Page 10 of Mafia Captor

“No, you look young and vibrant. Inner and outer classic beauty.”

Glowing at my praise, she shoos me away. “Stop it. You’re complimenting the wrong woman. You need to be showing some of these beautiful single girls some attention. Not me.” Her gaze scans the room, hungry for a grandbaby-maker. “Look at all these gorgeous girls! And all from families we know and trust. Fellow Bostonians.”

“Ma, you love Boston too much.”

“Enough to name my firstborn son after it.” She raises her glass. “To you and to my favorite city.”

“To the two Bostons in your life.” I clink glasses with her, my whiskey swirling against the crystal. “Please tell me I’m your favorite of the two.”

She squints off into the distance, thinking. “It’s a tight race. You’re a close second.”

“Seriously?” I laugh. “You love the city more than your son?”

“Ah, you’re young. Boston’s always been there for me. I’ve had some wild nights downtown. Nights I’ll never forget.” Ma takes a swig of her wine while eyeing a pretty girl walking by. I’m sure she’s sizing up the poor girl’s hips for ease of birthing. “Grandkids could sway me. Could move you up the ladder to the top. Maybe even give you that thing you’ve been harassing me for.”

Prickles heat the back of my neck. My palms sweat, wanting to run to the library and steal it from my father’s shelves. “You could still give it to me. The night is young.”

She shoots back, “You could have had it in your possession right now, had you brought a date, you know.”

I have to hold in a sigh of exasperation. “I know, Ma. Your grandma clock is ticking. Sorry, all my usual escorts were booked tonight.”

“Stop it, Boston. You could have any girl in this city that you want.”

I think of sweet, innocent Ashely. The girl’d be scared to death of me. “Sure, Ma.”

“Sailor’s bringing a date tonight. He met her online.” Ma stares up at me, her look accusatory. “See how easy it is to meet someone these days?”

“Yeah.” I picture the girls my brother had to choose from on the dating app. Hundreds of plastic-looking faces with duck lips, quirky quotes filling out their profile to make them feel unique. I already know what she’ll look like. Five six give or take, thin but not toned, brown hair highlighted to make it look like she’s outdoorsy, clinging to my brother’s arm, staring up at him adoringly, trying to hide the dollar signs in her eyes. “She’s sure to be a gem.”

“Honey, I know I push you to date, but really I’m just worried about you.” Her voice goes soft. “I don’t want you to be lonely.”

Am I? Lonely? I don’t think so. I love my estate. I love my work. My dogs keep me warm. “I’m not. I’ve got my brothers. And my brotherhood.”

She rolls her eyes. “Yes, the beautiful Bachmans. I know. I’m happy you’ve found a second family to support you but my mouth to God’s ear. If you even think about ditching the Sullivans for Christmas, I’ll throw you off the Harvard Bridge.”

“Ma…”

“Sorry.” She leans her head against my shoulder. “I just love you, honey. I want you to be happy.”

I want to tell her that I am happy. But I don’t take to lying. “I’m not unhappy.” Her momentary softness makes me want to open up to her. “There is this one girl…”

She leaps away from my side like she’s been struck by a bolt of lightning.

“It’s not that serious—I haven’t even talked to her yet,” I say.

Then I realize, it’s notmywords that have her attention. She’s not even listening.

“Oh. My. God. There he is. With the date! Oh my God, look at her. She’s gorgeous. A little on the short side, but stunning. Do you think she’s a natural blonde?” She leaves me, crossing the room, calling for my brother. “Say Say!”

I go find more whiskey. Ma still calls him by the name he used when he couldn’t pronounce his own, Say Say. Yeah, I know. Ma’s terrible at names. I swear she ran out of good ones after mine—naming me for the city she loves and thinks she owns. Everyone but her calls me Boss, and after helping raise four brothers, I think the moniker fits me.

After me, she blessed the rest of my brothers with handles related to their conception. Sailor was created on my parents’ ten-year anniversary cruise. God rest my father’s soul, but that’s an entirely unattractive name. I did Sailor a solid when he was about six, dropping the first half of his name and going with Lor. I didn’t want him getting his ass kicked on the playground. So you could kinda say the kid owes me one.

Anyway, of us five brothers, he’s the good one. Our golden boy. Dark hair like mine, but baby blue eyes, muscles sculpted during weekly gym sessions.

I visit the bar, ordering another drink. While I wait, I take a glance at my brother. He’s wearing a perfectly fitted gray suit, a cute little sky-blue pocket square in his jacket pocket. It matches his bow tie. I crane my neck to get a look at his date.

My stomach drops to the soles of my uncomfortable shoes.

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