked. "You write a lot."
"What?"
"The way you talk when no one else is around, or when you're stressed. You talk like... I don't know. Interesting."
"You're a freak," Spot answered.
"And they won't hurt you," Race said. "Because there's gonna be press all over this and our friends all know where you are. You 'mysteriously disappear' and there's no way they won't get caught."
"God bless the free press," Spot said. "Seriously. Let's go to Canada."
"Can gays get married there?" Race asked.
"How the fuck should I know? And also, uh..."
"It was a question, not a suggestion," Race said, rolling his eyes. "I love you, but we're only seventeen. What're the odds of us getting... married, or whatever?"
"I dunno." Spot shrugged. "Assuming we both survive this, I ain't going nowhere, though."
Race grabbed his hand. "...Me, neither."
Race stared at him, and after a moment, Spot looked up from his free hand, and stared right back. In his weird, Spot kind of way.
"I really, really love you," Race said.
Spot's expression changed. It was kind of an indescribable expression; one that made Race uncomfortable. It was sort of pained, and really vulnerable.
That was how afraid Spot was. And that how much he needed Race to say 'I love you'.
Race kissed him, and he was sure Spot knew that he was going to be there through everything. As much as he could.
He pulled away, and they stared at the wall, hand in hand, because there wasn't another thing in the world they could have done then but hold hands and love each other.
Isabella was just sort of staring at Marco as he raided the refrigerator. She wasn't saying anything, but then, she hadn't said much of anything to him since she'd arrived home from college.
He dug until he found a container of soup and put it in the microwave, then turned to her. "Just say it, Izzy. You're dying to."
"You're an asshole."
"I was doing my job."
"Your job is to get my baby brother kicked out of the house?"
"My job was to keep an eye on Sean. What the hell was I supposed to do when I heardthat?"
"Try 'nothing,' Marco," she snapped. "Try talking to Tony, or Sean. Try not letting your own goddamn prejudice fuck up his entire life!"
He winced. He'd rarely ever heard her so angry. In fact... He wasn't certain he'd ever heard her so angry.
"I thought it was important enough to tell Uncle Paulo; how the hell was I supposed to know he'd"
"Because you know him!" she interrupted. "Don't pretend you didn't know what was going to happen. It's not like you went out of your way to defend him."
Marco's soup was ready, but he didn't move to get it. "I didn't want to get him kicked out. But..."
"But you're too close minded to stand up for him."
He got his soup then, because he couldn't look back at her. Because she had a valid point.
But it wasn't like he could just forget about what he thought was right and wrong. He'd always looked at... at Sean's kind like they were...
He couldn't even describe it. It wasn't even an option that someone in his family might be gay.
He'd panicked when he'd heard them in the garage. He'd panicked, and when he'd called Uncle Paulo, his voice had been wavering and he had babbled. It hadn't been professional.
Doing my JOB.
Yeah, he had. But he hadn't done it well. He was too... Well, scared, really.
It was kind of funny. He was in the mafia, he carried a gun everywhere he went, and he'd seen underground executions, and yet he was scared by his cousin having sex with a guy.
"Look at you," Isabella snapped. Marco tried to tune her out. "You get my baby brother kicked out, you ruin his life, and then you come here and EAT."
"God DAMN it, Isabella!" he yelled back, slamming the soup down on the counter hard enough that it splashed and burnt his hand. He shook it but didn't run it under water because he was too busy yelling. "You think I'm HAPPY about this? You think a single goddamn thing since Sunday has made me HAPPY?"
"You're unhappy?" she snarled back. "Why don't you ask Tony how HE'S felt since Sunday? Why don't you fucking THINK before you act?"
"Look," he said, attempt to regain his calm but not quite succeeding. "I don't care if Sean is gay. Whatever. I don't care if Tony's friends are gay. They seem nice. But, but Tony"
"What the hell is the difference if it's Tony or one of his friends!"
"The difference is that I'm RELATED to him! The difference is that he and I arewe'rewe've got so damn much in common!"
She snorted. "So what, it's possible for someone like you to be gay, so how do you know you couldn't be?"
