Wiseguys In Love Read Free

a breath—“never left his gun laying around.”
    â€œYeah, Pop hid it so you wouldn’t find it and take the bullets out.”
    â€œYou coulda been a lawyer,” she said, waving her hands out to him.
    He walked back to his bedroom and she followed.
    â€œI can’t play this game with you every morning.… I gotta pick up Solly in fifteen minutes.”
    â€œYou coulda finished school.”
    â€œThey threw me out. Okay?” He glared at her hotly and she looked away.
    He breathed out and there was silence for a moment.
    â€œTake the coat,” she said, picking it off his bed.
    â€œI don’t—” he began as she held it out.
    â€œI’ll make you a trota alla Piemontese. tonight, okay?” she said, helping him on with the coat.
    â€œFine,” he muttered, sticking the gun in his pocket. What the hell, wear the coat, he thought, you’re probably going to be dead by tomorrow, anyway.
    â€œFather D’Amico wants to know why you never come to confess no more.”
    He knew he had to make a run for it now or he’d be there forever.
    â€œI don’t got time now.” He trotted out to the hallway.
    â€œHe misses seeing you there.”
    â€œI’m not gettin’ up at five-thirty to go tell somebody my sins, okay?” he said, half-running to the front door.
    â€œBut if—”
    â€œMa, you got my bullets, you got me to wear the coat, you got enough this morning. Bye.” He kissed her on the cheek.
    He bolted from the door, down the front steps, and ran toward the limo parked at the curb. Tony Mac rolled down the window as Michael ran across the lawn.
    â€œWe gonna be late,” he warned, opening the door.
    â€œI don’t want to talk about it,” he said, swinging himself into the front seat.
    Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of his mother, running across the lawn, waving the umbrella at him.
    â€œStart the car,” he ordered Tony as he slammed the door.
    â€œMichael! Michael Antonio! You forgot!” she yelled, almost there. Her frame, smaller now since the death of her husband, still bounced up and down. For a sixty-six-year-old, she could run like the wind. He held his hand out for the umbrella as she got to the car.
    Her dark blue eyes shone down at him softly. Her bluish white hair was coiffed high, in the same way she’d worn it for the last twenty years, and added to her height. The blackness of her dress, stockings, and shoes was broken only by the floral apron tied around her.
    â€œOkay, Mom, thanks.”
    â€œDon’t be late. I’m making trota and it gets dry. You bring him home early, Anthony?”
    â€œYes, Aunt Sophia,” Tony Mac said, smiling up at her.
    â€œYou’re a good boy,” she said to him, and stepped back.
    Tony pulled the car away from the curb so fast, it squealed. He drove to the corner and made a stop at the sign as Mike rested his head on the back of the seat and exhaled loudly.
    â€œI gotta get a place. She drives me crazy.” He stared at the dark blue roof. “She means well, but since Pop died…” He lifted his head up and looked at Tony.
    â€œMake a right.”
    Tony grimaced at him.
    â€œShe got the bullets again, uh?”
    *   *   *
    Sophia watched the car turn right at the corner and then roll out of sight. She felt herself sigh and shook her head as she turned to walk back to the house. What could she do? Gina’s words kept coming back to her and back to her.
    â€œHe’s making his bones. Solly’s taking care of him.…” It had echoed slightly as they left church that morning. It had echoed through her brain as they stopped for pastry and espressos, although Gina would never mention anything that sensitive in a restaurant. All Sophia had heard was that terrible news. And she couldn’t even say anything to Gina about it. It would insult her, that her son was giving