CHAPTER SEVEN
CAPONE
“You’re late…” My mom’s words die on her tongue as her eyes connect with Tara. “Oh, hello.” She lifts a hand to right the unicorn party hat that sits on top of her head. “Gianluca are you going to introduce your mother to your friend?”
I refrain from rolling my eyes as a shit-eating grin stretches across her face. The woman is so transparent.
“Mom,” I warn. “Get that look off your face.”
“What look?”
“You know what look,” I return.
By the time Sophia blows out the candles on her cake, my mother will be planning my wedding, and Nonna will have knitted a pair of booties for the kid I’m never going to have. That’s what happens when you never bring a girl home to meet the family. They lose their fucking minds at the first sight of a female and jump to all sorts of ridiculous conclusions.
Reluctantly, I glance over my shoulder at Tara. She has no fucking idea what she’s in store for. I almost feel guilty, then I remember the stint in the mall, and how she had me sifting through the clearance bins in Victoria’s Secret in search of a hot pink thong she just had to have.
I tag her hand and bring her to my side. “Tara, this is my mother, Francesca. Ma, this is Tara, Maverick’s daughter.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Mrs…” Her voice trails as she leans into me. “How the hell do you pronounce your last name again?”
Before I can respond, my mother does.
“It’s Capizzone, dear. But please call me Francesca.” Keeping her smile in place, she looks from Tara to me. “Maverick. Why do I know that name?”
“My dad is the president of the motorcycle club Capone is a member of, so essentially he’s like Capone’s boss.”
My mom crosses her arms against her chest, pursing her lips as she gives me a pointed look.
“Capone, huh?”
I turn to Tara. “She’s not a fan of my road name.”
“It’s insulting,” my mother scoffs. “Then again, I wasn’t a fan of you joining that motorcycle club in the first place.” She brings her eyes back to Tara. “No offense to your father, but we hoped Gianluca would go into the pizza business like my husband. Did you know we had a pizzeria in Chicago? We were known for making the best deep-dish pies in the Magnificent Mile.”
It’s true. The Capizzone family recipe is unmatched, but when Carmela announced she was getting married and moving to North Carolina, my parents sold the pizzeria and moved us all here. There was no way they were going to be miles away from their grandchildren. A couple of years ago my old man tried opening another pizzeria, but it didn’t take off like the one in Chicago. We went from making pizzas to pouring cement. If you need pavers, call Capizzone Landscaping. We’re the best. You need a pair of cement shoes? We do that too—not that we’ve ever actually sent a body to the bottom of the river, but we could if we wanted too.
“You know what else is insulting? The fact that you haven’t let us inside the house. But you don’t see me calling you out on that, do you?”
My mother snarls at me, dropping her arms to her sides as she glances back at Tara. “I’m sorry, dear. This boy has a habit of testing my manners.”
I was Tara’s age when I shot to my full height, towering over her by an entire foot. The fact that she still refers to me as a boy is comical. Then again, she’d still cut my food into tiny pieces if I let her.
She takes Tara’s hand, finally leading her inside the house. I follow them, balancing Sophia’s present as I close the door behind me. The scent of my mother’s cooking fills the house, as does the boisterous voices of my obnoxious family.
It’s going to be a long night.
“I did know about the pizzeria, Francesca. A while back my parents bought one of those outdoor pizza ovens, and my dad, well, let’s just say appliances aren’t his thing. He can take apart a Harley with his eyes closed, but he calls someone to change the filter on the heating system. Operating the pizza oven was way out of his wheelhouse, so he called in the reinforcements.” She pauses and turns to me, a smile playing across her pink lips. “Capone saved the day and probably my parents’ marriage. He even taught my dad how to make sauce from scratch. It was hands down the best pizza I ever had.”
I bite the inside of my cheek. I vaguely remember the day she’s talking about. It was around the same time Shady was hiding Bianca in his apartment. Certain Maverick knew I was covering for his brother, I was paranoid as fuck and couldn’t wait to leave the Burnside house. How I allowed myself to get roped into making a fresh marinara sauce is beyond me. But what’s more mind boggling is the fact that Tara remembers the day so vividly.
