very fit, with a flat belly, and the confident way he headed toward the Cable Cross machine made clear he knew his way around a gym.
But then his eyes landed on Tea's mother and she saw his feet trip up. It took him a moment to haul his tongue back in and untangle his Adidas.
Tea smiled and lowered her voice. "Don't look now, Mom, but you just made a new conquest."
Bianca waited a beat, then took a quick glance over her shoulder. She frowned, creating two shallow grooves in the olive skin between her arching brows. Her mother had yet to go under the Botox needle, though she never said never. "That must be the man who checked in late last night," she said. "One of our indefinite stays."
Which could mean anything from another refugee of "exhaustion" to a patient in need of several pre-rhinoplasty consultations.
"He's attractive, Mom." Despite the nose that dominated his features.
Her mother gave an indifferent shrug. "I'm not looking for a man."
Me neither. Tea envisioned her future like her mother's: single, celibate, successful. Because what man without his own rap sheet would want to commit to a woman with such strong criminal ties? And what was wrong with a life without sex anyway? From the looks of things, Eve probably took care of the family's quota all on her own, though Joey undoubtedly hooked up with one of her legion of guy-pals whenever she felt the urge.
"Your sisters stopped by my office yesterday," her mother said.
Maybe mind reading ran in the family.
"Oh?" Tea stepped onto the discs for her next set of squats. Her sisters wouldn't have brought up any Caruso business with their mother. When Bianca had reclaimed her maiden name, she'd cut her ties with Cosimo and company. Everyone had always respected her mother's decision on that.
Tea grimaced at her reflection as her thigh muscles screamed like she wanted to. Why didn't people respect her decision on that?
But she wasn't going to think about it. Her focus now was Johnny and how she was going to get out of tonight's date. Common cold? Cold sore? How about just common old cold feet?
"They told me about your grandfather's impending retirement."
At her mother's quiet words, Tea did the whole wild wobble and wiggle as her world once again went sideways. She stumbled away from the discs and looked over at her mother, surprised. "They told you about Cosimo?"
"And the party. And the promise they made to him about you."
Tea backed up until her shoulder blades hit the cold surface of the mirror. Silver Crewcut, on the other side of the room, was watching her. When he saw she'd noticed, he glanced away, as if he felt a sudden fascination for the golden-flowered hibiscus hedge lining the nearby window.
"I don't want to go to the party, Mom." Tea sounded twelve years old, so she cleared her throat and tried a second time. "I'm not going to the party."
Her mother waved her left hand. She'd once worn an extravagant wedding set, with a three-carat marquis-cut center diamond, fit for the queen who raised Salvatore's three princesses. When the FBI had confiscated all the cash that was found in the house, she'd sold the ring to pay for their tuition at Our Lady of Poverty, the exclusive and expensive school they'd attended. "It's not the party I want to talk to you about."
Tea pressed closer to the glass behind her, telling herself it was its cold that caused the shiver rippling down her back. Her mother wasn't going to bring up the past, was she? She never discussed the Carusos or her marriage, and Tea figured it was because it was impossible to explain how she'd ended up with a man who was, at best, a philandering criminal.
Tea already knew that love defied explanation.
"We don't need to talk about anything," she said quickly
"You won't remember how it was before," her mother went on despite Tea's protest. "How it was sixteen years ago."
"I remember."
Her mother briefly closed her eyes. "Then I wish you didn't."
Tea remembered everything about that time. Long days and nights without word from her father. Visits from her father's "friends," who wanted to know where Sal might have kept his ledger - the "Loanshark book" - that was actually a handwritten record of all his business activities. Then there were the government-issue cars with the unusual antennas parked near the house twenty-four hours a day. The men sitting inside them, drinking coffee or eating sandwiches, their eyes