Chapter 21: Our Thing: Chapter 21

Max leaves to join his brothers, and I spend the next few hours preparing for the wedding. After slipping into my dress, a nude, backless piece that stops at mid-thigh, I straighten my hair, then spray it to keep it smooth. Positioning myself in front of the mirror, I apply a tiny amount of makeup, contouring my face, adding little ticks to the corners of my eyes, and smacking on natural gloss.

As I stare at my reflection, I feel a flutter of nerves. This is definitely a sexier look than I usually go for. I’d like to see Toni call me an asexual pigeon now. I giggle. I’d like to see him call me an asexual pigeon at all. I’m a falcon now. I giggle again.

It’s 4:00 p.m. when I slip on my wedges and join Flick and Stacey on their way to the chapel. It’s a classic building with stained glass windows and steep walls and is surrounded by lush, green grass. Indonesia might be predominantly Muslim and Hindu, but it’s a wedding destination for all faiths.

I try to catch Stacey’s eye, flicking her a smile, but she pretends she doesn’t see it.

She merely picks up pace and strides ahead of us. ‘There’s going to be over three hundred people here today. If we want a seat, we better get a move on.’

I stumble on the cobblestone road. ‘Wow.’

‘That’s insanity,’ Flick says, scooping her long red hair to the side.

‘I don’t even know three hundred people,’ I say, chuckling awkwardly.

Stacey stares straight ahead at the church. ‘Family has flown here all the way from Sicily and most of them haven’t even met the bride and groom, but it doesn’t matter. If you’re Family, you’re invited. If you’re not invited, well, there’s a message in that.’

I struggle to keep up with her as she charges ahead. ‘Three hundred is a big family, ‘ I say.

She glances over her shoulder at me. ‘Yeah, it is, Cassidy.’

I still. ‘Stacey, stop walking.’ She slows. ‘I’m so sorry about the way Max spoke to you. Don’t be upset with me.’ She halts altogether. When she turns around, she’s even more tight faced than she was before.

Flick eyes us both. ‘What’s going on?’

‘Cassidy and Max are officially together,’ Stacey says.

Flick forces a smile and looks at me. ‘Well, that’s what you wanted, right?’

I refrain from beaming like a silly little girl. ‘Yes.’

She nods. ‘Are you happy?’

‘Knee-weak happy,’ I say.

She laughs a little. ‘But do you trust him?’

‘I have to. I’ve decided I’d rather risk heartbreak than regret.’

Flick seems to like that response because she touches my arm and grins. ‘Well, if you’re happy, then I’m happy.’

‘Cool, we’re all fucking happy!’ Stacey says. ‘Max sticking his dick in another girl is the least of your fucking problems.’ She spins on her heels and continues down the street.

I cringe and call after her. ‘Please don’t be mad at me, Stacey. I’m seriously sorry. Max was a jerk.’

She swirls around to face us again. ‘Stop apologising for him! I’m used to Max Butcher and his moods and his holier than thou attitude. Bronson and Xander have my back, so don’t you dare feel sorry for me. Yesterday was just about Max feeling vulnerable and needing to beat his chest. . . Anyway, I’m not mad. I’m worried.’

I sigh. ‘About Max.’

‘Yes!’

‘Why, though? I’m not going to hurt him.’

She groans at the sky. ‘Because you’re everything Jimmy has ever wanted for Max! With you in the picture. . . he can control him.’

I take a step back and frown. ‘Jimmy has been wonderful to me.’

‘I’m sure he has.’ She closes the gap that I’d just made. ‘Have you ever wondered why?’

I blink at her. ‘Because he likes the ballet. He’s sponsoring me.’

She smirks. ‘That’s very nice of him.’

I swallow hard and look around nervously. ‘Max doesn’t care that much about me.’

‘Even if that were true, he only needs to care a little.’

‘No one can control Max.’

‘I saw you do it yesterday.’

I breathe out fast. ‘You’re making me really nervous.’

