“Answer one question. Do we hate him or not?”
“Not.” My answer came quick. How could I hate him after he sacrificed his life for mine? But how could I not be angry with him for not telling me the complete truth right away? Having enough of my issues, I turned to face her. “Who’s Cashel Kelly?”
The car swerved and I glanced at the mirror, wondering if one of the guys had caught up to us. It seemed all clear, but they were sneaky. I expected them to act like cops and pull us over at any minute.
“Cash,” she said underneath her breath. “Almost everyone calls him Cash. And Stone told you about him.”
“Not exactly. He was fishing for information the night we had dinner.”
She nodded. “What did you tell him?”
“What could I tell him, Kee? I have no idea what’s going on!”
“Cash Kelly is Harrison’s new boss.”
I waited a few minutes. “And…?”
“He’s not all he seems to be.”
“That seems to be a trend lately. Go on.”
She turned to me and narrowed her eyes. “Wait. Where are we going?”
I told her about the little figurines, but asked if she could just pass by, so I could get the name of the shop. She agreed and took a detour, heading in the right direction.
“Are you in love with Cash, Kee?”
She threw back her head and exploded with laughter. “If New York was a wild cement forest, I’d be the archer and he’d be my target.”
“I don’t like the picture you painted in my mind. I keep seeing him running away from you, a bullseye on his back.”
She grinned. “We shouldn’t talk about this anymore. The baby. Let’s talk about the baby. Tell me more about these figurines and the theme you’re going for.”
Even though I wanted to call her out on her odd comment, I told her about the figurines and how cute they were. When she found a parking spot not far from the store, right in front of Dolce, I shook my head. “I only need the name, Kee! Let’s go. We’ll go shopping somewhere else.”
“Why is your face pale? You have bubble sweat over your lip, and it’s colder than a polar bear’s oonie outside. Did something happen to you here?”
I bit my lip, fiddling with my purse. “Yeah. I had some bad veal parmigiana. Just awful.”
“Liar.” She squeezed my hand. “You stay put. Keep the doors locked. I’ll just run in and see if they’re still there. They obviously mean a lot to you.”
Before I could stop her, she was out of the car, hustling to get to the little shop.
“Shit, shit, shit,” I chanted. I was in the heart of Scarpone territory. Dolce. The name almost made me want to puke. There was nothing sweet about that restaurant or what had happened right outside of its doors. I wondered how many people had been murdered in that alleyway. If the Scarpone family owned it, there was no telling. My legs bobbed up and down. I pulled out my rosary, worrying the beads again. This time I kept thinking please let her hurry up.
As I looked up, I saw four men coming out of the restaurant. Achille. Arturo. One of his grandsons, I thought; the one who looked like Armino. And, maybe, the guy Achille called Bobby.
They all looked like big dogs with their expensive coats and suits, three out of four smoking cigarettes, and all of them wore identical “I own this fucking place” looks. The wolf tattoos only upped their scary factors.
Keely came down the street at the same time they walked toward her.
Achille stopped, watching her walk past. It was hard not to notice her. She was a bright flame in complete darkness. Her hair was curly, wild, and flaming red, and she’d pulled it up on the sides, making her seem much taller than what she was. Drawn to her, maybe because he was so fucking cold, he watched her walk all the way to her car, where he noticed me sitting next to her. His eyes narrowed and he took a step closer. He whistled and his son and Bobby came to stand next to him. He nudged Bobby in the ribs.
“Keely.” My voice came out so low that I made myself talk louder. “Get us the fuck out of here!”
“You know them?” She narrowed her eyes in their direction, while she started the car.
“Fucking go!” I shouted.
“All right! All right!” She swerved into traffic, barely missing a taxicab. He shot us the bird as he whizzed past. Then he got in front of us and kept tapping on his brakes. “Was that the Scarpones?”
“How do you know that?”
“Fucker!” She laid on her horn. She whipped around the taxi driver, giving him the bird as she passed him up. Then she did the same thing to him. Cut him off and then started tapping on her brakes. “I’ve heard things. I was curious so I looked them up online. I didn’t find anything too juicy, but those tattoos mean something, don’t they?”
“It doesn’t matter.” I waved off the tattoos, trying to downplay the fact that my husband had one, too. “They kept staring. It scared me.”
“It should. They’re insane.”
“Yeah, I got that.”
“Bad news.” She blew out a breath. “No more figurines.”
My heart pounded overtime, but at that, it sank. “What happened to them?”
“Someone wiped them out.” She checked her outside mirror and then went a different way. “Maybe you can find another store that has them. They’re French, like you thought. Antiques. The seller said they’re rare. Expensive. He told me to try a place in Paris. He wrote down the name. I have it in my pocket. Maybe you can ask Scarlett if she knows anything about it. I remember her saying that she lived there for a while.”
I shouldn’t have risked the trip for the figurines. I should’ve asked her to look when she was alone. When I wasn’t in the car. It bothered me that someone had bought them, but what bothered me even more was what I’d done.
Maybe I’d put my husband in more danger. If Achille connected me to Italy, to Amadeo, maybe he’d make sense of something. Or become curious enough to find out what I was doing on his territory, after he’d seen me on the church steps in another country, the day of Nonno’s funeral.
To make matters worse, the figurines were gone. The risk wasn’t even worth it.
It took me a few minutes to realize we were headed in a familiar direction. “Where are we going, Kee?”
“Harrison’s. I told him I’d swing by later, but then you called. I’ve been meaning to give him his baseball glove from when he was little. When we moved out of Mam’s place, somehow it got mixed with my stuff and I kept telling him I forgot it at home whenever he asked me for it. I took it to Home Run without telling him and had Caspar frame it with his old jersey. I was hoping to surprise him. I never bought him a house-warming gift. And he got a new puppy. I’ve been dying to see it.”
“I don’t think that’s such a good idea, Kee. I should go home.”
“Come on, Mari. You can still be friends with him. We don’t have to stay long.”
I thought about it for a minute. If the Scarpones were tracking us, maybe it was better not to go home right away. I didn’t think they were. I’d been staring out of the outside mirror since we left, but chancing it wasn’t worth it. Maybe I’d have Giovanni pick me up from Harrison’s. Or better yet, wherever we went shopping after leaving his place. Yeah, that was a better idea. I wouldn’t even mention Harrison or the house on Staten Island.