Acrobat (22 page)

He gestured us both forward, and before I really understood where we were going, he started steering us toward Tony Strada where he stood across the room, talking to the priest.

“Dreo! Come!”

We had to detour because Joseph Romelli, Vincent Romelli’s son, was calling him. He thought, Dreo had told us, that he was going to be the one taking over things now that his father had passed. But what was really going to happen was that the power was moving to Vincent Romelli’s strong second-in-command, Tony Strada.

“Joey.” Dreo smiled even though there was a sharp edge to his voice. “This is Dr. Nathan Qells and my nephew, Michael.”

“I told you I didn’t want you here,” he practically snarled at Dreo. “How dare you show your—”

“I have every right to be here,” Dreo snapped back. “Don’t make a scene.”

The man looked at me and watched Dreo take my hand in his and pull Michael close to him. His eyes narrowed angrily.

“I don’t need to have this shit thrown up in my face—it wasn’t enough that you told my father?” His voice was cold and hard. “It wasn’t enough that you made him a party to how sick and depraved and—”

“I just wanted to come and pay my respects to your father,” Dreo said sharply. “And give my condolences to your mother and sisters.”

“If you wanted to show him respect, you would have never said a goddamn word about being a filthy faggot!” Joseph said under his breath.

Sal was suddenly on my right, standing still but close, his shoulder brushing mine. Joseph looked at him, clearly stunned by the obvious show of solidarity.

“You don’t care?” Joseph asked. “You don’t give a fuck what he is?”

He shook his head.

“It’s a sin,” Joseph hissed.

“It’s not,” Dreo told Joseph, pulling the other man’s focus back from Sal. “You’re just too ignorant to understand.”

“This man,” he asked Dreo, tipping his head to me, “is what to you?”

“
Lui è il mio fidanzato
,” he told him softly, the whisper husky.

Joseph blanched, as did one of the men with him. The other looked stunned but didn’t even breathe.

I had a moment to wonder what
fidanzato
was before Sal leaned close and said “boyfriend” in my ear. There was no way not to clutch Dreo’s hand as I stared at his profile.

Two years with Duncan Stiel and I was just some guy he hung out with. One day with Dreo Fiore and I was being acknowledged as the one he slept with, spent time with, and wanted at his side. It was overwhelming.

And there were consequences if Duncan came out of the closet, but those didn’t include death. I wasn’t stupid; I knew what other men thought of homosexuality in Dreo’s world. That he would still, with the balance of real-life penalties hanging over his head, tell the truth about me, about who I was to him, was staggering. The honesty undid me.

“I—” Joseph gasped, his eyes back and forth between my lover and me, hard when they finally flicked to Dreo’s face. “I can’t stand to look at you! Better that you were dead then to bring this shame on me and my family or on your own.”

Dreo took a breath. “Your own father let us out. Tony agreed as well. I just wanted to be up-front and have you meet the most important people in my life.”

“Tony’s not fuckin’ in charge, Fiore, I am!”

“Lower your voice” came the fierce whisper.

We all turned as Tony Strada stepped into the circle, two men behind him, both tall and huge and silent.

“What’s going on?”

Joseph rounded on him. “You’ve got no right to let Fiore or Polo out of—”

“The fuck I don’t,” he told Joseph, reaching out and putting his hand on the younger man’s shoulder. “Here’s the thing: you work for me, not the other way around.”

“You’re out of your fuckin’ mind!”

“Lower,” Tony began icily, squeezing tighter on the shoulder, “your fuckin’ voice.”

It was tense, and I was surprised that the guys I thought were Joseph’s muscle did nothing.

“I know it, my men know it, and your men know it. Wrap your brain around the situation, and if you need more help, ask your mother.”

“You leave my—”

“We talked,” he told him softly, moving closer, his voice dropping lower. “She and I. She understands what Frazzi’s people told her. Everyone knows what’s goin’ on except you,
figliolo
.”

“I am not your son,” he snarled at Tony. “I—”

Tony gripped the back of the younger man’s neck hard. “You work for me or you can be out. But I made the peace with Frazzi; I’m the broker of the new understanding between the families. Don’t fuck with me, and don’t fuck with him,” he finished, tipping his head at the two men standing behind Joseph. “Take him to his mother and then come back. I have something for you both to do.”