Flick clears her throat. ‘I don’t understand what you two are talking about.’

‘The Mafia, Felicity.’ Stacey whispers the words and yet we still flinch. ‘I’m so sick of trying to keep their secrets when they are just throwing you guys in anyway and asking me to babysit.’

‘Woah.’ Flick steps back and crosses her arms. ‘Babysit?’

‘I was told to bring you, Felicity. I was told by Jimmy because he thought Cassidy would feel more comfortable if you came.’

I cover my mouth to smother a gasp.

Flick exhales slowly. ‘Okay.’

‘And he wanted Cassidy here because he wants to see her with Max.’

Flick frowns. ‘So you don’t want me here?’

‘That’s what you’re taking from this?’ Stacey says, wide-eyed. ‘What about the part about the Mafia?’

Flick scoffs. ‘I already knew they were involved in something illegal. The whole fucking District is corrupt. What I didn’t know was that you didn’t want me here.’

Flick withdraws when Stacey reaches for her. ‘I want to be with you, baby,’ Stacey says. ‘But I’d never willingly bring you into this world.’ She shakes her head slowly and swallows hard. ‘No way.’

Flick turns to me. ‘Did you know?’

‘I didn’t know anything,’ I lie. Looking at Stacey, I ask, ‘Does Max know? That Jimmy has orchestrated this whole thing?’

Stacey nods. ‘Max isn’t dumb, Cassidy.’

I wince. ‘He’s just doing as he’s told then? He doesn’t actually. . .’ My voice breaks. ‘Like me?’

‘Of course he does. None of this was in play until Max had hit that cop, dragged you out of the waterpark, and drove you home. That’s so uncharacteristic of him. He’s a lot more careful than that. One of Jimmy’s men saw and well, Jimmy rubbed his hands together. You were invited to dance at the wedding after that, right?’

‘Yes,’ I whisper. ‘I got the call the day after. But he approached me days before that.’

‘Yes. He likes ballet. He likes you; this is all true. But he wouldn’t have invited you here if it wasn’t for Max.’

Flick hugs my shoulder. ‘How do you know all this?’

‘Jimmy told me. Very casually. He said he thinks you’d make a beautiful couple and he wants to see Max happy. He asked me to invite Flick so that you’d feel comfortable.’

I breathe out steadily. ‘That all sounds kinda nice, though.’

‘Yeah. But I know what that really means. You’re an asset. Leverage. This is what they do. It’s the long game. It doesn’t look that bad at first, which is how you miss it. It’s a favour. It’s a kindness. It’s a sponsorship. But then they have claws in every part of your life and one day, you sit up and you wonder how you’d gotten in so deep. . .’ Stacey’s voice stammers and her eyes drop to the ground. After several long moments of thick, tangible silence, she breathes out and looks up at us again. ‘Now you know. Keep your mouths shut. Behave. Do not tell anyone what I’ve just said unless you want me to go missing.’

I tilt my head and bounce my gaze around nervously. ‘That’s a bit of an exaggeration. . .’

Stacey’s lips tighten. ‘People go missing in the District all the time, Cassidy. It has the highest missing persons rate in the country.’

‘Yeah, but -‘

‘But what? You want to be Max’s right-hand girl? Then you should know. My advice is to remember what they are capable of.’

I cuddle myself and Flick squeezes my shoulder tighter. ‘The boys are good guys though,’ I state.

‘I love them more than life,’ Stacey admits. ‘They are my family, but Max has never allowed anyone to get close before and he definitely doesn’t fetch drinks like a Labrador.’

‘You think they’re good guys though, right?’ I repeat.

She sighs. ‘I love them. But no. I wouldn’t use the word good.’

Heat builds in my head. ‘You know nothing about Max!’

She feeds a tremoring hand through her hair before leaning in until I can feel her breath on my cheek. ‘I’ve seen your boyfriend stomp on a guy’s head. I’ve seen Bronson smash a glass on the bar and then shove it into someone’s neck. Xander’s climbed through my window, covered in blood, and has cried in my arms more times than I can count. I’ve seen Butch kill. . . I’ve seen a lot. And that’s just surface stuff.’

