Or the wife.
Tino was a thousand times more nervous about meeting this bitch than he was about seeing his father again. He knew his father. He hated him, but he knew what to expect from Frankie.
He’d been raised to fear the wife since he first sucked in air.
Tino didn’t know what the wife had to be so pissed off about. So her husband boned another woman. Big deal. Tino’s ma was dead, and the wife was still living it up in Dyker Heights.
And it wasposh.
These people had so much fucking space. Big brick houses, with tall black fences. Manicured green lawns. There was more grass than Central Park. To Tino, who grew up in a small, rent-regulated apartment, it just looked so open and wasteful.
They drove past a golf course.
A friggin’ golf course.
In New York City.
No wonder the Italians had abandoned East Harlem and Little Italy had been reduced to a few good restaurants and a guided tour of mafia murders.
Twenty-first-century mobsters had Dyker Heights.
They could blend in with all the doctors and lawyers, ’cause why the hell not?
Harlem. Hell’s Kitchen. Little Italy.
Bullshit.
Maybe fifty years ago.
Now slumming like that was for thegoomahsand the bastards they gave birth to. Real gangsters raised their families in the suburbs.
“This one has an attitude,” Miss Laura said as she opened the car door. “Big-time.”
“You think this one has attitude.” Frankie Moretti walked past the big wrought-iron gate that opened electronically in the driveway. “Try dealing with the other one. They gotstugotslike their father.”
Tino turned and glared at him for that.
“What?” Frankie laughed, looking completely unfazed by Tino’s fury over his life being ripped apart. “You wanna take a shot at your old man?”
Tino made a gagging sound.
Like he was father of the fucking year or something.
“Smart-ass.” Frankie leaned past Miss Laura to smack Tino’s head. “How’s your ankle?”
“It’s my leg.” Tino refrained from mentioning it was super sweet of Frankie to send his government lackey to make sure Tino was loaded in the hospital instead of coming down himself. “It’s broken. That’s how it is.”
“What the fuck am I supposed to do with that?” Frankie asked Miss Laura. “Mary’s not gonna take him. It could fucking fall off for all she cares.”
“Take him to Dr. Acciai in Bensonhurst. He’ll get it taken care of for you. I’ll have them send everything over to him.”
“When?”
“He should go in a few days.”
“Minchia.” Frankie groaned in frustration and eyed Tino. “I work for a living. Do you know how to take the bus?”
Tino gave his father a look of disbelief. “Yeah. I can wipe my own ass too.”
