Chapter 32

Mafia Kings: Valentino: Chapter 32 The hotel Nic and I had met Don Vicari in was straight out of The Godfather Part II.

Now, sitting outside Don Vicari’s house, I found myself in a scene from the first movie.

Michael Corleone (played by Al Pacino) is hiding out in Sicily. While he’s there, he sees a beautiful girl named Apollonia and gets struck by the thunderbolt. That’s the Sicilian way of saying love at first sight.

He immediately wants her – needs her – and the only way to do that in Sicily back in the 1940s was to get married (unless you wanted her father or brothers to shoot you in the head).

So Michael talks to her father and goes to visit the girl for the first time. While he’s there at the house, he’s surrounded by a couple dozen of her relatives, from great-grandmas to 5-year-old cousins.

That was pretty much what lunch was like.

There was a massive table set out on a back porch with tons of Sicilian food: caponata made with eggplant, risotto with peas and bits of meat in it, bowls full of pasta, and lots of cold cuts and peasant-style brown bread. Plus homemade wine in bottles without labels.

Everything was simple but delicious – and very different from the food I was used to back in Tuscany.

Around the table sat two dozen relatives, mostly women with a lot of little kids.

Servants flitted back and forth, filling glasses and bringing new platters of food.

And in the background stood a bunch of armed foot soldiers.

Don Vicari sat to my right. Across from me sat Isabella. Her great-grandma sat next to her and across from Don Vicari.

The old lady smiled constantly. She didn’t eat much, but she could really put the wine away.

Also, I noticed that Isabella’s servant girl hovered in the background directly behind her, watching with that same emotionless expression I’d seen on her face earlier.

“Those are my older daughters, Abriana and Marcella,” Vicari said, pointing out two women in their late 20s or early 30s. They both looked up and smiled dutifully, then turned back to yelling at their kids. “Everybody else are their in-laws – sisters, cousins, aunts. Their husbands couldn’t be here because they’re busy running my territories down south. After you settle in, you’ll go meet my son Rocco. Start learning your new job. He’ll show you the ropes.”

“My new job?” I asked, surprised.

“What, you think you’re gonna lounge around all day for the rest of your life?” Vicari said contemptuously. “No. You’re gonna work, just like everybody else. Rocco’ll show you the ropes.”

“Great,” I said unenthusiastically. Then I looked up at Isabella. “Well, now that I’ve got a job, I’ll need to have fun when I’m off work. What do you do for fun?”

“Reading, mostly.”

“...reading,” I repeated, not sure if I’d heard correctly –

Because reading sure didn’t sound like fun to me.

Clubbing, skiing, going out with friends – those were fun.

Reading was homework.

Isabella smiled. “I love reading.”

So... everything Don Vicari had said about her being a bookworm really was true.

Great.

“Plus,” she added, “there’s not much else to do around here.”

I glanced over my shoulder.

There were some shaded areas with trees behind me, but beyond that it was rolling hills that went on and on for miles, with nothing but dried-out, brown vegetation.

“...yeah,” I said gloomily, then turned back to my lunch.

“Right now I’m reading My Brilliant Friend by Elena Ferrante,” Isabella said eagerly. “And I love Rupi Kaur.”

“...Roopee... Car?” I asked, not knowing who the fuck she was talking about.

“Yeah – she got very famous on Instagram, then started publishing her poetry.”

“So you found her on Instagram?”

“Oh no,” Isabella said very seriously. “Papa won’t let me have a computer.”

Okay, THAT’S weird.

“What about your phone, though?” I asked. “I mean, that’s where most people use Instagram, anyway.”

“Papa won’t let me have a phone, either.”

I stared at her like she just told me she liked to eat raw goat meat.

Although I had to say, in retrospect, Don Vicari taking my phone seemed a little more understandable now.

“The filth that’s out there these days,” Vicari grumbled. “The internet is filled with it.”

The great-grandmother crossed herself and murmured, “Infamia.”

I stared at them like I’d realized I was eating with a bunch of Martians.

I wanted to say to Vicari, Wait – WHAT do you do for a living, again?

And WHAT was that you said earlier about how many Sicilian girls you fucked before you got married?

But I didn’t want a bullet in the back of my head, so I just kept quiet.

“What do you read?” Isabella asked cheerfully.

“...um... Men’s Fitness, I guess. Sometimes.”

Isabella frowned. “What’s that?”

“A magazine about getting ripped.”

“...ripped?”

“You know. Bigger muscles.”

“Oh.” She looked puzzled. “But what books do you read?”

I chuckled. “I haven’t read a book since I left school.”

Isabella looked momentarily horrified – then she brightened. “Oh – so you finished university.”

“No, I didn’t go.”

Her eyes widened. “How old are you?”

“Twenty-two.”

“So you haven’t read a book in – four years?”

“...uh... yeah.”

“...I see,” she murmured.

“No need to read books if you’re out in the real world,” Vicari said through a mouthful of food.

Isabella looked down at her lap.

I immediately wanted to come to her defense –

But it was kind of hard to do when I hadn’t read a single book since high school.

We mostly ate in silence after that.