Indebted to the Mafia King

Eleni

A week after Mama arrived, we walk along South Beach with our sandals in our hands, looking out over the water at the Verrazano.

"—and then Adriani said, 'if you get another orange from that man, I'm going to nail them to his front door and let the streets run orange with the juices!"" Mama says.

I laugh so hard I actually have to stop walking. The sand burns my feet, but I don't mind. Mama and I have spent nearly every day together since she arrived, and as much as she complains about Theia Adriani, she tells stories about her younger sister almost constantly.

"Theia Adriani should meet Tony," I say when I get my breath back. "I think they'd either fall passionately in love or hate each other on sight."

Mama smiles. "Tony is the one with the very stiff hair, yes? And those lovely eyes."

I swallow down another burst of laughter and decide to tell everyone about the "stiff hair" comment later. "Yes, he is."

She nods. "And he is the right hand. Capo supreme."

"Caporegime," I correct.

"Of course." She looks out at the bridge. "You are happy here, zouzouni?"

I take a deep breath. The ring still sits heavily on my finger, the blue stones catching the light off the sea and glittering. Being engaged feels strange, half-real and half a dream. I'm not unhappy. God, I can't imagine being unhappy right now. Mama and I have spent a week-with Gianna almost more often than not-doing all the expensive things in the city we always talked about when I was younger and never dreamed of actually doing.

Every night, I've come home to Dante, knowing my place was beside him in bed, and usually come a few times before even considering sleep. It's like a vacation from reality. I haven't felt this light on my feet since I got into community college and Mama and Baba said they could pay for my first semester if I went part-time. I tug on the tracking necklace I've been wearing again since I got engaged and nod.

"Good," she says decisively. "Because I have been thinking it is time for me to go home."

I blink. "What?"

She takes my free hand and looks at me. "I love seeing you, zouzouni, but I have seen Parikia through an old woman's eyes now. My little seaside home is not so cramped as I feared when I was young. It is beautiful, and so much of my family is there."

I feel like someone's punched a hole in my chest. "I...I told you about the pool house, right?"

"You did." She smiles indulgently. "Your Dante is very kind to the both of us. But I don't think I belong in your back pocket anymore. You'll simply have to come visit."

"I know where Christos is buried," I blurt.

Mama takes a step back. "What?"

My stomach churns. I wasn't supposed to say it like this. I don't know if I was supposed to say it at all.

"Upstate." I blink back sudden tears. "He was...there was a raid. He got caught in the crossfire. Dante...found him. They were friends in college, so Dante took care of his body. And I know where."

She puts a hand to her heart. Her own tears spill, hot and painful. "I will see him."

I nod. "Just stay a little longer, and I'll take you."

"Don't do this to me, zouzouni," she pleads. "I can't live two lives. Let me return to the place where my family has not been killed after one last goodbye."

I stare at her for a long moment. My heart feels like it's being torn in two. I missed Mama even worse than I thought, and the idea of being alone here again aches.

My ring catches the light. I suppose I'm not really alone anymore. Dante will become my family. And with him, Gianna. Tony and Seb, in their own ways. The other capos I've earned the loyalty of. Maybe my world isn't so small that I need a Calimeris in New York City not to be lonely anymore.

I wrap my arms around Mama. "Okay. But you're coming back for the wedding."

She squeezes me. "I would not dream of anything else."

After a long moment, I release her, and we don't need to say anything to realize it's time to return to the car and drive home. The sun has started sinking over the horizon, and dinner with Dante has become tradition. Mama keeps interrogating him about what she calls "his character" and what I call "whatever she might disapprove of," a game Dante has survived very bravely so far. Maybe she'll ask about Christos tonight. I don't know what he'll say. Part of me wishes I'd told the truth about his death, but the rest keeps a picture of his face, drawn in pain, begging Dante not to tell his family. I needed the truth, but Mama only needs to know Christos isn't lost. I won't take her memories from her. We reach my car, and I scan my surroundings like I've grown used to doing over these months with the Saints. An older couple, sharing a single ice cream cone in the summer heat. A few children screaming on a playground. Two teenagers, making out in a place they clearly think no one can see them. Only a few cars. One of the cars catches my attention. It's a late-model sedan, dull brown-gray, like a million others. But I feel like I've seen it before.

Before I can puzzle out where, the door opens, and a dark-haired man in a suit gets out and looks at me.

"Get in the car, Mama," I say without looking at her.

"What? Zouzouni-"

I hand her the keys. "Get in the car."

She obeys without another work. The car roars to life, and I circle around it to meet the man a few feet away.

"You've been following me," I guess before he says anything.

"I'm new to town," he replies. "Or old to town, but I've been away for a while. You're Eleni, aren't you?"

I look him up and down. Black suit, white shirt, dark blue tie. Completely nondescript, like something a politician would wear. But I know enough now to notice how the suit doesn't quite fit him, like he's just about an off-the-rack size and doesn't have the time or money for a tailor. He wears heavy, rubber-soled shoes that look like office shoes, for if he needs to run. His underarm bulges with the telltale shape of a shoulder holster.

"I might be," I say. "That depends on who's asking."

"Henry Alcott." He flicks a card out of his jacket pocket and hands it to me. "A wayward branch of the Bellini line, if you can believe it. They say I have the nose."

I take the card but keep my gaze on Henry. Bellini means Tony and Seb, but I don't see any of their good looks in this man. Well, maybe in the nose. It could be Roman, in the right light.

"I just wanted to offer my congratulations," he says.

My heart skips a beat as he glances at my ring. "Thank you. We're very happy."

"I'm always glad to welcome someone new to the family." Henry leans in as if to kiss me on the cheek but leaves an inch of air between his lips and my skin. "I'm just here to make introductions, so I'll let you and your mom get back to your day."

Without another word, he turns and walks away, his oversized jacket flapping in the breeze off the water. I slide into the driver's seat of my car, confused and off-kilter.

"Who was that man?" Mama asks. "Are you in danger?"

"Henry Alcott." I look down at the crisp card in my hand, and the square, black print turns my stomach. "Special Agent, Organized Crime."