Page 3 of Body of Trust

“Sorry, ladies. Give me a minute.” Jesse’s attention is drawn to the back of the room, where Uncle Frankie is holding up a hand, asking for more drinks for him and the men he’s with. Jesse knows to drop everything and take care of him.

Uncle Frankie is demanding in that respect. He commands a sort of loyalty from everyone around him, including my father, who is standing beside him. The two aren’t brothers but are so close that they consider each other family, and therefore, they have bestowed titles of familial distinction onto the other. Come to think of it, as I look around the room, I can count at least ten uncles here who aren’t related to me by blood.

Uncle Frankie and my father are deep in conversation. They’re close talkers, and they use their hands in a dramatic fashion, even when what they’re discussing is as simple as the weather. With their finely threaded suits and combed-back hair, they look like they came right out of the movie Goodfellas. An outsider would say they’re the epitome of Italian Mafioso, picturing airport heists, cocaine distribution, and Joe Pesci killing another man for mentioning he once shined shoes as a kid.

But that’s only in the movies. While money does slide under the table for personal favors, it’s nothing like the mob of the past. What we have here is one big Italian family. A little unconventional, but they’re the only family I’ve ever known.

“All right, I’m out of here.” Sienna swallows the rest of her drink.

“Where are you going?” I ask, surprised.

“I have a date. Call me after dinner, and we’ll hook up.” She lifts her clutch off the bar and then gives me two air kisses, one on each cheek. “Later, girl. Oh, and don’t tell my dad I have a date. Tell him I’m having cake at a friend’s house for her birthday. If he asks who, just say Jessica. I know, like, seven Jessicas.” She puts her glass down and then waves to Jesse, who has reappeared, as she bounces out of the restaurant.

Like a girl in the aftermath of a tornado, I have to collect myself.

“She’s a whirlwind, huh?” Jesse asks as he makes drinks.

“The Tasmanian devil is more like it,” I say with a laugh.

“She’ll be hard to keep up with at the club tonight.” He smirks, his gaze roaming quickly around the room.

“Oh, no, I won’t be going to any club. The idea of being in a sweat box with a few hundred people who are too high to know where they are is my idea of hell.”

His smirk deepens. “Good to know. I was worried that cringe you made was at the thought of me actually joining you.”

“I would have loved it if you came,” I say way too easily and am mortified. “Not love. I would have just had more fun if you came. But not too much because I hate clubs.”

“That’s because you haven’t been to a club with the right person.”

He turns and serves a couple on the other side of the square-shaped bar, chatting with them for a minute.

I take a moment to check myself. Mostly my nervousness, which is completely out of character. I’m not the nervous type. And I definitely don’t fumble over my words. It’s his eyes. They’re like turquoise gems of hypnosis.

“There’s my pride and joy!” a deep baritone bellows. My father, Raphael Sorrentino, looks handsome in his suit as he walks toward me. The man might work in sanitation, but he’s dressed to the nines every day.

I hop off the stool and give him a kiss hello. “Hi, Daddy. Mom and Gia are on their way. Gia’s dance class ran long.”

“Maronna mia, how can those two be late for everything and you’re always here on time?”

“Must take after my old man.”

He places a hand on my upper back and beams proudly. “That’s my girl. Jesse!” My father gets the bartender’s attention. “Did you know my Amelia is now a senior auditor at DeLuca & Associates?”

“Just a regular auditor, up from my junior position. There’s no senior in the title,” I clarify to Jesse. “Please don’t make a fuss,” I beg my father.

He waves his arm around the room. “Drinks for everyone!”

“Dad, it’s okay—”

“Can’t a man celebrate his oldest daughter’s success?” He pinches his fingers on both hands together and holds them up as he explains, “I didn’t go to college like you. I didn’t even graduate high school, so forgive me if I’m basking in the excitement of my daughter doing so well in life.” He calls over a few of my uncles—Vic, Joey, and Enzo. “Grab a glass. Except for you, Joey, you cheap bastard.” He laughs, and everyone joins in, including Uncle Joey, who grabs a glass anyway.

“To Amelia. Smarter than her old man. More beautiful than her mother—though no one here had better tell Joanne I said so.” More laughs ensue, and then my father gets serious. “This one here is going to do great things for the Sorrentino name. I couldn’t be prouder. Salute!”

“Salute!” The room erupts in cheers, and everyone drinks, including me.

My father tugs me further into his side, and I’m given kisses by my uncles.

When the fanfare has subsided, I slither back onto my stool.