Free Footsteps by Susan Fanetti Page B

noticeably over his shoulders. He’d actually done some
boxing and competitive MMA in his twenties, but he’d blown a knee.
It had been repaired, but he hadn’t been so enamored of the sport
that he’d been willing to cripple himself for it.
     
    Their father had the same build. In later
life, it had tended to roundness, but Luca, at thirty-three, was
all hard muscle. Despite his greater height and his own cut
physique, on which he worked with some sense of commitment, Carlo
often felt unsubstantial next to his younger brother.
     
    That was brought home again as they sat on
the beach. As usual, all the girls who walked by saw Luca first and
smiled at him, their hips picking up a little extra sway when he
smiled back. And he always smiled back.
     
    But this afternoon he was less welcoming of
the girls’ attention than usual. He and Carlo were talking in some
depth. They were both in their father’s doghouse now.
     
    Carlo had first asked about Joey, but Luca
didn’t know more than Carmen had, which wasn’t much. Whatever was
going on with Joey and the Uncles was new. Carlo Sr. had grabbed
his youngest son by the collar after breakfast and pulled him into
his study. They’d still been in there when Carlo had left Trey
watching television with Rosa and John and had gone out to have a
paddle with Luca. The waves had been a little mushy, but it was
always good just to get wet.
     
    When they came back in and settled on the
beach, they’d first talked about Luca, because Carlo had taken a
preemptive strike and put their conversation on that path. Luca and
Carlo Sr. were fighting over a job bid, it turned out. Luca thought
their father was underbidding on a big job, to the point that he
thought it could hurt them. When he’d gotten nowhere in private
discussion, he’d challenged the bid in front of the customer.
     
    Carlo was pretty glad he’d been in
Providence for the explosion that Luca had described.
     
    “What’s the fallout?”
     
    Luca shrugged. “We’ll see next week. After
that scene in front of the customer, I expect we’ll lose the bid.
But I’m glad. No way we could have made it with such a close shave.
He should have seen it even without me pointing it out. He
definitely should have seen it after I did. Something’s going on
with Pop. It’s like he’s getting desperate all of a sudden. I can’t
figure it. But I need to keep some space between him and me for a
while. Much as I can.”
     
    There wasn’t much space Luca could get. He
was chief supervisor, in charge of all the crews. He was their
father’s right hand. But now Carlo understood why he hadn’t shown
for the cookout.
     
    “Could he be sick? He was on me yesterday
about abandoning the family legacy. He even said he was going to
die, and then where would things be.”
     
    Luca laughed. “No way he’ll ever see that it
should be me. Fucking sucks, too. I love that damn company.”
     
    “I know. I still say he’ll come around
eventually. If only because there’s no one else.” The idea of
either John or Joey at the helm of Pagano & Sons was a joke.
Both worked crews—or had; Carlo wasn’t sure about Joey now—and both
were good on a job site, but neither had the acumen to run the
business.
     
    “Yeah. But nah, I don’t think he’s sick. I
see him every day. If he is, the Oscar goes to, because he’s big
and strong and tough as ever. The moods are getting to be a pain in
the ass, but he’s not irrational. Just a son of a bitch. There’s
something goin’ on, though. Somewhere.” Luca drained his beer and
opened the cooler for another, tossing a fresh to Carlo, too. “But
my shit with Pop is old news. How’d you end up bunking with me in
the shithouse? Tell me what’s up with this chick. She’s hot—wicked
rack on her.”
     
    He guessed he’d staved this conversation off
as long as he could. “She’s just a nice woman that I met. I only
walked her home when she left the bonfire last night.