“Yes, Mr. Strada,” the first man said, and the other nodded.

Joseph was humiliated and furious, and the only thing I could think of that was good in the situation was that his entire focus had moved from Dreo to Tony.

As Joseph was walked away, Tony stepped close to us, reaching out to put a hand on Michael’s cheek. “You look like your mother,
ragazzo
.” He smiled.

“Thank you, sir.” Michael sighed.

Tony then turned to me. “Let the beard grow back, Professor; this ain’t you.”

I smiled because he was either perceptive or bossy, and I wasn’t sure which. I really didn’t even know why I had shaved it that morning.

He faced Dreo then. “You could stay. This”—and he shrugged—“means nothing to me.”

“But your life is not what I want or what Sal wants,” Dreo said, his voice confident, speaking for both himself and his friend. “I started because I needed to take care of Michael, and Sal introduced me to Mr. Romelli. But after the old man’s death—come on, no one wants bodyguards that let a man die.”

Tony grabbed Dreo’s face. “You saved me, you saved Sal, and you saved that piece of shit that just walked away from us. If you weren’t there, Dreo, we’d all be dead.”

Michael caught his breath.

“You were amazing, Andreo Fiore.”

Dreo nodded and eased the older man’s hands from his face. “I just wanted to get you all out of there, that’s all. And now I just want out of all of this.”

He nodded and slapped Dreo’s face gently, his smile wide. “People won’t understand.”

“
Non me ne frega un cazzo
,” Dreo told him.

The older man chuckled. “Oh, I know you don’t give a fuck; you don’t have to tell me.”

Dreo shrugged and smiled.

“Well, I did my part and let everyone know you and Sal are out. You should have no trouble, but come see me if you do.”

“
Grazie molto
,” Sal told him.

“
Prego
,” he exhaled. “And if either of you ever change your mind and want to come back, my door is always open.”

Dreo reached for the man’s hand, lifted it to his lips, and kissed the back of it. “
Mille grazie
,” he murmured.

Tony smiled and patted Dreo’s face before he turned, the two men trailing after him, and walked away.

“Fuck,” Sal grunted. “Can it really be this easy?”

Dreo’s smile was huge as he draped one arm around me and another around Michael. “I know, right? I feel bad being so happy at a funeral.”

Sal shook his head and was about to turn when Joseph was suddenly back in front of us.

“Listen,” he barked at Dreo, finger pointing at him. “Once everyone knows that you’re a goddamn faggot,
finocchio
, you’ll be lucky to—”

“
Taci
!”

We all turned to Sal, who had yelled.

“
Ma sta zitto che è meglio
!” Sal continued, moving fast, walking behind Michael and covering his ears. “You don’t talk to him anymore, you worthless piece of shit!”

“You—”

“Fuck off,” he snarled at Joseph. “If you don’t want your mother to know you screw whores along with your wife, shut up and walk the fuck away. Just let us go to the cemetery and pay our respects, visit your mother at her house, and then we’ll leave and you never have to see us again.”

“I—”

“Whatever you think of him, or me, we protected your old man until he made that impossible for us. And the only reason you’re not dead is that when the shooting started and you froze like a child, Dreo got your ass out of the club and never told anyone you were even fuckin’ there.”

Joseph looked back and forth between the two men as Sal moved his hands, allowing Michael to hear again.

“Now.” Sal took a breath. “Tony’s already telling people we’re out. You do the same. Monday you go to work and we’ll go to ours.
Sì
?”

After a minute, Joseph nodded.

“
Buono
?”

“
Sì, buono
.”

He turned then and walked away, and then there was just the four of us again as Sal started smiling.

“Fuck, I wanna go home.” Dreo sighed deeply.

“Me too,” Sal agreed, smiling. “And start living away from all this bullshit.”

“Amen,” Dreo said, lifting my hand he was holding to his lips and kissing my knuckles.

“Who knew that telling the truth actually would make me free?”

“And not dead.” Sal snickered. “Both of us.” He smacked me in the arm. “He’s gay, I’m the friend of the gay man, of the
finocchio
.” He squinted at Dreo. “Who even uses that word anymore?”

He shrugged. “Joey, apparently.”

Sal cackled. “What a fuck. Who gives a damn what a man does in his bed? It only matters what the man does in the world, for the people he loves.”