"It's not like that."
"It's exactly like that. Christ, you're stupid."
He hesitated. "It's an abomination. It's disgusting," he finally muttered.
"Yeah? Well, right now I think you're pretty fucking disgusting." She walked out of the room and left Marco to his thoughts and his soup. He wasn't happy with the first and didn't even taste the second.
Race couldn't resist the urge to turn on the television. He knew it wasn't such a great idea, but on the other hand he wanted to know what was going on. And it wasn't like anyone upstairs was going to talk to him.
CNN went in cycles and it was only a few minutes before the story about his father came up. He leaned into Spot and listened as someone read the charges that were being brought: murder, accessory to murder, conspiracy, drug trafficking, racketeering, extortion...
He flipped to Cartoon Network instead. On second thought, he didn't want to know. He shuddered a little and Spot put an arm around him. He leaned into Spot just a little bit and wished he knew what to say. Even when they'd been kidnapped, they were able to talk; now there was just so much shit going on that neither one knew where to begin. So they didn't talk, they watched cartoons until there was a knock on the door.
Race was about to get up, but Spot kept a firm grip and said "Yeah?" out loud. Race elbowed him, and switched off the TV.
Marco opened the door. Marco came inside. Marco just stood there.
Race and Spot, who still had his arm about him, didn't really feel like starting up much of a conversation. Race had a pretty good idea what this was going to be about.
The idea of Marco hating him was so incredibly depressing.
"I don't hate you," Marco said.
Oh.
Well.
What?
"What?" Race asked.
"I don't hate you. I kind of hate him." He pointed at Spot. "But not even, really. I don't know. I wouldn't have."
"You're not making sense," Spot said, pulling his arm away from Race and picking up a loose paperback lying on the couch arm. "Fatty."
"I'm not fat, twig ass!"
"'I'm not fat! I'm not fat!' Now who sounds like a fag"
Race punched Spot so hard he was surprised Spot didn't snap.
"Ow, fucker!"
"You're going to get yourself killed, moron!" Race snapped.
They both kind of looked at Marco, who looked distinctly uncomfortable at that. So he just ignored it. "I just wanted to say. You know. I'm not... Used to thinking of you like... That. But whatever. I'll get used to it." He glanced around.
"Thinking of him like what?" Spot demanded.
Marco managed to only glare a little bit. "Like he's gay. And no, it shouldn't be different, but herewith this familyit is and no one has any clue how to handle it. At least I'm trying."
"Izzy bitchslapped you, huh?" Race mumbled.
"She yelled at me." He held his hand up. "I burnt myself."
"Okay..."
"Because I was pissed that she was right so I wasn't paying attention to... Yeah, anyway. I'm trying." He hesitated. "I'm sorry, Fante. I hope you know that." And to Spot, "And... I'm mostly sorry about what I said to you."
"Yeah, right," Spot muttered.
"For what it's worth, I'm still on the not killing you side of the argument."
"Yeah, I'm real glad to hear that. Anyone else up there not looking to blow my brains out?"
Marco hesitated, then sighed. "Honestly? A lot of people would be real happy if you had an accident. But it's not really feasible right now, so..."
"Great."
"Would you rather I lied, Sean?"
"No," Race answered for him, grabbing Spot's arm. "We hate lying about the important things."
And with that he pointedly kissed Spot. On the mouth. With tongue. Spot knew he was doing it just to see how Marco would react, but couldn't really object, and kissed back.
They gave it another few seconds before breaking apart. Marco looked kind of disoriented, then finally said, "Yeah."
Spot raised an eyebrow.
"You can't expect me to like it," Marco said. "But I'll get over it."
So Spot turned back to Race and mused, "So I guess it's a good time to mention Dutchy's crush."
Marco blinked. "Who? Who has a crush on what?"
"'What' is right."
"Spot!" Race snorted, and grinned a little at Marco. "Dutchy. The one we bailed."
"Yeah? He has a crush on you?"
Spot laughed at that, especially when Race shook his head. "Noooo," Spot said. "You. You charming little bugger."
