Page 86 of A Favor Owed

“It’s over,” he says, still holding on to me.

“What?”

He steps away, his eyes shining. “The district attorney called my lawyer this morning. It’s over. They’re not filing forgery charges.”

I drop down into a chair and rip the beanie off my head so I can run my hand through my hair. I stare at my dad as he takes the seat across from me. “How? Why? Did you give them what they wanted?”

“No,” he says. “I never gave them the names.”

For weeks, we’ve been waiting for charges to be filed. My dad’s lawyer walked him through various possible plea agreements, all of which carried some jail time. The only certainty was the hopelessness of the situation. Until today.

She didn’t. She wouldn’t. I told her not to do it.

And yet…

No. She hates me. She wouldn’t do it.

Amid the profound relief and joy, an uncomfortable feeling is pricking the back of my mind.

Two more weeks pass before everything comes crashing into place. We’re all at our house watchingMonday Night Footballwhen a breaking news alert comes on during halftime.

Mob boss Angelo Pini arrested.The headline accompanies live footage of a tall, movie-star-handsome man with slicked-back gray hair and a defiant smirk being led from a brick mansion in handcuffs.

I jump out of my seat, knocking over Siobhan’s popcorn in the process.

“Hey!”

I shush her and she stomps off to make some more popcorn. Mikey follows her, probably to sneak a beer.

“Dad!” I call. He comes in from the kitchen. I point to the television. He sits down next to my mom, and we listen to the announcer.Elusive mafia boss Angelo Pini has been arrested at his Staten Island home on federal human trafficking and racketeering charges. A dozen women alleged to have been forced to work at strip clubs he allegedly owns have been placed into protective custody. Due to Pini’s extensive wealth and dual U.S.-Italian citizenship, bail is expected to be denied.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” murmurs my dad. “Did you know anything about this?”

“No.” I’m furious, at Lou, at Angela, at myself.

“I know you told Lou you didn’t want her involved,” says my dad. “I would have given up the names if I thought he’d go this far.”

“And I would have told you to if I thought she’d go this far,” I say.

My dad looks at my mom, who’s sitting there with an astonished expression on her face. “She gave him up?” she says.

“Sure looks that way.” I sold her out, and she did it anyway. She saved my dad.

“What are you going to do?” asks my dad.

After I let her have it for putting herself at risk like this? “Marry her.”

I’m not kidding. I’m way beyond girly relationship stuff. I want the whole relationship enchilada with her. A wedding, a honeymoon, a walkup in Queens, fights over what color to paint the bedroom. (Honestly, though, that would never happen. She can paint everything salmon pink and baby-shit yellow for all I care.) Speaking of baby shit, I want that, too. Not so much the shit, but the babies. The bottom line is, I love her—her courage, her determination; I even love her attitude. It doesn’t solve anyone’s problems, but it’s the god’s honest truth.

“Brady,” says my mom, her face etched with worry. “She has a target on her. She’s his daughter.”

“I don’t care,” I say. I’m already watching her walk down the aisle to me.

“You’re being impetuous, Brady,” she says. “You’re not thinking.”

“All I’ve been doing is thinking, Mom. About her.”

“Brady—”

---