La Famiglia (41 page)

“I don’t want you stressed,” he said.

“Yes, I understand. Stress is off the menu. Believe me I know how hard it is to talk about your business. I just want you to know I’m your wife and you can tell me anything. Especially now with me stuck up here in bed. I’d welcome the conversation.”

He walked around the bed. She moved her legs a bit for him to sit down. “Who says you have to stay up here in bed? Huh?” he asked, giving her a kiss on her nose. “What if I carry you downstairs to the television room. We watch a movie together? Have lunch in front of the television?” he teased.

“Can I pick the movie?” she grinned.

“Anything you want, Bella,” he touched her belly. “I’ll do anything to make this better for you, Bella.”

“Then let’s do it.” She cheered. “Let’s get the pregnant lady out of the room!”

* B
*

It was the fourth dress shop they visited. Immediately when she entered the doors she suffered a bought of claustrophobia. Standers occupied all available space in the boutique. Once she and Catalina moved past them, deeper into the boutique, she understood the wait. A showroom with designer rack rejects was packed tight with anxious shoppers while many waited their turn. There were so many people stuffed inside yanking on clothes and then tossing them to the store sales clerks to find the right fit it was hard to see the clothes. Madness.

“Where the hell are we?” Marietta shouted over the noisy chorus of yelling shoppers.

“Down in
viale della Libertà
at
Francesca’s
! You Americans call this place ‘free spirit’ ” Catalina yelled back as she elbowed through.

“Never heard of it!” Marietta yelled back. She remained close. It was apparent Catalina knew where to go, but if they didn’t reach their destination soon she’d scream.

“Of course not!” Catalina yelled back with a laugh. “Follow me!”

A tall lean woman with blue black hair that had blunt bangs over deep set brown eyes shouted in Italian at Catalina. Marietta looked up to see the woman waving them through. Catalina reached back and clasped Marietta’s hand and she soon knew why. They were pulled hard through the crowd nearly knocking over several women. It was crazy. After reaching the woman they were ushered into a room and the door closed.

Marietta could at last catch her breath. The women embraced and spoke fast in Sicilian. Marietta could only catch a few words. Turns out from what she could tell Catalina and the lady were related, or considered each other family. Marietta looked around the office. All around were swaths of fabric and sewing material.

“Francesca,” Catalina turned and grinned at Marietta.
“Posso presentarle la signora Marietta Battaglia!”

The woman couldn’t mask her confusion. Catalina had just introduced her as a Battaglia.

“Non capisco?”
Francesca replied that she didn’t understand.

Marietta extended her hand and told the woman in Italian that she was Lorenzo’s wife. They had just married. The woman’s eyes stretched. Her mouth gaped. Marietta braced for an insult but the lady released such a gust of laughter that Marietta smiled. She then charged Marietta and hugged her neck.

“Congratulazioni!”
The woman cheered.

“Grazie! Millie grazie!”
Marietta said overwhelmed by the sincerity.

“Francesca isn’t like the rest of them. She’s married to an African!” Catalina grinned. Marietta’s brows lifted. She knew Catalina meant nothing by it. Francesca grinned in agreement with Catalina.

“I. Speak. English,” she said pointing to herself. “I. Am. Coooo-zin to Giovanni and Lorenzo!”

Marietta nodded.

The woman hugged her again and Marietta shook her head smiling. Francesca informed them that the day had been crazy since she announced the shipment of
Mirabella’s
clothes to the community. The women were lined up to get their hands on the designer originals. She thanked Catalina for giving her the business and went behind the desk to get a small gift wrapped in pretty pink paper. “For the
bambina
and
Donna
,” Francesca nodded.

“
Prego.
I’ll give it to her.” Catalina kissed Francesca.

The women went around the desk to discuss the next delivery and Francesca whispered some additional wishes and concerns to Catalina. Marietta felt a bit charged. She never considered the sense of self-confidence she felt when visiting these dressmakers as a Battaglia woman. At first they’d ignore her or cast her a dismissive look. And always Catalina would introduce her as Lorenzo’s wife. Immediately the attitude would change. It was an air of importance she never truly had in her prior life.