Marco blinked, then blanched. Then shook his head. "That's not funny!"
"It is!" Spot insisted. "Oh, it's fucking hilarious."
"He' thinks you're pweddy, Marco." Race fluttered his eyelashes.
"I don't... give off that... kind of a vibe, do I?"
Race winced. "I dunno...you are wearing those pants. What d'ya say, Spotty?"
"Fag."
"I am not!" Marco growled. "That's not fucking funny!"
Race and Spot smirked.
Marco caught himself. "Okay. You're fucking with me." He paused. "Right?"
Race started laughing. Spot smirked.
"Right?" Marco asked desperately.
"Well, not about Dutchy," Race finally said, giving in.
Marco made a face like he was choking on someone.
"But he figured you were straight," he added, mercifully. Marco looked visibly relieved. "Gee, what, did that bother you, cuz?"
And then Marco actually smiled; Race calling him 'cuz' meant that even if he was still pissed, he'd get over it. "I'm sheltered," Marco finally said huffily.
"You're in the mob," Spot answered. "How the fuck are you sheltered?"
"You're an ass," Marco muttered. "So, uh. How long were you two, uh? You know... Uh?"
Race rolled his eyes. "Since before you met him," he said. "And he didn't turn me gay, so stop thinking that."
"I so did, though."
"Shut up, Spot."
"I so did."
"Shut up, Spot."
Spot smirked, but then, Spot had already been smirking. Marco gave them an odd look. "Okay. Well... Uh... Cool. I guess. Um... I should probably go be doing something. I just wanted to... Talk."
"Thanks," Race said, and was surprised that he actually meant it.
"Whatever, cuz. See you at dinner, Sean." He waved a little and let himself back out.
Spot turned to Race, grinning a little. "I'm so fucking hot; the entire family wants me."
"Except my dad."
"Well, he's just jealous."
"Yeah, that's what he is." Race hung his head, picking at his nails. Spot picked up his hand and tugged at his arm. "What?"
"I know he's a bastard, but...you don't hate him, I guess, so...how you doing?"
Race smiled. "Look who's going sooooffttt..."
Spot snorted. "Shut up."
"You are."
"Not."
"I love you."
"I don't love you."
Race kissed his neck, but didn't go any further; his thoughts were somewhere else. He just wanted Spot to know that him being there was absolutely everything right now.
Finally, Race said, "I do kind of hate him. But not for the mafia... thing."
Spot cocked his head a little. "You hate him because of Sunday?"
"Yeah." Race pulled his knees up to his chest and leaned on Spot's shoulder. "It's justparents are supposed to love their kids, right? And mine won't, and it's only because of this. They still cared about me even when I was on drugs, but since I like boys... I'm a piece of shit to them suddenly." He shuddered. "I hate it."
"They don't deserve you," Spot answered. "Serious, Tony. They put you through more than you ever did to them."
Race was quiet. That wasn't what he wanted to hear. He wanted Spot to tell him that they did love him; they just had a hard way of showing it.
But he knew that wasn't so.
"Besides." Spot shrugged. "You got Maria and Sophie and Iz, right? I mean, they're dorks, but you got them and...listen, you have someone."
Race glanced accusingly at him. "What's that mean?"
Spot shrugged. "I know things suck, okay? I do, but they could be a lot worse. You're gonna be okay. Not for awhile, but you will."
Race snorted. "Fuck you."
"No time."
"No, serious."
Spot shrugged again.
Race hesitated, then kissed Spot, because he needed something to take his mind off of how much he hated his family. And Spot was kissing back and it was working, his mind was slipping into its usual Spot daze, when a harsh voice cut in, "That's fucking disgusting."
Race pulled back quickly and whirled around to see Maurice and Mario standing just inside the doorway, glaring. He suddenly felt a little ill, and gripped at Spot's hand desperately.
Mario looked a little less pissed off than Maurice, though maybe that was just because Race wasn't his nephew. He raised an eyebrow. "I'd hoped Paulo was exaggerating."