Dreo nodded. “
Sì
.”

“
Lascialo perdere
,” he told him.

“I won’t. I don’t give a shit what he thinks of me. I cared for his father, just like you, but the son is a piece of shit, and if he’s not careful and keeps running his mouth about Tony and not listening to him….”

“
Sì
.” Sal agreed to the unspoken prophecy.

“We may still have some trouble,” Dreo told him.

Sal nodded. “We will. We just have to ride it out.”

“Dreo?” I asked.

His smile was warm. “Being gay in our business is more than frowned upon.”

“You could get hurt,” I said.

“Yeah, but it helps that you came by that day to see me and warn me about the guy on your fire escape. It helps that Tony knows you, that his niece knows you, and that she’s gay as well. Lots of that is good, but there are still those who will care about the gay part. My father.” He shrugged. “He will not understand.”

My heart hurt for him.

He leaned in, gently pressing his forehead to mine. “Michael and I will have to spend the holidays with you, Nate; we will have nowhere else to go.”

I leaned into him, arms around his neck, squeezing tight. “Wherever I am, you’re welcome. I want you both with me.”

His face was pressed to the side of my neck, and his arms around me were like iron bands as he held me.

“My father is different,” I heard Sal say as I held the man who was becoming more and more important to me with every passing minute that I spent with him. “Salvatore Polo Sr. believes that once you’re family, that never changes.”

“Meaning what?” Michael asked as Dreo and I parted.

“You’re all welcome at my house,” he told us. “My parents don’t give a crap, and when I told them I was out because you were—” Sal chuckled. “—my mother said you were always her favorite.”

“She’s such a liar.” Dreo laughed softly, taking my hand, unable, it seemed, to keep from touching me.

“You got her son out of a job she hated,” Sal told him. “You are golden in my house, Dreo Fiore.”

And Dreo liked hearing that if the smile was any indication.

Normally, the trip from downtown Chicago out to Hillside would have taken a half an hour or less, depending on traffic, but the procession of cars was long, and so the trip dragged into an hour. Queen of Heaven cemetery was huge, with a mausoleum as well, and in the cold and damp, the wind whipping around and the dark-gray overcast sky, it was a very fitting day for a burial. I had been to other Italian funerals in my life, and normally, they were open casket for viewing and people kissed the deceased on the forehead. But Sal had told me there was not much left of Vincent Romelli to bury, let alone view.

Michael and I finally parked and got out, and as we were walking, I heard my name called. I saw Alla Strada, then, with her partner Jennifer St. James, and diverted toward them. Jen had a big hug and kiss for me and immediately asked if I had seen Alla smoking lately.

“Yes, ma’am,” I said, and Alla smacked my arm, after which Jen smacked her and made her promise to stop cold turkey… again.

She rolled her eyes but agreed.

“He’s a narc,” Michael told both the women. “But you gotta figure that,” he said pointedly to Alla. “He’s a parent, ya know.”

She shrugged like she had forgotten that, put an arm around Michael’s shoulders, and walked with him as Jen and I followed, arm in arm.

The graveside ceremony took longer than the church service. Michael and I were standing, and after a while, he moved so he was beside me instead of between Alla and Jen. When his head clunked down on my shoulder, I understood that however hard he was trying to hold up, this was slowly killing him. I put an arm around him and held him tight.

Dreo was in the first standing row behind the family who were all seated, and when we had walked up, I saw Mrs. Romelli holding onto his hand for dear life. No matter what Joseph felt now, it was obvious that both Dreo and Sal had been very close to his father and mother.

People again went up and spoke, a string quartet played, and the priest gave the final blessing before he concluded. Everyone then followed Mrs. Romelli and her daughters and her son as they placed roses on the casket. I had never seen so many enormous wreaths, each more stunning than the last. Everyone filed passed the Romellis, and since I didn’t think it was a good idea for me and Michael, I stayed in the back and didn’t move.

“What are you doing?” Alla asked me when she saw we weren’t following her and Jen.

“I don’t want to cause anyone any—”

“Oh for crissakes, Nate,” she sniped, grabbing my arm and pulling me forward.

The daughters were all kind and shook my hand and Michael’s, but when we reached Joseph, he wouldn’t touch either of us.