“Best pizza ever, huh?”
She winks at me. “You should make it again for me some time.”
The odds of that happening are slim to none. Imagine me asking Maverick if I can borrow his pizza oven so I can feed his daughter? He’d shove my head inside the oven and tell me to fuck right off.
My mom pipes in. “Yes, you should, and you should invite your mother over when you do.” She leans into Tara. “You don’t mind if I crash your dinner, do you? I’ve only seen the inside of his apartment once. Can you imagine? His father and I put a roof over his head for twenty plus years and now that he’s on his own, he never invites us over. He knows how to drop his dirty laundry off on my doorstep every Sunday though.”
Jesus Christ.
“Ma, please.”
She an eyebrow, silently daring me to argue. It’s not like I’m intentionally avoiding my mother. I’m here, aren’t I? That should count for something. So what if I haven’t had her or my dad over to my place. I don’t even have a fucking table. I have two bar stools and a countertop. If she saw the beanbag chairs I use as a sofa, she’d have a stroke. And let’s not forget, it’s never just her and my dad. They’re a traveling circus. They always have Nonna and a grandkid or two in tow. Where would they all sit?
“Would it break your heart to make your mother a pizza?” Tara questions, pulling me away from my racing thoughts. My gaze slides to her, instantly recognizing the glint of mischief in her eyes. I think the girl might like toying with me just as much as I like toying with her. I can’t tell who is better at it, though. Right now, she’s winning for sure.
I glare at Tara. “This is all your fault.”
She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “I was only trying to praise your pizza making capabilities. I didn’t realize you were a scoundrel who abandoned his parents.” She wags a finger at me. “Tsk. Tsk. Capone. You should invite your mother over to your apartment. Cook her dinner. Afterall, she did give you the gift of life.”
Man, what I’d give to swat her ass right now.
I bet that would shut her up.
Instead, I flip her the bird and follow her and my mom into the dining room.
Mature, I know. Maybe I’m regressing.
As soon as Tara enters the room, everyone goes silent. It takes a minute for the chaos to ensue but once my mother starts introducing Tara to the rest of the family as my quote-on-quote friend , it’s on.
My sister Annmarie is the first to attack.
“Friend, huh?” she questions as she bounces the baby in her arms. As the second oldest of my sisters, she tends to break my balls the most.
“Shut up,” I grunt. My eyes scanning the room for the birthday girl. Maybe if I give her the gift now, we can cut out before the cake. “Where’s Sophia?”
“She’s in the living room with the boys. She can probably use your help. Being the only girl in the family sucks, even when it’s your birthday.”
Try being the only boy.
I can almost guarantee that shit is ten times worse.
My sister seems to forget she and her friends used to polish my nails whenever they had a sleepover. Once they even put a full face of makeup on me. I looked like a ten-year-old drag queen. Shuddering, I push that miserable memory to the back of my head where it belongs and point to the baby in her arms.
“She’s not the only girl.”
She glances down at her daughter, pressing a quick kiss to the top of Gianna’s head.
“Yeah, well, all this one does is eat and shit. She doesn’t care about princesses or unicorns yet. Hence why her sister is celebrating her birthday with a Nerf gun battle in the next room.”
“Speaking of princesses…” My voice fades as I hold up the perfectly wrapped present. “Where should I put this?”
Annmarie eyes the gift. “Did you wrap that?”
“No, don’t be ridiculous. Tara did.”
She smirks at me. “Your friend Tara wrapped your niece’s birthday present.”
“Yes, and to be honest, calling her a friend is generous. The only reason she’s here is because her father asked me to watch over her. She just broke up with her boyfriend and he’s afraid she’ll get back with him.”
Annmarie scrunches her nose. “Oh, I remember those days. Daddy getting involved, sticking his nose where it didn’t belong.”
I want to tell her that I remember those days well too. That the memory of them is what got me into this fucking mess in the first place, but I keep my mouth shut.
