The Spia Family Presses On - By Mary Leo Page 0,71

your family. This I can promise.”

My mom let out a small groan.

Uncle Ray, Uncle Benny, Uncle Federico and Jimmy stood, a couple of their chairs falling to the floor behind them. Giuseppe spread his legs apart, and clasped his hands in front of his body.

The mobster stance.

Two shady looking associates, both dressed in fitted business suites, stood on either side of him. Young buffed Turks. All three of them poised for action.

Lisa grabbed my hand. I shut my eyes knowing this could get really ugly. I waited. She waited. We all waited. I could hear their heavy breathing, like bulls trapped in a ring apprising the matador, getting ready to charge.

Just as the tension was about to ignite, Maryann began singing a Louie Prima tune, That Old Black Magic, accompanying herself on her accordion.

I was never so grateful for Maryann and her accordion as I was at that very moment. And just like that, the men smiled at each other, albeit somewhat tepid smiles, but smiles nonetheless. The young Turks backed off, and I could see the fight leave their bodies.

One good thing we had on our side was that Made Men didn’t like to show their aggression in front of their women. Some kind of unwritten law of the streets, and at the moment I was tremendously appreciative of that unwritten rule.

Within moments the entire group was up on their feet, reciting the daily AA prayer, “God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.”

“Amen,” Uncle Ray said.

Soon the men were patting each other’s backs and looking as if they all loved one another. Uncle Ray and Giuseppe were hunched over whispering to each other, smiling as if everything that Giuseppe had said had already been forgotten.

But I knew better.

Coffee was poured, wine bottles were opened, cookies, cheese, and sliced meats were served. The Spia clan was a model of all that was good, but everyone knew Giuseppe was serious about his threat and I, for one, had that sick scared feeling in the pit of my stomach. Someone here, other than the killer, had the ring, obviously the ring that Giuseppe was sent here to fetch.

What was up with that ring? It hadn’t looked that special to me, at least not special enough that someone would kill for it, and that a family would send one of their own from Italy to fetch it.

Was I missing something here?

Suddenly I was feeling completely inadequate.

Who was I to think I could resolve this murder? Could help keep this family honest? Could keep my mom out of danger? I was kidding myself. These Wise Guys were serious about their vendettas. My own father was probably a victim of one of those vendettas.

My shoulder began to throb, and my knees went weak. A glass of wine would go down so easily, and would help with the sick feeling in the pit of my stomach.

I walked to the end of the table toward the now open bottles of wine telling myself that one glass wouldn’t make me a binge drinker. That I was ready to drink again. That I needed it. That I could handle it. That . . .

“Let’s get out of here,” Lisa said, standing between me and my quest. “Jimmy just left. We should try and catch up with him.”

“Not yet,” I said as I tried to get around her. “I need a glass of wine.”

“No you don’t.”

She placed herself in front of me, cutting my view of the bottles of wine. I wanted to shove her out of the way, tell her that she was intruding in my life, but when I looked at her I could see the concern on her face. Lisa was on my side. She believed I could shake my temptation. That alone was worth giving myself another chance.

If I drank a glass of wine, I would be giving up on Lisa’s friendship, on my mom’s innocence, on finding the killer, but most of all I would be giving up on me.

But the bottles of wine were so close I could reach out and touch them. A glass was waiting to be filled. Almost everyone around me was drinking, enjoying themselves, imbibing in the my forbidden fruit. Why couldn’t I?

“Is it really worth it?” Lisa asked.

“You bet it is,” I said, then tried to reach around her for a glass. She stood her ground. Never moving. Never