Page 47 of Vita Mia

“Yes,” Gianni said with a sly smile. “Why don’t you go check on Zio Nico? Let him know you’re in town.”

Eve shot Gianni her middle finger and stormed out. She slammed the door to the room so hard the glass window panes rattled.

“You’re a dick,” Gino said.

“She’s right you know. Papa doesn’t approve of this shit. None of this.”

“Papa isn’t here. I’m running this now. And I’m going to let Mum have her say. It’s her story. She should be the one to tell it.”

“I need pussy,” Gianni yawned.

“What does that have to do with anything?” Gino frowned.

“Means I’m leaving!” Gianni announced.

“Don’t go far,” Gino said.

Gianni walked out without a second glance. Gino’s gaze returned to the video monitor. He glared at Ryder. The phone rang in his office. He picked it up.

“Yes, I know,” he said to the caller.

“You’re watching?” he asked.

“Va bene. Then we agree. She tells her story, her way,” he said and hung up the phone.

He expected his little cousin Armando to have arrived already with both his younger sister and younger brother. Gino got up from behind his desk and went to the cabinet his uncles and fathers once drank from. He didn’t like alcohol like his brother, but he did have a taste for cigars. He plucked one from the humidifier next to the bar and then went to the long leather chair in his office and settled in. He cut the tips of the cigar and then used his father’s favorite lighter to flame it. After a long drag of the cigar he closed his eyes. He’d wait patiently for part two, to begin.

***

“ITHINK WE SHOULD TAKEa break,” Mia said to Ryder.

Mirabella glanced to her daughter. She saw the shimmer of tears in her eyes. She was so focused on remembering and telling the story of Belinda’s death that she forgot her youngest daughter was present. Leeza only knew bits of the history, not the full story. And she could see clearly it had affected her.

“Sure, it’s been two hours. Let’s do it,” Ryder said. “I can change out my memory cards.”

“Mummy, can I talk to you?”

Mirabella smiled. “Yes,honey.”

Mia got up and marched to the bedroom reserved for her mother and father. Mirabella found her daughter pacing; she was clearly upset. She closed the door.

“What are you doing?” MiaBella demanded.

“Why are you upset?”

“You’re blaming Papa! You’re telling the story wrong. The fire wasn’t his fault, Eve told me so.”

“I never said it was.”

“Why did you tell that ugly conversation between Papa and Uncle Clyde? Why? I don’t want this to be about Papa being some monster. He was a good father, and a good husband to you, that’s the story we should tell.”

“Listen,” Mirabella sighed.

“No! No!”

“Listen to me!” Mirabella insisted.

Mia sat on the bed and crossed her arms.

---