Every fibre in my being wants to defend Max and his brothers, but there is a part of me that’s known this for a while. When Max had hit Luke and seen no repercussions, I’d known then that he. . . I shake my head.

‘Max is a good person.’

Stacey doesn’t respond, but her eyes say it all. Turning, she continues towards the church where we find a seat at the back on the groom’s side. Butch is already in the front row with Victoria, who is peering around with a tight smile.

Nestled against the flower garlands that run the entire length of our pew, I stare at my pink nails, trying to process everything Stacey had said.

At first, I consider grabbing Flick and leaving, refusing to be used against Max, but then I realise we can’t. Max would want to know why I’d left and then Stacey might get into some kind of trouble.

Confusion and uneasiness crash together inside me. I’m not sure how I feel about Jimmy now, and Stacey has seen Max stomp on someone’s head. . . No. I can’t even picture that. It’s too unfathomable to visualise.

I’m yearning for Max to hold me and tell me it’ll be fine. That this doesn’t change anything. That he’s a good guy who happens to have done some bad things. My stomach rolls. The moment I’d accepted that gun, I’d accepted his lifestyle. The Ballerina and The Gangster. What a pair we make.

My breath catches when Max passes our pew with the other groomsmen. His eyes bounce over me with hardly a second of recognition. I’m both glad and disappointed. Glad he can’t see the confusion in my eyes. Disappointed he didn’t reassure me with his. The groomsmen head straight down the red carpeted aisle, moving towards the front of the church. Along the way, they stop to kiss numerous people on the cheek and share a few words with them in what I can only presume is Italian.

Oh my God. I didn’t even know Max spoke Italian.

The boys don’t look Italian. . . Maybe Butch, but only slightly.

They stand at the front and a conveyor belt of guests come up after them, all requesting kisses and sharing words. Max grins through all of it, his single dimple on show for everyone to fall in love with. I roll my eyes at all the girls touching his arm and leaning in far closer than they need to.

But he seems relaxed. He’s wearing a suit jacket now and I can’t help but wonder if the harness is underneath or if he’s taken it off for the ceremony.

Would they bring guns into a church?

Seats are filling up fast. Beside me, Stacey is approached by older Italian men who kiss her and request a dance at the reception. She’s popular with the Family.

As the organ begins to play, we all swivel around to watch the first bridesmaid walk down the aisle. The rest enter in timely procession, like models on the runway, all looking beautiful and classy. When Aurora finally makes her entrance in a full-length 1950’s style wedding dress, everyone gasps. We turn to watch her walk down the aisle. Clay’s face lights up like it’s Christmas and New Years and his birthday all rolled into one. Warmth builds in my belly and I turn my gaze to Max. . .

The ceremony switches back and forth between Italian and English. There is a lot of God speak and a lot of traditional readings, so I suppose Toni was right in saying they’re Catholic.

As the ceremony comes to an end and the bridal party leaves, I turn to Flick. ‘They’re the hottest bridal party I’ve ever seen.’

Flick sighs. ‘They’re breeding a supreme race.’

I glance down at a chip in my nail polish. ‘I don’t fit in.’

‘Cassidy, get real. You’re more beautiful than any of those girls.’

I look up and briefly catch Max’s gaze as he passes by.

Then he’s gone, having followed Clay and Aurora.

Stacey, Flick, and I are some of the last guests to leave the church. The reception is within walking distance. As we approach the three massive marquees, we are herded towards an opening in the fence-line. My mouth drops open when I see the metal detectors at the entrance.

I glance at Flick and mouth, ‘Oh my God.’

Flick’s face is tight with concern.

Once we are inside, I feel like Alice in Wonderland. There are fire twirlers, a live band, several grazing stations, a cigar bar, and people playing croquet.

Stacey crosses to the bar. ‘I need a drink ASAP.’