“You bringing her here though is a pretty bold move. It’s going to give Nonna ideas.”
I don’t know if that’s such a bad thing. If Nonna thinks Tara is my girlfriend, it might buy me some time on the whole producing an heir saga.
“Good, maybe then she’ll get off my back.”
“Are you kidding? She’s going to make daddy take her to the vault to get her engagement ring for you.”
Annmarie is right. This can go either way.
“You’re fucked,” she says in a rather matter of fact tone.
“Thanks.”
Chuckling, her gaze cuts over my shoulder.
“Incoming,” she warns. I turn around just as our other sister, Daniela, rushes toward us.
“Oh my God! I love her,” Daniela gushes, giving my arm a friendly punch. It’s the Capizzone language of love. If we’re not busting balls, we’re hitting one another.
“Easy,” Annmarie cautions. “He gets squeamish when you mention the l word. Besides they’re not even friends. Our little brother here is just babysitting the pretty girl who keeps making googly eyes at him.”
“She’s not making googly eyes at me,” I mutter, my gaze cutting across the room to where Tara is sandwiched between my dad and Nonna and sure as fuck those hazel eyes of hers are pinned to me.
I frown.
Why does she gotta look at me like that ?
“You should probably rescue her before Nonna gets her ear,” Annmarie suggests.
“No way,” Daniela argues. “That girl can hold her own. You should’ve heard her correct Pop when he called her father a gangbanger. It was priceless.”
I tear my gaze away from Tara.
“Shit,” I hiss. I need to get her away my old man before he says anything else insulting. I shove the present into Daniela’s arms. “Put this with the others, would you?”
I don’t give her a chance to object, as I step around her and make my way to the dining room. I take two steps into the room before my oldest sister, Carmela, bombards me. Its days like this when I wish was an only child.
“You’re dating a seventeen-year-old? Really?”
Ah, there she is. The voice of reason. If you need a hard dose of reality, see Carmela. By the time she’s done with you, she’ll have you questioning your purpose for being on this Earth.
“I’m not dating anyone.”
“That’s not what mom says, and here I thought you were looking to graduate from the kids table.”
In my twenty-seven years, I’ve learned I cannot win when it comes to my sisters. They’re incorrigible and I’m just here for the hazing. I stare over Carmela’s head at Tara, watching as she laughs at something my dad says. She seems to be holding her own just like Daniela said. If I go in there, the rest of the clan will likely grill me and I’m tired of explaining the situation. It’s not like anyone actually listens to a word I say anyway.
That’s why I leave Tara in the trenches taking grenades and make my way to the family room to join the Nerf gun battle. If one of my mother’s Giorgio Armani statues breaks, so be it.
“Uncle G to your left!” Carmine calls. As the second to youngest, he jumped at the chance to be on my team and we’re currently kicking his two older brother’s asses.
I crawl across the floor, hiding behind my dad’s recliner as I fire off a round of foam bullets, effectively taking out my oldest nephew, Vito.
“Take that, sucker!” Carmine cheers.
“I’m out of ammo!” My namesake, the second oldest cries.
Carmine’s head pops up and he leans over the back of my mother’s couch.
“That means we win. Right, Uncle G?”
I bite the inside of my cheek to stop myself from laughing. In an attempt not to lose an eye, he fixed a pair of swim goggles to his face. They’re entirely too big for him, but he looks cute as fuck.
“That’s not up for me to decide,” I tell him, turning to Sophia who sits perched on the recliner. A glittery tiara rests on the top of her head, appointing her the birthday girl. “Princess Sophia must declare the winner.”
“Uncle G’s team wins!”
A grin spreads across my face as I roll onto my side, propping my head on my hand as Carmine tosses his gun to the floor and jumps up and down on the couch, celebrating the victory.
“I want a rematch,” Vito calls from across the room.
Normally, I’d give in—anything to avoid spending time with the adults who always seem to be on my case. But I’ve left Tara in the dining room with my family for too long.