Race shrugged a little, not sure what to say. He knew there was an interrogation of some sort coming, and that probably Spot's life was suddenly back in danger. Which made him squeeze Spot's hand even tighter. He wondered if it hurt, but if it did, Spot didn't let on. Spot just sat next to him and glared at the two mobsters who'd interrupted them.
"Anthony, how could you" Maurice started, then stopped abruptly and turned his attention to Spot. "We have some questions for you, Conlon. Why is it that... What, two weeks?... After you learned of our Family, one of our members is arrested?"
"How the fuck should I know?" Spot answered, knowing what was being insinuated. "I kept my fucking mouth shut."
"Really."
"Yes, really!" Race snapped.
"I wasn't speaking to you," Maurice spat back at him. "Sean"
"YES, fucking REALLY. Christ, you had me followed or bugged or whatever the fuck it is you guys do, you should KNOW that. I didn't want to get my goddamn head blown off so I kept my mouth shut!"
Maurice shot a look at Mario, who shrugged. "No one heard him say anything."
"Because I didn't."
"But we weren't able to have him followed in school. He could easily have told a teacher."
Spot snorted. "Yeah, 'cause you know, if I told a teacher, they totally wouldn't put me back in the Foster Center or off to Juvie."
There was a silence.
"You," Maurice snarled. "Keep your mouth shut, and come with us. Anthony, Maria is asking for you. If you mention one word about this fucking HOBBY of yours"
"She already knows."
"I don't care; don't infest the child with your filth."
Race bit his lip, and Spot bravely stood up, and didn't look back at Race as Maurice and Mario led him out of the room. Race was sure it was because of how nervous Spot was. If Spot looked at him, Race knew he might lose his bravado, might lose his cool completely.
He took a deep breath and hurried for the stairs to see his sisters. When he reached the living room, Sophie was cuddling Maria close to her chest, looking much too sullen for his tastes.
Izzy looked mean. Not sassy or intelligent, just mean. This was how she had looked during his addiction.
Izzy hid things with anger.
Race wordlessly sat on the couch next to Sophia, and Maria moved just enough to be cuddled in his arms instead of hers. He knew he was clinging to her as much as she was too him, and wondered if maybe that was a little pathetic, but didn't care. Because he so desperately wanted things to be normal, but nothing was. Nothing could be, anymore.
Finally, he mumbled, "I missed you."
"It's bullshit, Tony!" Isabella finally yelled, not able to contain herself. "I tried to talk to Dad beforebefore this, and to Mom and Maurice and no one will listen and this is all utter bullshit!"
"Yeah," he agreed. "But I've been forbidden to talk about it, and since they're probably upstairs beating the shit out of my boyfriend now anyway, I don't want to make things worse."
"I hate this, Tony," Sophia said quietly. "All of this. It all sucks so much..."
"Yeah." He gave Maria another tight squeeze. "Yeah," he repeated. "So what do we do?"
"Nothing. We can't do anything." Isabella crossed her arms and glared at nothing in particular. "It's all bullshit."
"Can you not say that around Carina?" Race asked weakly. Isabella just continued ranting under her breath. She glanced at Sophia, and sighed.
"You gonna tell him?"
Sophia shrugged, and stared silently and wordlessly at the wall.
"Tell me what?" Race asked, amazed by how quiet and pathetic he was starting to sound.
"Izzy, shut up," Sophia said. It was very unconvincing and Isabella paid no heed.
"They won't let her see Gabriel anymore, either."
"I know it's nothing compared to what's happened to you, Tony," Sophia broke in quickly. "You know, so"
Race grabbed her hand with his free one. "They all suck ass."
Sophia smiled weakly. "Don't speak that way in front of Carina."
"They do..." Maria whimpered.
There was another long quiet, and finally Race decided someone absolutely had to break the tension. It made things even worse for him to see how upset his sisters were, and he wasn't going to let them stay that way.
"That really sucks, Rosetta," he said mildly, "since it means you won't get to see our gig on Sunday."
She stared at him for a second, then her eyes went wide and her jaw dropped. "You got it?" she finally squeaked.
