The Untouchables(98)

“Thank you, Nicole. We will see you inside, we have great wine.” That shut her up and sent her running like a dog with a fresh scent.

“Now Mel, before you threaten to kill me—” Evelyn said.

“We’re beyond that, Evelyn. I’m now trying to figure out where to dump your body.”

Sighing, she rolled her eyes before taking my arm in hers. “Mel, I know you hate this type of thing, but it’s all I have. You have your empire, well this mine. I handle public image. I’m the reason why, if God-forbid you all need character witnesses, we have people to spare. My first grandchild is going to have a goddamned baby-shower and it’s gonna be the best one in the state. There will be cake, there will be pictures, and there will be baby games. You will handle it out of pure love for me, Mel, because you have not seen me crazy yet. Once they are drunk enough, you can leave, okay?”

“I want Liam here. None of that all female bullshit,” I replied, waving at a few more women as they stepped out of their cars.

“He’s already here.” She smiled, leading me to the door.

This would be the longest few hours of my life.





LIAM

Everything within the house was dripping in blue and white; blue and white chairs, blue and white crystal chandeliers, paints, gift bags. If you could see it, it was either blue or white. It had taken her six hours to pull this shit off while Mel and I weren’t home. Which meant she must have been planning this for weeks, and my father kept his mouth shut until it was too fucking late.

There were more intoxicated housewives in my house than in all of Orange County; and they sat in one massive circle around Mel, in the midst of our living room.

“She’s being…unlike herself,” my father whispered beside me. We were prisoners, unable to move out of the room, but unable to get close to the damn circle. So all we could do was stand by the door with our tinted blue wine glasses and watch.

Mel laughed, pulling out yet another wool onesie, which would go great with the wool vest she had gotten before, along with the silk scarf, cashmere booties and the red fleece jacket. After all, newborns just love their fleece. Mel smiled and thanked them before looking up at me and showing the ridiculous outfit. All of them snapped their necks as they turned towards me, awaiting my approval; it was only when they weren’t looking that Mel’s brown eyes glazed over with rage. She was being tortured, but so was I; all I could do was nod and grin as well.

“How much longer must this charade go on? I have plans for us tonight,” I whispered. Though now that my mother had sprung this on her, I doubted Melody would want to go.

“Until your mother has enough pictures to fill up half your child’s baby book,” my father answered. “What are your plans?”

Pulling out the tickets from my coat pocket, I handed them over to him.

“Bianca e Falliero by Felice Romani?” he read. “I wasn’t aware you enjoyed opera. It’s a beautiful one.”

“I don’t, she does. And since when do you know opera?” He had never once spoken about that hobby before.

He smirked. “I know all, son.”

“Bull—”

“Who is this from?” Mel asked, searching the white box in her hands for a tag or card. No one answered, each of the women looking at each other commenting only on the wrapping.

“Were all the gifts wanded and hand checked by the men?” I asked my father, leaning off the wall when Melody’s eyes met mine again.

“All of them were, including that one. I saw to it myself, though we didn’t check for cards,” he responded.

Each one of the women leaned forward, all of them dying to see what was inside. I, on the other hand, was not taking any chances.

“Can a father-to-be open one of the gifts? Or am I breaking some ancient tradition?” I winked at them, causing Mel and my mother to roll their eyes while the sane women giggled.

“Oh, I don’t see why not. Right, ladies?” one of them said.

“Of course!” another answered.

“This is so sweet,” someone else said. “You guys should take a picture. Right, Evelyn?”

Coming up to my wife, I kissed her cheek before taking the box slowly out of her hands. The whole thing was padded and soft when I lifted the lid. I mentally prepared myself for everything but what it was…

“Aww!” they cooed as I pulled out the white teddy bear dressed in the finest black suit a bear could have, along with a top hat and a small tommy gun in his hand.

“A little violent, but so cute,” said another one of them.

“Liam, sweetheart. There’s a note in the jacket pocket.” My mother pointed and sure enough, right in front of its tiny red handkerchief was a little card that had only two words and a letter written upon it: