Her Mafia Brothers

Dinner

The laundry chute fascinated me. I didn't even know such things existed. Imagine! A hole in the wall with a slide that sent clothes down to the laundry. I peered down the dark tunnel, but I couldn't see anything. Was there a trapdoor at the bottom or how did it work? And where was the laundry anyway? Logan hadn't shown me the laundry on the tour he gave me of the house. Maybe he figured I didn't need to know. They probably have staff to do the laundry.

As quickly as I could, I pulled on my leggings and Logan's hoodie. It smelled of him and came down nearly to my knees, with the sleeves hanging well over the ends of my fingers. My hands disappeared inside it. I snuggled into it as I walked down the stairs. It was strangely comforting, wearing my big brother's hoodie. It made me feel like I belonged. Like these men who were still mostly strangers to me, but who I was slowly getting to know, actually were my brothers and not just random people.

Most of my brothers were already seated at the dining table when I arrived, followed closely by Damon.

"Nice hoodie," Logan said as I walked into the room and I felt myself blush just a little. It almost felt like I'd been caught doing something moderately naughty, like with my hand in the proverbial cookie jar.

"Alex gave it to me," I told him, not wanting to get myself in trouble.

"It's fine," he reassured me. "You can borrow whatever you want of mine. I don't mind." He smiled at me and immediately, I relaxed. His words were as comforting as his big, warm hoodie.

"Sit there, between Jack and Logan." Damon pointed at the only unoccupied chair, as he took a seat at the head. At the other end sat Alex. I sat down between my brothers, opposite Rocco and Nick. It was clear these were their usual spots; they obviously sat in the same seats every time. Orderly. Disciplined. The way everything about Damon seemed to be.

Not long after we sat down, a woman who looked to be in her mid-forties brought out a steaming dish of lasagne and set it down in the middle of the table. Following her, a man roughly the same age carried a huge bowl of salad. It was the first glimpse of the elusive staff that I'd had, and it was weird. Coming from such poverty to this, was surreal. I didn't dare to even believe it, I was so amazed by the luxury. Imagine not having to help prepare a meal! And there was plenty of it, too. Looking at the huge dishes of food in front of us, I knew Damon hadn't been lying when he said I would never be hungry again.

My brothers dug in, serving themselves ginormous portions of lasagne and salad. How could one person eat so much? My eyes were nearly bugging out of my head as I watched them load up their plates.

Jack scooped a spoonful of lasagne onto my plate, while Logan added some salad. I'd never been waited on like this before. Even when we'd had a proper sit-down cooked meal, which hadn't been often, I'd been expected to help prepare it, and serve it myself.

"More?" Jack asked.

I shook my head. I'd already eaten more today than I normally did, and I really didn't know how much more I'd be able to fit in, even though the lasagne smelled delicious.

"Verbal answer," Damon reminded me from his seat at the end of the table.

I felt myself colour as Logan snickered beside me, but he was quickly silent as Nick glared fiercely at him from across the table.

"Sorry," I muttered. "No thank you," I said to Jack. "I'm not used to eating big meals."

Jack smiled at me. "That's okay sweetheart," he said. "If you eat all that and you're still hungry you're allowed more. You can eat as much as you want, here."

The lasagne was delicious! It tasted even better than it smelled, and it smelled pretty good. It was by far the best meal I'd ever eaten.

I'd only put a few forkfuls into my mouth when the staff appeared again, carrying a tray holding two opened bottles of wine and some long-stemmed glasses, which they placed on the table in front of us. They spoke to Damon in hushed tones for a moment, then they left. I was only guessing, but it looked like Damon was dismissing them for the evening.

My brothers helped themselves to wine, but nobody got any for me. So I reached for the bottle and a glass myself.

"No, you're too young for wine," Jack told me, grabbing my wrist to stop me.

"But-" my voice trailed off. Jack raised an eyebrow at me, as if daring me to continue. I gathered my courage. "I'm 14!" I reminded him.

"Yes," he smiled. "Too young for alcohol."

"But Logan is drinking it!" I exclaimed. "And he's not old enough to legally drink! That's not fair! I bet you were all drinking alcohol younger than me." I pouted, looking down at my plate. It was so unfair. Alcohol was something that had never been hidden from me. Whisky, rum, beer, cider, wine.... You name it, my mother had drunk it in front of me, and hadn't bothered to keep me from it. When she was asleep, or passed out, high on drugs, I'd help myself to whatever was there. It helped numb the pain from the beatings and abuse I endured. It helped stop the rumbling in my empty stomach. It helped dull the hunger pangs. It drowned out my tragic, shitty life.

"I'll get you some Sprite," Alex volunteers, and stands up from the table.

"No! Why can't I have wine? I've had alcohol plenty of times before, you know." I don't know where my bravery is coming from. Maybe I'm getting too comfortable with my brothers. Maybe I'm forgetting my place. Maybe I believed them too much when I said I was safe here, and wouldn't be beaten. Maybe I'm forgetting just how scary my brothers can be.

Alex ignores me and heads into the kitchen, presumably to get me a drink that doesn't have alcohol in it. A child-friendly one.

Nobody answers my question. But Damon, from the head of the table, looks sternly at me and scolds: "Carrie! Enough. It's not up for discussion." Like every other time he's scolded me, his voice isn't loud. But it's filled with authority.

"It's just a question," I snap, with far too much attitude in my voice.

From beside me, Logan puts his hand over my mouth. "Don't you have any sense of self preservation?" he hisses in my ear.

"Shush. Don't argue," Jack tells me sternly at the same time.

"I don't want you getting in trouble on your first day," Logan says softly as he takes his hand away.

I look down, embarrassed. Ashamed. Scared.

"Sorry," I whisper.

"That's your only warning." Damon raises his fork at me. "The next time you argue back to any of us you'll be punished."

I feel my face flush. I must be as red as a tomato.

Suddenly Alex appears from out of nowhere. "She already got a couple of warning swats upstairs before, for yelling at me," he announces, putting a glass of what I assume is Sprite with ice and a straw in it, in front of me.

I blush even more and wish the floor would open up and swallow me whole. Does nobody care about my dignity? It was bad enough that Damon told me off in front of my brothers instead of in private but Alex? Was he trying to make me die of mortification?

Damon raised an eyebrow at me, his stern, intimidating glare sending chills down my spine as Alex walked around the table and sat back down.

Shame flooded me.

"I'm sorry," I whisper, my voice shaky. I don't know what else to say. I don't know what else to do. I want to run and hide, to escape up to my brand new bedroom, but I'm too afraid to move.

I've lost my appetite now. Before, I'd been starting to feel like I belonged here, like I was one of the family. But now, that couldn't feel further from the truth. Now I just felt like I was a burden.

As if sensing my distress, Jack puts his arm around me, then rubs his hand up and down my spine, comforting me. Reassuring me that everything is okay. I blink back my tears. Please don't let me cry, I beg to whoever's in charge of the universe. I'm embarrassed enough.

I feel stupid. Really, really stupid. Why on earth did I think I was on any kind of equal footing with these men, enough to be able to drink alcohol? There was a definite hierarchy here, and I'm right at the bottom of it.

My brothers all talked amongst themselves for a bit, while I forked lasagne into my mouth, willing myself to eat, and not draw any more attention to myself.

Their discussion was animated, but I tuned it out and tried to make myself as small as possible, instinctively trying to hide. If I couldn't see them, they couldn't see me, right?