While she strides away, I scan the crowd for the boys, but my eyes shift from one group to another to no avail. I approach Stacey and Flick as they order. Pressing my back to the bar, I look around for Max and his brothers.

Giving up, I sigh and turn to face a young Balinese girl. ‘Can I please have a mimosa?’

The server smiles. ‘We are serving Louis Roederer, miss.’

‘Coolios. Can you please put some OJ in there, terima kasih,‘ I say with little shame.

‘That is basically a crime,’ a masculine voice says from behind me.

‘Salvatore!’ Stacey hugs a handsome man who looks a lot like the male version of Aurora. ‘I’m so happy to see you. I need to get drunk.’

‘Music to my ears,’ he says, feeding his hands through his slick black hair. ‘My cousin is on a rampage because they don’t have the salmon puffs.’

Stacey gasps in mock horror. ‘Not the salmon puffs!’

He eyes me, his grin lopsided. ‘Ballerina girl.’

‘Don’t talk to her,’ Stacey says. ‘Max will have a heart attack.’

‘Excuse me?’ I falter.

His eyes widen and he beams. ‘Are you Max’s?’

Flick nearly coughs up her drink. ‘No one owns her.’

I hesitate. ‘Um. . .’

‘I’ve known Max Butcher my whole life and have never known him to claim territory,’ he states smugly.

Stacey looks at Salvatore. ‘Trust me. He has.’

I blink at them. ‘I’m standing right here.’

Stacey puts her hand on Salvatore’s shoulder. ‘Salvatore and Max don’t really get along.’

Salvatore scans my body and grins as if I were a new toy. ‘Well, I love ruffling Max’s feathers. So, ballerina girl -‘

I shudder under his gaze. ‘Um, it’s Cassidy.’

‘Where did my uncle find you? You’re amazing.’ He ogles me. ‘Nubile. Flexible. I’d gone from six-to-midnight instantly watching you perform. Was it The Doll House? It was at The Doll House, right?’

‘Are you fucking kidding me?’ Flick snaps.

My mouth drops open. I wish I didn’t know that The Doll House is a strip club in the District, but between Toni and Konnor, the place has been mentioned more than once.

‘Salvatore!’ Stacey yells. ‘How much have you had to drink already?’

He shrugs. ‘It’s a compliment. No seriously, I’m sorry. You were wonderful. And to get Max Butcher to claim turf’ – he gazes at my thighs and I’m sure that if his eyes could crawl up my dress they would be– ‘you must have something very special up your dres-‘

‘Are you finished?’ My eyes narrow on him. ‘I’m not a stripper. I’m a professional ballerina. And what’s up my dress would bite you!’ Snatching my expensive and criminal mimosa, I head off towards the croquet lawn. Before I’m out of earshot, I hear Flick and Stacey crack up. Despite my annoyance with Salvatore, that makes me smile. Maybe that exchange will loosen them up enough that they can enjoy the wedding.

For a few moments, I just watch the game being played. It looks like fun. Like hockey and golf combined.

‘Do you want to play?’ a young red-headed girl asks me as I watch from the sideline.

I beam. ‘So many yeses!’ She hands me a mallet and explains the instructions. It takes me a while, but eventually I’m annihilating the other contenders. By the time I finish playing, the sun has dropped below the horizon.

After wandering around the marquees for a while, I finally see my name on a table.

Soon after I sit down, Flick comes up beside me. ‘Have you seen Max?’

‘Nope, but I’m having fun. I’ve just won at croquet.’

She sits down next to me. ‘You’re just like Dad. You’re good at everything you try. It’s really unfair.’

The tables slowly fill. Despite the hour, beads of sweat form on my chest and neck, and I mentally thank Aurora for organising overhead fans in the marquees.

As the waiters begin to serve the evening meal, I glance up at the bridal table and finally get my first glimpse of Max since the ceremony. The sight of him steals my breath away.