"Yeah." He nodded. "Assuming I can, you know, play and stuff..." He shrugged. "We got it."
"Oh my GOD!" Maria squeaked. "That is so cool!"
He glanced at Isabella, who smiled. "Good job, Fante."
"It isn't just me."
"But still. We'll find a way to see it. Somehow."
Marco walked vaguely nervously from the bus stop towards Sean's house. He knew he had no reason to be nervous. No one would do anything to him; probably no one would say anything. He was on Race's side, even. More or less. But still, he wished that he wasn't the one who got stuck with the job of picking up Race's and Spot's things, and the car.
Well. He didn't mind the car so much. Race had a nice car.
Hesitantly, he knocked on the door to Sean's house. It was answered quickly by a not-quite middle aged woman, and he could see David and the kid he'd seen briefly on Sunday night behind her.
"Can I help you?" she demanded.
He nodded a little. "I'm Tony's cousin." He offered her his hand. "Marco Constantine." She looked at his hand as if it was diseased. "I'm just here to pick up his stuff; maybe some things of Sean's, so he can be comfortable spending the night."
"Somehow, I doubt he'll be comfortable spending the night in a house full of bigots, no matter what he's wearing."
He visibly winced a little. "May I come in, please?" he asked politely, ignoring the comment.
She seemed to be debating silently, then nodded and stepped aside, so he could enter. He noticed that David and Sean's brother were both glaring at him, and he held up his hands a little, a gesture of surrender. "I like Sean. He makes Tony happy," he said in response to the comment no one made, knowing he sounded defensive. But... well, he was defensive.
"Is that why he was kicked out of the ho" but Jack was on top of it.
"Get my fucking brother BACK HERE!"
David punched Jack's shoulder. Denise sighed, and crossed her arms defiantly. "I'll go get some of his things. David, go grabs Tony's bag. Jack," she narrowed her eyes at Marco, "don't let him out of your sight."
David and Denise both marched out of the room, looking very high and mighty and kind of glorious. Jack stood proudly, hoping to look so as well, but he banged his knee on the coffee table.
Marco cleared his throat, hiding a laugh. He found it hard to believe Spot's brother was this eccentric, kind of brash teenager standing in front of him, holding his knee and letting out swear words under his breath.
"For what it's worth, I think my uncle was wrong," Marco finally said.
Jack glared at him. "Yeah, that's not worth much. Why the fuck would you kick him out and then bring my brother back with him?"
"I didn't kick him out!"
Jack said nothing.
Marco shrugged and finally said, "Tony's gonna have a nervous breakdown any minute now. Not that I blame him. Sean being there will probably help." And it was only sort of a lie, because all of that was true, even if it wasn't why Spot was there.
Denise walked back into the room, holding a backpack. "He'd better get to school on time."
"He will."
She shoved the bag into Marco's hand, as David walked back into the room, then gave Jack and David a serious look. She turned back to Marco. "We saw the condition Tony was in when he got here Sunday night. Half his face was bruised." She crossed her arms and glared and looked way more dangerous than any of the mafia men Marco saw on a regular basis. "And if I ever see him like that again, I won't hesitate to report it. I won't tolerate child abuse, and if I see it, someone will be brought up on charges."
Marco nodded quickly. "It won't be a problem."
"It had better not be."
"It won't."
"And my Sean had better come home safely."
"No one will lay a hand on either one of them," Marco answered.
"Good."
David handed him the bag of Tony's things. "Tell him to do his chem homework."
Jack looked ready to talk, but David shot him a look. "Can it, Jacky. You mean well and do badly."
Jack pouted.
Marco sighed, and shrugged his shoulders. In the long run, he really wanted these people to like him. They were funny. Protective to a hilt. Like him.
Or... like he had been.
"Thanks for your time," he ducked his head, and looked at David and Jack as he stepped out the door. "Listen, I know I've been pretty close minded, but uh, I'm trying not to be, so I hope you two are as happy as Sean and Tony."
David turned so red he looked as if his head was about to explode. Denise snorted and an angry Jack yelled after Marco, who was jumping into the car, "We're not GAY, damn it!"
