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“What?” the Don said, looking rattled for the first time.
“Did he figure that since you are the dumbest fucking Fortunato to ever draw breath, he wanted you in charge of the Family so he could use you like a two-dollar whore, something he knew my father would never allow?”
“Hey,” the Don said, his face darkening, “nobody uses me, I use him?—”
“And did he know my mother was on that boat when he blew it up? Did you tell him that, you murdering bastard? Or did you tell him it was just another mob hit?” Shane heard his own breathing, saw the landscape in a red mist, and some small part of him said, Walk away now. “He still thinks you’re a dumb fuck, you know. That’s why he just told me. He thinks I’m going to kill you, which is good with him because he’s finished with you. He wants me to take your place. Consolidation. Government hitman and mob boss in one person. Easier. And then he thinks he can control me. All I have to do is kill you and I get it all.”
The Don’s eyes widened.
Shane shook his head. “But I’m not going to.”
The Don let out his breath and nodded. “You’re a good boy, Shane. You’re a good Fortunato. My heir. Next in line. You can put the gun down now.”
“I’m not going to kill you because I don’t have to,” Shane said, and turned and walked away as Frankie and Joey walked past him, their faces like stone.
The last thing he heard was the Don saying, “Frankie?” and then a fusillade of shots ripping apart the Saturday morning as he began the long walk back to Two Rivers.
He never looked back.
Agnes had fed Carpenter and Lisa Livia and Maria and the bridesmaids and a dazzled Garth—all that beauty in bathrobes and curlers stunned him—and then sent Garth off to help that floozy Maisie double-check the flowers, and to make sure everything for the wedding was in place, including the flamingo pen place cards, and to keep an eye out for Butch, who was late to pick up Cerise and Hot Pink. She also cleaned raspberry sauce off the pantry door, which had been locked the night before to prevent anybody getting at the cakes, Downer and his damn practical jokes, in particular. The raspberry sauce there made no sense, but then it was hardly the only incomprehensible thing in her life, so she let it go to step over Rhett, clean up the rest of the kitchen with Lisa Livia and Carpenter, and try not to wonder if Shane was lying in a pool of blood somewhere with two old mobsters dying beside him.
It was about nine when they heard Maria scream. Again.
“If she thinks Palmer is having sex with another stripper somewhere, I’m going to be annoyed,” Agnes said, but Lisa Livia shook her head and headed for the hallway calling, “What’s wrong, baby?” as Carpenter took the dish towel from her hands and said, “Go upstairs and do the bride stuff. I’ll hold the fort down here.”
“He’s okay, right?” Agnes said, not able to stand it anymore.
“He’s fine,” Carpenter said. “Somebody else isn’t, but he’s fine.”
Agnes nodded. “Okay, then. Do you think there’s any chance he’s going into a new line of work soon?”
“I think he could be persuaded,” Carpenter said.
“Yes, but would it be fair if I did that?” Agnes said. “I mean, it’s his work—” and then Lisa Livia yelled, “Agnes, get up here!” and she said, “Oh, just hell, Carpenter, what should I do?” and he said, “Get up there,” and she went.
When she followed the sounds of outraged female babbling, she found them all—Lisa Livia, Maria, and three bridesmaids all in slips and curlers—staring at Maria’s white wedding dress, now covered with purply red stains, the worst of which were two purply red handprints over the breast cups on the bodice. Small, Brenda-sized hands. She’s completely out of control, Agnes thought. She’s just destroying things now, anything to screw up the wedding.
“It’s ruined!” Maria wept, and her bridesmaids clustered round her and wept with her.
“Yep.” Agnes looked at it as she listened for the van. A car door slammed outside and she jerked her head to see out the window, praying it was Shane, but it was just the first wedding guests, complete with a little girl who was probably going to cry through the whole ceremony. Damned early birds, stay home and give your kid a nap.
“What is that horrible stuff?” Maria wept.
“Huh?”‘ Agnes said. “Oh, that’s the raspberry sauce from dessert last night.”
Maria looked at her, horror-struck. “That’s all you can say? It’s dessert? My God, Agnes, it’s my wedding dress!”
Another car door slammed, and Agnes looked again. Still not Shane. What was it with all these people coming early? It wasn’t like you got extra cake.
“Look, honey,” Lisa Livia said to Maria. “You?—”
“And you stay out of this,” Maria said, turning on her, with her acolytes around her. “You and your mouth, butting in all the time, that’s what got me that damn flamingo dress and that’s what I’m going to have to wear now and it’s all because of you?—”
“Hey!” Agnes said, seeing Lisa Livia flinch.
“I know,” Lisa Livia said to Maria, miserable. “Really, I know I screwed up?—”
“That’s not good enough,” Maria snapped. “You swear to me that you won’t say anything today, not one word at my wedding besides polite conversation, you will not interfere in any way, you swear it to me now.”
