Indebted to the Mafia King
Homesick

Eleni

A couple days later, I close one of my assigned readings and check the time. Too early for lunch. Too late to start something new. I glance at my phone, sitting on the couch next to me in the living room. I've been missing Mama a lot lately.

Maybe... Maybe one call won't hurt.

I'm dialing almost before I finish the thought. My heart hammers. What am I going to tell her if she asks about Christos? Or Dante?

She picks up after a few rings. "Hello? Who is "

"Mama!" I squeal.

"Zouzouni?" she asks disbelievingly. "I thought I mean, I feared-"

"I'm all right, Mama," I say. "Safe and sound."

Her broken sob crackles through the phone. "Why did you not call sooner? Oh, I was so worried."

"I'm sorry, Mama." Tears sting my own eyes, and I wish she was here to hug. "It wasn't safe."

"To call? That Dante lies to you," she says. "It is always safe to call your mama."

I know that's not true after my weeks in the boss' chair, but I don't disagree with her. "How are you? I want to hear everything."

"Pah! You want to hear about me after all this time?" I can picture her shaking her head. "Ohi. You first, zouzouni."

I tell her...not everything, but a lot. That I got into the Tandon Institute, which earns gasps and cheers. That I killed Luca, which earns gasps and a few more tears. That Dante and I are something, which earns gasps and a lecture on making sure I'm safe with my heart and my body. I poke one of the dark bruises hidden under my shirt and make a mental note to be careful when Mama comes home. Nothing about Cal Duncan, who seems to have ceased nosing around since the barbecue, or my time as boss. My time as a Saint at all, really. Or Christos.

Mama murmured a soft prayer. "So much in so little time."

"You can say that again." I sit back in my chair and sigh. "But I've missed you, Mama. How are things in Parikia?"

"Things are...." She mutters something. "Things are Adriani. She brings drama with her wherever she goes. I cannot make friends with a neighbor but she hates them, cannot strike up a conversation in the market but she is refused service." I laugh and start to settle in for a longer conversation. "Refused service? You have to-"

Footsteps sound in the hallway behind me. I turn and see Gianna, still wearing her makeup from dancing last night in smeary streaks. My heart sinks.

"Can I call you back, Mama?"

"Oh. Yes, of course. Call often. Make your...mafioso pay the international bills," she says.

"I will." I mean it, too. My chest aches just hearing her voice. I've missed her more than I realized. After a few more goodbyes, I finally hang up.

Gianna has taken one of the armchairs in the room. "I'm freaking out over nothing. You should call your mom back."

I smudge a thumb over her cheek and show her the layer of blush and sparkles that comes back. "If you wanted me to think you were fine, you should've showered."

She laughs, though the sound has a manic edge, and stands. "Really, I shouldn't have come here. I don't know if he "

"He?" I ask.

She flinches. Goose bumps break out across my skin. Nothing scares Gianna like this, and certainly not some man. I grab her wrist and pull her onto the couch with me.

"You have to tell me."

She inhales shakily. "I'm probably just being paranoid. But I was dancing last night-"

I bite back the word "obviously."

"-and this new guy showed up. I assume everything's normal, dance up on him like usual, but there's something in the back of my head saying I recognize him. I ignore it. I meet a lot of guys. So anyway, he pays for a private dance." I grin. From my time as the boss, I know the money on those is good.

"Right? I was thrilled." She runs a hand through her long hair. "But once we get in there, he just wants to talk. That happens too sometimes, but his questions were...weird. Like, he wanted to know about my dad, and who owned the club, and why all the security was clustered around one random backroom." She raises her eyebrows at me.

I nod, then shake my head. "I'm not following."

"Ithinkhewasacop," she blurts.

I reel back. "You have to tell-fuck. Dante's gone for the day. He might be at Piacere?"

She shakes her head. "I might've checked there first."

"And scared the shit out of Carla looking like that, I bet." I rub her shoulder, my mind whirring. A cop. I haven't been super involved in the Saints day-to-day, too busy getting ready for Tandon, but this is important. This is a red-alert situation. "Okay, here's what we're going to do. You're going to come upstairs with me and shower. While you're doing that, I'll text everyone who might know where Dante is. And if I haven't found him by the time you get out, you and I are going on a boss hunt."

She nods. "So you don't think I'm just losing it?"

"Of course not." I smile. "Not that I'm always the best judge of that. But I'd rather cry cop when there's no cop than miss something."

"Yeah. Of course." She smiles and already looks a little steadier, like just admitting what happened helped.

I lead her upstairs and text all the capos who update me most often about Dante while she showers. But Gianna takes a long time in the shower, and sending texts doesn't take long at all. Eventually, my mind drifts away from the cop and to her repeated questioning of whether she was just freaking out.

"Hey, can I ask you something?" I yell over the spray.

"Can't hear you," she calls back. "Come in!"

I open the door slowly. I know this happens in movies, but I've never really had a "talk to me while I'm in the shower" level friend. The curtain hides everything of her but an outline. I sit on the toilet and stare at the wall anyway. "So Camila showed up to the barbecue," I say.

She whistles. "Lemme guess, you got the wives' version of events?"

"I certainly got an earful." I smile wryly. "Do you know her?"

"By reputation mostly. Why do you ask?"

"Because I want to know if I'm just freaking out." I sigh. "When she walked in, I thought-"

The door opens downstairs. I shoot up.

"Eleni?" Seb calls.