As Marco drove back, thoughts were clouding his brain. Thoughts of Uncle Paulo, of his cousins, of what he'd done. For a moment, he regretted his... profession. And wondered briefly what he might have done if he hadn't gone into it.
No.
The only male who would be spared was Race.
He hoped, more than anything, he hadn't ruined the rest of Race's life. Then he laughed, because he knew he shouldn't give himself that much credit. He was just Race's cousin, and Race didn't give a shit what he thought, not after Sunday.
He'd blown it.
He was a bad cousin.
By the time he parked the Lexus in the driveway and made his way inside, dinner was being served. Which normally he'd be looking forward to, because dinner at Race's house was always amazing, and usually fun. Race and Sophia would throw things at each other, and Izzy would make a fool out of him and the rest of the family would join in good naturedly. Race would defend him, and usually end up making a fool of himself, too. Sometimes, Uncle Paulo would even join in with the jokes with is quiet, sardonic sense of humor, if he was in a good mood.
Marco knew dinner was going to be unpleasant tonight, though, no matter how good the food was. But he'd expected a cold war, not to walk into the middle of a nuclear blast.
Race and Spot were nowhere to be seen. Maria was crying quietly, Sophia had an arm around her protectively, and Isabella was yelling. His father was also yelling, while Mario and Aunt Angelina looked on coldly. He shuddered. He'd never seen Angelina look so stone faced before.
He stood in the doorway and tried to figure out what was going on.
"They're human beings, god damn it!"
"You will watch your language, young lady"
"Fuck you!" Isabella screamed. "Fuck you and fuck your bigotry and fuck all of this! He's my brother and if you're too homophobic to let him even eat at the fucking table with his own fucking sisters that I'm sure as hell not eating with you."
"Isabella, you WILL mind your manners"
"Or else WHAT?" she demanded, and picked her plate up off the table. "Fuck you, I'm eating downstairs with my brother and his boyfriend." She stalked out of the room.
Marco stared after her, but so did everyone else.
"Enough," Maurice finally said. "Let's eat."
Sophia hesitated, then picked up her plate and followed Isabella.
Maria wiped her face with the back of her hand, picked up her own plate and followed Sophia.
Marco stepped into the room. "Thank God you're back," Angelina said. "Please. After dinner, talk to Isabella"
"No, Aunt Angelina," he said, as gently as he could. Because it was pretty clear what had happened. "I'm kind of on her side, this time."
He reached for the plate that had been made up for him, and headed for the downstairs apartment.
When he stepped off that final stair, he heard Isabella exclaim, "What the fuck are you doing down here?"
He wasn't surprised.
Race was halfway through shoveling some kind of pasta in his mouth, and Spot was picking at a small piece of bread. Only a small bite had been taken.
He was impressed, of course, because there was a stove downstairs, and it seemed Race could take care of himself to an extent. He'd clearly had to scrounge for ingredients, but his meal looked pretty decent. Even if the bread had been smuggled downstairs.
"They didn't feed you?" Marco asked.
"Haven't you heard?" Spot mumbled. "Fags don't deserve to eat."
That caused a long silence. Mainly because Spot looked so...fucked up right then. Not even smart alecky, just half-gone into his own world.
Marco wondered what they'd done to him.
"Christ," Marco mumbled, and sat down on the floor, since it was the only place left to sit.
"What are you doing here?" Isabella demanded again.
"Same as you," Marco answered.
"Uh huh. They want you to keep an eye on us?"
"No, Isabella. My father is a dickhead and he's wrong. And I'm not going to sit there with them and pretend that he's not. I'm not that good of a son. Sean," he turned his attention easily, not wanting to have to answer any more questions about it, "your mom is scary. You okay?"
"Fine."
Which was clearly a lie, judging both by his tone of voice and the fact that Race put a protective arm around him. And the fact that he let Race do it. Marco swallowed; he knew just how much his father and Mario were capable of, stuff that wouldn't leave marks. Not where they'd be visible, anyway.
"You sure?"
"Yeah."