The business between the women concluded. Marietta loathed making her way back out of the door.

“Piacere di fare la sua conoscenza,”
Francesca said she was glad to meet her and hurried over to Marietta. Before she could respond the woman hugged her again.
“Mia Dio!”
Francesca took Marietta’s face in her hands. “She looks like the
Donna
,” Francesca glanced back at Catalina. “Do you see it?” she asked.

Marietta wasn’t sure what to say. Catalina just stared at Marietta and didn’t respond. Francesca laughed.
“Lei mi èmolto simpatico!”
she kissed Marietta on both cheeks and told her she liked her very much.

“Ciao,”
Marietta said looking to be released from the uncomfortable assessment.

“A più tardi,”
Catalina said as she kissed Francesca on both sides of her cheeks. Together Marietta and Catalina braved the crowds to elbow their way out of the store. Leonardo smoked a hand rolled cigarette outside on the street. He looked up when they emerged from the front doors of the boutique. Behind the dark lens of his sunglasses his stare remained fixed on them. He tracked their every move in and out of the stores. Smoking a cigarette was the first time she saw him take a break. It felt weird to have a shadow for the simple task of shopping. However, Catalina prattled on as if Leonardo didn’t exist.

“How about we eat? I know a great place.
Benissima!”
Catalina emphasized her point by kissing her pinched fingers and gesturing to the sky. “On my life, they have the best food in Palermo. The cook is a family friend.”

“I suppose.” Marietta agreed. Though she tired of being a tag-a-long she knew the alternative was the mundane existence at Villa Mare Blu. They started up the smoothly worn cobblestone street together. The shade of the joined three story buildings with medieval architecture along the narrow alley veered obliquely left casting her in the sparse sunlight. She looked down at herself and how she was dressed. Maybe she should have reconsidered her attire.

“It’s just around the corner,” Catalina pointed.

“Okay,” Marietta said. She noticed a few people, men mostly, step out of their stores to stare at her and Catalina as they walked up the street. At first she ignored the stares but soon it became hard to. “Did I miss something? Why are people staring at us like this?”

Catalina chuckled. “You are in Mancini territory. They are really staring at me.”

“Why?” Marietta asked.

“Let’s talk about it over a glass of wine,” Catalina smiled. She gestured for her to go to the restaurant with sidewalk seating to the left. Marietta was the first to step inside. It was quaint and noisy but the smell from the kitchen had a smell and heat to it that made her stomach muscles clench with spasms of hunger.

“Catalina!” A woman said. Startled Marietta stepped aside as a short round-bellied woman pushed through the diners and rushed over to greet them. The woman kissed and hugged Catalina to the point of squeezing her too tight.

“Prego!”
the woman then said to Marietta.

Marietta smiled her response.

The woman then solely focused on Catalina.
“Come sta la sua famiglia?”
she asked.

“The family is good, Belina. Thank you for asking. We are all very good. And Giovanni sends his love,” Catalina smiled.

“I hear we have twins coming?
Bambinos!
” Belina exclaimed.

“We do.” Catalina winked.

“Ah! Saints be praised!” The woman clapped. She stared at Marietta curiously. Catalina again made the same introduction she had done earlier. Belina’s eyes stretched. She laughed. “Lorenzo! He is just like Giovanni, no?” she said.

Marietta didn’t get the comparison but Catalina chuckled.

“Come.” The short lady started for the back of the restaurant. She pulled Catalina by the hand. Marietta and their bodyguard-chauffeur followed. Together they climbed a narrow stairwell barely wide enough for one person. At the top of the stairs they entered another dining area. This one wasn’t as crowded. The few diners were all men. Several gave respectful nods to Catalina and others leered from their tables. A few watched them with scowls to their faces and said nothing.