“Sorry, kid. I’ve gotta go rescue Tara from the rest of the clan,” I say, pulling myself up.
I shove my little Nerf gun into the waistband of my jeans and tousle the top of Carmine’s head.
“Good match.”
“Leaving us to go smooch with your girlfriend?” Vito taunts, halting me in place.
I turn to him, narrowing my eyes.
“Not you too.”
“She’s not his girlfriend,” Sophia says. “Uncle G is never getting married. My mom says he’s a butcher for life.”
“Bachelor,” I correct with a smile.
“No, she said butcher,” Sophia insists as her wide eyes lock with mine. “Do you really cut the hearts of all the girls?”
Jesus Christ.
“No. Don’t listen to your mom.”
“But she’s my mom.”
Oh, for fuck’s sake.
“Grandma said she’s your girlfriend when you got here,” Vito argues.
My eyes slice back to Vito. “Your Grandma’s got pipe dreams. Now, help your brother pick up all the bullets, and while you’re at it, put the cushions back on the couch.”
“What about you?” he volleys.
“One of the perks of being an adult is that you don’t have to clean up.”
“That’s not fair.”
“It isn’t but it gives you something to look forward to.” I think back to the Nerf gun battle I had with Shep and Theo. Tara was right about the broom. I glance at my nephew. “Get the broom. It goes faster if you sweep them up.”
“What about Sophia? Doesn’t she have to help?” Carmine asks.
“No, it’s her birthday.”
With that I leave the boys to the mess and head for the dining room. Annmarie stops me before I can enter the room, shoving her baby into my arms. It’s like they can smell me or something.
“She just spit up all over me. I have to change my top before we do the cake.”
“And I’m the only one who can hold her while you do that?”
“Your girlfriend seemed up for the task, but since you’re the baby whisperer of the family….” Her voice trails as she disappears up the stairs. I don’t know when I got dubbed the baby whisperer. What happened to just being fun Uncle G?
I glance down at the baby. “Don’t spit up on me too.”
“Hey.”
Startled by the sound of Tara’s voice, I lift my head.
“Hey, I was just coming in there to rescue you.”
Her gaze bounces from Gianna to me and she raises an eyebrow. “A little late for that, no?”
I flinch. “I’m sorry.”
She shrugs. “It’s okay. I think I won your mom over. I’m not sure about your dad, though, and your grandma…well, I can only make out every other word she says. The good news is I seem to have a job babysitting your nephews on Thursday.”
“What?”
She nods. “Your sister needs to get her IUD switched out and your mom has to take your dad to pick up his car from the mechanic.”
My brows pinch together. “An I U what?”
“It’s a form of birth control.”
I shudder. That can be added to the list of things I never want to discuss, along with Tara’s virginity.
“You’re not watching my nephews. If Carmela needs someone to watch the boys while she gets her tubes tied, I will.”
She laughs. “Your sister isn’t getting her tubes tied. An IUD?—”
I cut her off.
“I don’t need the details.”
“Fine,” she relents. “But you’re not off the hook. I told her to drop the kids off at your apartment after three. It was either that or have her drop them at the clubhouse, and I didn’t think that was the best idea considering your dad thinks we’re a gang.”
I slick my tongue over my teeth.
I balance the baby in my arms and clear my throat. “Don’t you have some teenage shit you should be doing on a Thursday afternoon?”
Her eyes narrow. “Nothing screams teenage shit more than babysitting now does it, Gianluca?
“What did I tell you about calling me that?”
“Consider it payback for leaving me alone in there. If you disappear again, I’ll tell all the guys at the clubhouse your mom breastfed you until you were three.”
My eyes widen and she grins cheekily at me.
“I learned a lot about you today, Capone. Don’t try me.”
She turns on her heel, sashaying her hips as she meanders back into the dining room. I stand there watching her for a moment, then I reach for the little pistol tucked into my jeans and I use the last foam dart to shoot her in the ass.
She glances over her shoulder at me.
“Payback,” I mock. “It’s a bitch, darling.”