When they got on the train, Nova dropped his head back against the seat and looked up. Tino tugged at his leather bracelet again, still worrying about Romeo and wishing today was a Monday instead of a Saturday so he could work off some of the nerves.
Tino fucked on weekdays, when men went to work.
Nova fucked on weekends when party girls came out to play.
“What the fuck are we gonna do about Romeo?” Nova sighed, still staring at the roof of the subway car. “Cazzo, Tino, we are screwed.”
That pretty much summed it up.
There was nothing to be done about Romeo.
They were just fucked. Romeo was going to find out they’d been playing in Neverland instead of staying on the straight and narrow like they had led him to believe.
“Can I ask you something?” Nova asked in Italian, which meant it was private.
“Sure.”
“Are you gay?”
Tino frowned and turned to his brother. “What?”
“I don’t care.” Nova sat up straight again and looked at Tino earnestly. “I just need to know. I need to plan. Gay doesn’t fly in Cosa Nostra. They will fucking kill your ass. Badly. Then I’ll have to eat a fucking bullet, so can you just tell me and help me avoid a disaster?”
“You’ve been thinking about this,” Tino whispered in awe. “You’ve put actual thought into it.”
“It’s the dance-team thing,” Nova said in exasperation. “Why are you so obsessed with it?”
’Cause it made him feel normal.
’Cause it made Brianna happy.
’Cause he liked the way her ass looked in spandex.
“And it’s more than that,” Nova said before Tino could answer. “There’s something weird about you. I don’t know what it is, but you got that club-band thing going, and you never take it off.”
“You’re giving me shit about club culture?” Tino laughed in his face, even though the band had nothing to do with clubbing. Nova just assumed it did because so many Lost Girls and Boys wore them. “You are the rave-boy poster child. And you do poppers now. You have no room to be giving me shit about dance team.”
“Poppers make the roll more intense,” Nova said defensively. “There’s a specific reason I use them.”
“Poppers are gay.” Tino held up his hands. “Everyone knows they’re gay. They relax your muscles. There’s only one reason a guy would want that, especially since they can make your dick soft.”
“How do you know that? Where do you learn all this shit?” Nova pressed suspiciously. “They don’t make my dick soft, by the way. I have the exact opposite problem, if you’re wondering.”
“I wasn’t wondering,” Tino assured him.
“Are you gay?” Nova asked him again. “Please just tell me.”
“I’m not answering that,” Tino said in response. “If you’ve used your big brain to figure out the reason I’m fucked-up is because I’m gay, then whatever.”
“Last week Sara said she tried with you, and you weren’t interested.”
“So because I won’t let one of your party girls suck my dick on the D train, I’m gay?” Tino barked at him, and since they were speaking Italian, he didn’t bother to keep his voice down. “You’re an idiot, Casanova.”
“I have never seen more girls come on to a guy in my life, Valentino,” Nova said slowly. “And you don’t fuck them. Why?”
Because Tino was scared to death of compromising himself.
He didn’t want to know what would happen if Mary found out he was fucking off the clock. She went to great lengths to make sure he didn’t catch something. To make sure her product wasn’t compromised. Everyone in the high-class sex-trade rings was tested. Even still, Tino could write a book on safe sex because those mob wives were terrified of giving their husbands something and exposing themselves, but it still wasn’t worth it.