"My dad's a real dick and if I could fix things, I would." He shrugged and pointed at Spot's plate. "You gonna eat that?"
Spot shook his head.
"You're gonna get sick, Sean..." Sophia said. Spot didn't say anything. "Sean..."
"Let him be," Race said. "He's not hungry."
Sophia dropped it. She too was picking at her plate. Not hungry. "Tony, what are you going to do?"
"I don't know..."
"I'll take care of everything," Isabella broke in. "Don't worry. And now that Dad is gone, I think..."
She stopped, and glanced at Maria.
Obviously, Isabella wasn't too heartbroken by the arrest, but Maria had lost both her brother and father in under a week, and she wasn't taking it too well. She hid a sniffle, and bit her lip.
No one said anything else for a while.
Spot was picking at his skin.
Maria wasn't talking.
Race tapped his fingers against his knees and finally mumbled, "See, this is where cocaine helps."
"Don't go giving people ideas," Isabella answered.
"Fine. This is where a lot of alcohol would help. God..." Race trailed off. "How did this even happen?" He threw a look at Marco. "Dad didn't get caught because of... Of me?"
Marco shrugged. "Uh... Hard to say, cuz. Could be the Paparellis. Could also be a few other people, your dad has some enemies out there. Or he could just have been distracted..." He trailed off. "No, it's not your fault. It's illegal. We should probably all be in jail."
Maria had been sitting on the floor, leaning against Race's legs, but she moved slightly to lean on Marco and mumbled, "Are you gonna get arrested too?"
Marco leaned against the wall. "Could be. The investigations haven't started yet." He shrugged. "Don't you worry about it, Carina. No matter what, Tony and Izzy will take care of you."
"And me," Sophia broke in. "I'm not helpless, you know."
Marco turned red. "Right, I never said"
Sophia bit her lip. "Everything is shit, right now. Tony?"
Race glanced at her. "Yeah?"
"If you move out, can we come?" She averted her eyes, blushing slightly. "You know, if you and me and Iz and Maria are all together, it'd be a lot better."
Maria's eyes brightened. "Can we?"
Race stared, and then looked at Isabella. "Iz?"
Isabella shook her head. "You know Mom would find a way to get us back, Tony. Things don't work that way. I have school besides. You're all kids; you can't live on your own."
"Fuck that," Sophia snapped.
"I know," Isabella answered. "But it's the truth."
"Is Daddy gonna come home? Or is he like, screwed?" Maria asked.
"Don't say screwed!" Race snapped. Maria ignored him.
Marco sighed. "Depends." Which meant, yeah. He's screwed.
"Marcoooo," she whined. "Tell me, already. I hate it when people won't tell me what's going on!"
"Uh." He looked over at Isabella, who shrugged a little. "See, the thing is... Your dad's involved in some pretty bad stuff, kiddo."
"I... know." Which she probably did on some level; they all knew. But it was so hard to actually think of it as being a real, concrete thing. Race hadn't even really believed it until he'd seen it with his own eyes.
"So... If the police know as much as they claim they do... He might not be coming home for a long time."
"How long?"
"I really can't say, Maria. I just don't know what's going to happen." He gave Isabella a look. "Your mom's gonna freak on you, you realize."
"Let her."
"Uh, no. I can probably talk her down, if you want me to. She wanted me to talk to you."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah, apparently she mistakenly thinks that someone around here listens to me."
Isabella snorted. "Yeah. Like that's ever happened."
"I know. But... Serious, Izzy, Sophie, Maria... It was pretty awesome that you all walked out like that. You're good sisters." He finally set his plate down. "I haven't been doing so well in the cousin department lately."
"Duh."
Race grinned down at Maria and ruffled her hair. Marco turned red. No one defended him and he hadn't expected them to.
"So, I'm...uh..." He cleared his throat. "I'm sorry. Tony?"
Race raised his eyebrows expectantly.
"I'm... going to do a lot better. Sean?"
Eyes were back on Spot, who didn't say anything, nor did he acknowledge anyone was talking to him. Maria and Sophia were beginning to look a little creeped out. Marco quickly broke in.
