“I know.”
I needed to change the subject. “So, is Peter still sick?”
His face lit up with joy. “Sick? No. Peter is a strong boy. He’s just fine.”
Apparently, while in Argentina, Peter had ingested something that made him terribly sick. When he finally got home, he was ill for several days that followed.
“I talked to Mom, she said he was thin. That he lost a lot of weight.”
His face went angry. He reached for the ham, paused and pulled a slice from the loaf. “His weight. Yes, he lost weight.”
I often wished my father wasn’t completely secretive about his dealings with the mafia. According to him and his men, the mafia didn’t exist. They claimed to be businessmen, conducting business. They never admitted to being part of anything larger, participating in any criminal activities, or being organized.
But everyone knew.
I learned more about what my father was involved in by reading about him on the internet, watching the news, and listening in on conversations when I had the chance. I was left to decide what I believed to be true and what I hoped were embellished lies.
I sighed. Men and their secrets. Michael said if I asked the right questions, I would always get the right answers. Maybe I never asked the right questions. “Why was Peter in Argentina for so long?”
The words came out before I had a chance to stop them.
He snatched another piece of ham. Then another. He plunged his fork into the pasta, became frustrated, and tossed it into the dish. He folded the capicola like he was angry at it.
He poked the ham in his mouth. “Business.”
I wondered if Michael’s statement regarding asking questions would work with my father. Considering what had been revealed about Michael, I decided to delve further. I reached for the ham and shot him an innocent look. “What kind of business?”
“What’s with the questions? Business.”
I tore the slice of ham in two. “Since when do you have business in Argentina?”
“Since now.”
Ask the right questions, get the right answers.
“What happened to him to cause him to lose the weight?”
He reached for the ham, paused, and glared at me. “He was sick.”
“Because why? What made him sick?”
He shrugged.
It wasn’t an answer. He was avoiding answering me. Maybe he was just like Michael. If he didn’t tell me anything, he wasn’t telling a lie, he was simply choosing not to respond.
“You don’t know why he was sick? What caused him to lose weight? You have no idea?” I poked half the ham into my mouth and waited for him to respond.
He opened the refrigerator door. “Cannoli?”
“You’re avoiding answering me.”
He set the cannoli down on the island and gripped the edge of the countertop so firmly his knuckles went white. “Why the questions?”
I decided to tell a version of the truth. “Vinnie and I broke up because he wasn’t telling me everything. He wasn’t being truthful. It hurt me. I just want to know.”
He shook his head. “You don’t need to know. He was sick. He’s fine now.”
I poked the remaining ham in my mouth and stared. He held my gaze for a long time. I struggled to keep from looking away. After what seemed like a lifelong stare-down, he sighed.
He released the counter, picked up one of the cannoli, and began to pace the kitchen floor. “Your family’s business stays in this home,” he said sternly. “It is not for your friends.”
“I understand.”
“I tell you. Don’t be upset. You want to know?”
“I won’t be upset.” I fought not to smile. “I just want to know the truth. For once.”
He stared.
I laughed, hoping to ease his mind. “I’m a big girl.”
He walked the length of the kitchen floor and nibbled on the cannoli. After pacing back and forth a few times, he took a deep breath and exhaled heavily. “Figli di putanna took your brother hostage. I had to get a man...”
Holy shit!
I knew it wasn’t business.
My heart raced.
He glanced at the cannoli, walked to the trash and tossed it inside. “A man specializes in such things. They wanted money. So much money. They threatened the family. The man, the specialist, he agreed to help. He rescued Peter from the savages.”
He looked at me with uncertain eyes. “Is that what you wanted to know?”
I was still trying to process everything, but I was glad he’d told me the truth. “Yes. Thank you.”
“People. They think we have so much money. We don’t.”
I knew better, but I agreed. “I know.”
He reached for the ham and shrugged. “I work hard.”