He’s taken off his jacket and opened the first few buttons of his shirt. His hair has been messed with as if he’s run a hand through it a couple of times. Smiling, he turns to talk to a man standing beside him. Though Max is trying to appear casual and carefree, it doesn’t hide what he is inside. It doesn’t hide his burdens. They are in his eyes, in his gestures. I can see them.

I stare at him like a lovesick puppy throughout the entire four course meal, watching as he’s attacked by women eager for conversation and kisses. A knot in my belly twists every time anyone gets his attention while I sit here.

As I’m finishing off Stacey’s chocolate fondant, Butch stands up to make a speech.

‘Having googled a bit about wedding speeches, I’ve learnt that Jimmy is coping out.’ Everyone laughs as Butch turns to look at Jimmy, an exaggerated mien of expectancy on his face. ‘Father of bride speech?’ he goads as Jimmy laughs deep from his belly. ‘Alright, I’ll do it then. Well firstly, Aurora, sweetheart, welcome to the family. You’re a Butcher now.’

Butch relays a few stories about Clay and Aurora sneaking around, but they’re all so innocent that if I didn’t know any better, I would have presumed they were both from regular upper-class Catholic families.

After Butch finishes his second story, Bronson jumps up and pats his dad on the back. ‘Okay. Sit down, old man.’ Smiling, Butch takes a seat as his son turns to face the groom. ‘So. . . handsome, enigmatic, infectiously fun.’ He pauses, his eyes flicking to the crowd. ‘Yeah, that’s enough about me.’

After more laughter dies down, Bronson continues, ‘These things usually start with, ‘When I first met Clay. . . But oh wait, that doesn’t work too well because I was shitting myself when I first met Clay. So, just like my old man, I googled this and Google says the best man-‘ He pauses and grins. His silence is enough to make everyone laugh again. ‘Yep. So as the best man, I need a killer opening line. . .Well, I think I nailed that. Then I need to thank the other speakers. . . Cheers, Dad. Jimmy, where ya been mate? Huh?’ Bronson says something in Italian. Everyone laughs; Jimmy chuckles and waves his hand. ‘I also need to congratulate the couple. Clay. Aurora. Congratulations! I need to compliment the bride. Well, Aurora you look hot. I need to make a joke about the groom, but do I really need to though? . . . Just look at that head. And finally I need to propose a toast. . . To lots of sex.’ He raises his glass and people cheer. Victoria barely looks up from her wine. ‘On a more serious note though, Clay, you will leave today with someone to share your life with, a strong, elegant, and insanely beautiful women. Aurora, you will be leaving with a great dress and some very overpriced flowers.’

The speeches have ended and the bridal party has scattered around the reception. While licking the sweet taste of port off my lips, I remember Max’s tongue and mouth tasting like this last night. I wish I could go to him. Wish it was allowed. But the gender segregation in this world is firmly archaic. Peering across the shadowed lawn and into the cigar tent, I catch a glimpse of him.

Max, Bronson, Butch, Jimmy, Xander, and maybe twenty other men are laughing and conversing. There is no doubting the power of those men. It sits heavily in the air around them, creating a presence that surpasses their physical forms. They move with purpose. They talk measuredly. And although they seem to have affection for one another, there is an aura of tension settled between them.

I watch Max converse with another man. He gestures more exaggeratedly than usual, the stereotypical Sicilian mannerisms appearing once more. He mirrors his companion well. I’m sure that comes in handy in his line of work.

I drain another glass of port and decide to dance my neglect away.

I’m not sure how much time passes by, but I dance with Flick and Stacey and a lot of other girls and guys. The band is really good. The orchestra last night had been from Sydney, so, of course, Aurora probably had this band fly here from halfway across the world.

As I’m dancing to an upbeat song, sweat beading on my skin, a strong hand catches my elbow. ‘Do I know you?’ the man asks.

I spin to a stop and blink up at an older gentleman with dark-brown eyes and a wide, chiselled jaw. ‘No. . . I don’t think so.’

The air around us is charged.

