Page 124 of The Deadly Candies

“Fuck you!” Matteo spat. He stormed to the far corner, his shoulders heaving, hands raking through his hair like he wanted to tear it out.

Carmelo pressed his palms to his eyes.Kathy.Sweet, fierce Kathy, who’d followed him into hell because he’d sworn there was no other way. If she ever found out—if she knew he’d upended her life over alie—she’d walk out that door and never look back.

He forced himself to stand, crossing the room to Matteo. His brother was shaking, veins standing out on his forehead like live wires. “Matteo,” he murmured, gripping his shoulders. “Breathe.”

“Shemarried him,” Matteo choked out. “Imadeher do it. Shebeggedme, and I?—”

“Listen to me.” Carmelo cradled his brother’s face, thumbs digging into his stubble. “The girls canneverknow. You hear me?Never.” He glanced back at Samuel, then lowered his voice. “But we got the papers. Right? You brought ’em.”

Samuel nodded slowly. “They won’t be legal unless filed?—”

“Did you bring them or not?” Carmelo snarled.

Another nod.

Carmelo turned back to Matteo, gripping the back of his neck. “Then we stick to the plan. We marry ’em tonight. Show ’em the papers with the seal, make ’embelieve. We keep those documents safe, and one day—one day—we file ’em for real. Debbie divorces José. Kathy comes home. Your sonknowshis father.” He shook him gently. “You protected her.Bothof ’em. That wedding he went through today ain’t nothin’.”

Matteo sucked in a ragged breath, his fists unclenching inch by inch. Carmelo pulled him into a rough embrace, his own chest aching. Behind them, Samuel watched in silence, his glass untouched.

Some truths were worse than lies.

37

The Wedding II, Brooklyn, NY 1949

The back door creaked open, letting in a gust of chilly November air. "Welcome to Mama Stewart's," Mama said, her voice warm but her eyes sharp as she took in Ely's tense posture.

"Thank you, ma'am," Ely murmured, stepping inside and wiping his shoes on the worn mat. His hand was tight around the strap of his small tote bag - all he'd brought for this dangerous night away from Harlem.

Mama Stewart guided him to the back room where three shadows waited in the amber glow of a single hanging bulb. Carmelo stood abruptly when Ely entered, his chair scraping against the wooden floor. The two young men locked gazes - one dark-eyed and wary, the other burning with desperate hope.

"The girls?" Carmelo's voice cracked with tension.

"Next door. Ready for you. José, too," Ely answered, his eyes moving over to the unfamiliar older man sitting at the table - some white judge in a coat that probably cost more than Ely made in six months.

Judge Foly gathered his leather attache case with practiced ease. As Matteo brushed past Ely without a word, his winter coat swirling like a storm cloud, Ely caught the raw anguish in the Italian's red-rimmed eyes. This was a man walking in misery. Returning to a bride who wasn’t his. A sin of his own making.

Carmelo, however, hesitated at the door. He stood before Ely. Thank you, Ely," he said, his Italian accent thickening with emotion. "For bringing Kathy. I know the risk you took."

Ely's jaw tightened. "I didn't do it for you."

The words hung between them, sharp as broken glass.

Carmelo's hands twitched at his sides. For a heartbeat, Ely thought the hotheaded Italian might throw a punch right there in Mama Stewart's sacred back room. Then Carmelo surprised them both - he extended his hand, palm up, in a gesture of peace.

Ely stared at the hand offered. The calloused fingers trembled slightly. Behind Carmelo, Mama Stewart crossed her arms, her silent warning clear: any trouble, and this whole fragile plan would collapse.

With a slow exhale, Ely shook Carmelo's hand. The handshake lasted only seconds, but in that moment, some unspoken understanding passed between them - two young men caught in a storm not of their making. Both are in love with Kathy. One would win and one would lose. Ely conceded he had lost the Battle but would not give up the war.

As Carmelo disappeared into the alley, Mama Stewart bolted the door behind them. "I'll feed you back here," she said, turning to Ely. "Those Harlem boys you brought are killers. They out front getting takeout. When they're gone, you can come out." She hesitated, then added more gently, "Got a jazz quartet tonight. Might help pass the time."

"Thank you, ma'am." Ely's bag slid from his shoulder like a weight he could no longer carry.

Mama Stewart studied him with knowing eyes. "You really care for her, huh?"

Ely stiffened. "Ma'am?"

"That little show with Carmelo," she said. “The only reason Kathy’s father let her out of his sight tonight was you vouching for her." When Ely didn't deny it, Mama sighed. "I don't know how this story ends, child. If there's any good left in those boys, it's in Carmelo. That's why Kathy loves him so. But..."

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