"SO I'm going to do what I can to make things better. Well, better than they are now."
Spot shrugged a little. Marco stood up and put a hand on his shoulder; Spot shoved his hand away violently. Marco bit his lip. "Yeah," he said. "I'll be back in a little bit, okay?"
"What are you going to"
"Izzy. Trust me." He ruffled Maria's hair a little, and strode purposefully back upstairs, and the adult members of the family turned to stare at him.
"Can I help you?" Angelina finally asked coldly.
"'Hate the sin, love the sinner.'" He stared back at her. "You're his mother, Angie. Two weeks ago, you were thanking God he was safe; two years ago you were thanking god he was alive. And now you're seriously going to just... Abandon him?" Marco shook his head. "Honestly, I can't believe that. You love him too much. I know you do."
"Did you forget what you heard?" Mario answered. "You were the one who called Paulo"
"Yes. And I shouldn't have. I messed things up very badly on Sunday, but I've already apologized to Tony." He shook his head. "I know you aren't thrilled, but"
"It's just wrong!" Maurice yelled at him.
"But he's my cousin so I don't care, Dad. I really don't. He's safe, Sean makes him happy, and he's not on drugs at the moment, so what the hell does it even matter?"
Angelina cleared her throat. "Marco, would you please bring the children desert?" She gestured towards the kitchen and got up to walk with him out of the dining room. He wondered what she had to say that she couldn't in front of his father and Mario.
Angelina had baked some sort of very delicate looking cake, and she began to carefully carve it into slices before she spoke. He waited.
"Marco... It's hard for you to understand, you and Tony have always been close."
"You and he are closer. You're his mother."
"If it was up to me, I wouldn't have asked him to leave. But his father gave him the choice, and he took it. He'd rather be elsewhere than here; I respect his decision."
"He's seventeen years old and he was going to be grounded until he died, shipped off to military school, and forced to spend his life pretending to be something he's not. He was scared, Angie. I would have been. I heard the gunshot from the car."
Her hand slipped and the knife clattered to the ground.
"Listen; you care about him. You love him. I know you do. I know you're upset and don't know how to deal with him and Sean, but... You'll get used to it. But if you love him, you need to let him know that it's safe here for him and for Sean."
"It isn't." She picked up the knife and began to clean it. "Your father"
"My father isn't in charge. It's your house, and Uncle Paulo isn't here to say otherwise. He's your son. If you let things go on like this, you'll not only lose him, but Isabella too. And Sophia, and Maria..."
"I know." She started in on the cake again. "But I don't think it's right."
"Then you have to decide if it's worth losing your children over."
He didn't say anything after that. But when she began to put plates of cake onto a tray for him to carry downstairs, there were pieces for Race and Spot.
He met her eyes and neither one of them smiled. He wondered how long it would be before anyone in their family smiled again.
B: So. You know how in the last chapter we said we were busy? And that I needed an internship to graduate? Well, I FOUND an internship, and now have a 40 hour work week, am in tech week for a show, and graduation is looming closer and closer. (If you know anyone looking for an entry level journalist, please do let me know.) So, the upshot? I haven't had time to do ANYTHING in MONTHS.
F: Meanwhile, I have rehearsal for the school play of which I'm lead AND sound tech for, rehearsal for Annie Get Your Gun is hardcore, I'm directing a Woody Allen play for the school drama showcase and my actors are having trouble grasping the concept of FAST PACED COMEDY. So, for my spring break, I decided to ditch work in all degrees and just party too much. So I feel a little guilty that B doesn't get two weeks to party like I do...
B: Yeah, but I get senior week. Anyhoo, you should all know that we missed you. Anyway, we're nearing the end of the fic. Aren't you excited?
F: I am. But also...I think we'll go through a withdrawal period.
B: I'll need therapy, that's for sure. Sadly, I'll have no insurance to cover it.
F: I'll be your therapist! -claps-
B: Anyway, enough from us. See you next time!
F: Enjoy the chapter. Hopefully the next part'll be out before summer.
chapter celebrated with Tofutti Cutie fake ice cream sandwiches-