‘You’re the ballerina,’ he says, his voice smooth and elegant and with a wisp of an Italian accent. ‘You were simply stunning.’

I shuffle my feet uncomfortably. ‘Thank you. I’m Jimmy’s ballerina.’ I have no idea why I’ve just said that, but there is something about this man that makes me uneasy. Something that makes me feel as if I need the weight of Jimmy’s name over mine.

‘Cassidy, isn’t it?’

I swallow. ‘Yes.’

He watches my throat roll. ‘Cassidy what?’

My eyes drop to the hand still gripping my elbow. ‘Slater,’ I whisper.

His fingers release my arm. ‘Nice to meet you. I’m Dustin Nerrock.’

I fix my jaw. My hands ball into fists, shaking violently on either side of my hips. I have not even thought of his name since that night with my dad and Konnor and yet, as soon as I hear it, it pierces my ears.

‘May I have this dance?’ he asks.

My face twitches in an attempt to stay calm. ‘I’m not feeling well.’

Without any further explanation, I turn and run off the dance floor, not stopping until I’m across the grass and in the forest. My heart hammers in my chest as tears well up in my eyes. I get to a tree and fumble around in my bag, trying to find my phone to call Konnor. My fingers won’t work.

That man. . .

Sold my brother.

Paid to have him kidnapped.

Finally managing to find my phone, I band it with my fingers and hold it to my chest. Through the trees I can see the marquee lights and hear the music, laughter, and chatter. It hadn’t occurred to me that I might see him here.

It doesn’t seem like my dad really knows what had happened all those years ago – before I was even born – or had he been hiding something from us that night when Konnor had confronted him? There is no doubt he’d been shaken up by the conversation.

If he’s here, then. . . no. Does Max know what had happened? He’d have been a child himself when Konnor had been taken. Is he keeping something from me? I know he doesn’t like Konnor, but surely, he wouldn’t be able to hide such a secret from me. I would have seen it in his eyes. Betrayal lightly veiled.

God, I just need to talk to him.

‘Are you okay?’ I hear a voice ask. ‘You’re trembling. I’ll go get someone. Who are you with?’ As a young blond man slowly approaches, I rub my face, wiping the tears away.

‘I’m fine. I’m fine.’

He steps to my side, but I stare ahead into the darkness. ‘You’re the ballerina. I’ll go get Jimmy for you, if you want?’

I reach for him. ‘No!’

‘Okay.’ He stops mid-step and looks at me, probably thinking I’ve lost my mind. That I’ve had too much to drink or am suffering a nervous breakdown. And if I’m being honest, there is probably some truth in such thoughts.

He tilts his head. ‘Do you want me to leave you alone?’

‘No,’ I whisper.

After eyeing me for a few minutes, he leans his shoulder on the tree beside me. ‘Maybe we start with this. Hi, I’m Erik.’

‘I’m Cassidy.’

I glance at him and catch my first good full look of his face as the light from the lanterns bounce around the spaces between the trees. I try not to stare, instead focusing over his shoulder, but the scars that are etched into his cheek and jaw are hard to ignore. He might have been attractive once, but now he’s uncomfortable to look at.

He grins. ‘Something spook you?’

A twig snaps and I whirl around to see Max striding quickly towards me. I run at him and jump into his arms, relief washing over me. He stills and envelops me, rocking me slightly from side to side. His chest heaves against mine.

‘Leave before I finish Konnor’s work!’ Max barks over my shoulder, and the sound of my brother’s name ignites my blood. My arms tighten around him as he holds my weight with one thick, strong arm. The other is tight by his side, hand clenched and pumping.

Erik’s voice is snide. ‘I wasn’t gonna touch her.’

‘Leave!’ he barks over my shoulder.

I lean back in his arms, stare into his eyes, and I see it – betrayal lightly veiled. ‘What do you know?’

Max doesn’t shy away from my accusing stare. Instead he just says, ‘I shouldn’t have let them bring you here.’