“Here… have a seat. I have something special for you both from my oven.” Belina announced. A young boy arrived with a wooden cantor and wine glasses. He poured dark wine into their glasses and filled them to the rim. Leonardo took a seat at the table next to them. He sat facing the men who kept cutting him deadly looks. He seemed unfazed by the tension. Marietta felt more jumpy than she ever had.

“Are we safe?” she whispered to Catalina.

“Huh? Oh them,” Catalina laughed. “Trust me they know better.”

“Where are we?” Marietta asked.

“I told you Mancini territory. This place is friendly to my brother, not the people, but the owners. That was Belina. She was a friend to my mother. And Ma-Ma didn’t have many friends,” Catalina said softly. Marietta looked over to the men staring at them. One of them with the darkest eyes lifted his glass and sneered at them. Catalina dismissed him and returned her gaze to Marietta. “Those men staring at us, they all work for Armando Mancini. He hates my brother.”

“I thought the
Don
’s name was Marsuvio?” Marietta asked.

Catalina’s eyes stretched. “You’ve heard of him?”

The slip was unintentional. Over and over Lorenzo warned her to not speak, but to listen and observe. Today her curiosity got the best of her. What she knew of the
Don
and Capriccio was very little but intriguing. It hurt deeply that there was nothing she could find to tie the man to her mother. “I heard Lorenzo mention him,” she answered.

“Oh,” Catalina said. “Well Armando Mancini is his son. He runs the family. I believe his father is ill. Either way, he and my brother have a truce. They’ve had it for years. Those assholes won’t harm us.”

Marietta let her gaze sweep the men. A few met her stare. One winked. All of them had the same dangerous aura that drew her to Lorenzo. She sipped her wine, cleared her throat and spoke. “So you were going to explain why people stared at us on the walk over? If there is a truce between the Battaglias and Mancinis why do I get the feeling that we aren’t wanted?”

Catalina chuckled. “You will have to learn to live with that feeling. Whether we are here or in Sorrento you will get stares, and a few scowls. It comes with the life.”

“Mafia?” Marietta asked.

“What do you know about our family?” Catalina asked.

“That you’re in the mafia. That your brother is the
Don
and my husband is one of his hired guns I think.”

“The
Don
huh?” Catalina grinned. “Is that what you think he is?”

“Of course. Isn’t he?” Marietta glanced around. Where was the joke in all of this? It was evident the man wasn’t the leader of the boy scouts.

Catalina leaned forward. “The
Mafioso
is birthed from Sicilians. My father is Sicilian. My mother is Irish. That makes me and Giovanni mix-breeds.”

“Mix breeds? Are you kidding?” Marietta laughed.

“I’m serious. He could never be a
Don
of the
Mafioso
. But he can be boss of all bosses of the
Camorra
. And trust me the
Camorra
makes the
Mafioso
look like toddlers.” Catalina sipped her vino. “My brother is the first
capo di tutti capi
in the
Camorra
in sixty years. Not even my father had as long of a reach as Gio.”

“So he is the
Don
and boss, right?” Marietta asked.

“Yes. Think of him as both and the two aren’t the same.” Catalina nodded.

“They sound the same.” Marietta replied.

“No. The
Don
of the
Mafioso
runs a single family, a region, and his reign is rarely challenged by the men in his
famiglia
. Traditionally his sons are the future, and their sons. If the family dies, then another family may take years to establish the respect he has gained. The
Camorra
isn’t just one family. It consists of family clans. In the
Camorra
you have a boss and he is respected but replaceable. No clan boss is higher than another. And if he is the
boss of all bosses
he must be the fiercest, most ruthless of them all. Giovanni has earned the right to be both. And that is why they stare at us. They stare because I ‘the half-breed’ and you ‘the black American woman’ are from a
famiglia
able to command respect where we go only because of the blood my brother has shed,” She tossed her chin a little higher. “We are Battaglia. We are the alpha and the omega.”