fake friends

FRANCESCA

I’M NOT SURE what I’m feeling. I have questions. So many of them. I want to ask him. If he hadn’t discovered my betrayal, I might have asked, but now it seems impossible.

I can’t bring myself to confide in him. He could easily tell me to get lost or that it’s none of my business.

I worry for him. I wait for his arrival at home. I miss his warmth. And I miss our fleeting moments together.

Pathetically, I find joy in his company. But he doesn’t, because ignoring me comes so easily to him.

I knock twice on the white wooden door and wait for the words, ~come in~. There’s no sound.

I try to walk in, thinking this is the room ~N~onna ~described, but the door doesn’t open. It’s locked.

I jiggle the doorknob once more before groaning in frustration. Anxiety claws up my neck. I don’t know my way around here and I don’t trust anyone.

At least back home I knew who to trust and who was in charge. There, I could even muster up the courage to ask Antonio’s brothers. They were sweet, even though we didn’t talk much.

Here, I know no one.

Is this Antonio’s way of punishing me? It seems absurd but it’s a possibility; Antonio is unpredictable. I don’t think so though. He’s not childish.

If he wanted to punish me, I would know. Antonio doesn’t do petty. He’s just not like that.

I decide to sit on the couch in a nearby living room. That way, I’ll notice when he comes back. I’m not going to be the idiot wandering around trying to find him.

That would be stupid, and would just lead me to more trouble. I don’t care enough anyway.

It’s common sense not to trust unknown surroundings, or go wandering around looking for him. If he left, it’s his problem. He’ll come back on his own.

“Francesca?” I jump in surprise and stand up, not knowing who it is. I spin around as if I’ve been struck by lightning. A sigh of relief immediately escapes my lips.

Gianna giggles as she looks at my surprised face. “Dang, girl! You got scared.”

But Amalia smiles warmly. “She was just surprised, Gianna.”

“Big difference,” she retorts.

I’m embarrassed. I was honestly scared for my life. I had the feeling that I was going to get jumped. Or worse. The fear is creeping back.

“What are you guys doing here?” I ask, very confused. They’re the consigliere and underboss’s wives. But then I realize how stupid my question is. Their husbands are supposed to be with the Don.

Gianna is about to answer but Amalia beats her to it. “I think you already know the answer.”

“Where the Don goes, the underboss and consigliere follow soon after. This is an important event,” Gianna says as they walk forward.

I’m oblivious to what they’re talking about. I don’t want to look stupid asking them, but I want to know as well.

“No, I mean what are you doing awake at this time? And what event?” I ask like a fool.

Gianna smirks but Amalia smiles. I like her better. Gianna always seems like one of those friends who always wants to be above you, but it might just be a bad feeling.

Amalia seems more genuine. Or it could all be an act, considering that one can’t always be trustworthy in the Mafia. Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer.

“We just arrived,” Gianna answers the first question as they both sit down. She sits opposite me on another couch and Amalia sits beside me with her legs crossed.

“There is an event hosted by the Godfather for all the Families. No weapons and no fights unless you want to be killed. It’s a meeting of peace—~La Nostra Pace~— in the form of a party.”

“I’ve never heard of this. How long has it been going on? Is it like the Commission Meetings?” I ask, curious.

Gianna shrugs. “Forever, I guess. But no one really attended it until your husband did. Ever since then, it’s become a meeting for reviewing the borders and territories and stuff.”

“Yeah. It’s actually good though. Crime rates have gone down,” Amalia says with a happy smile. “And it’s quite similar to the Commission Meetings.

“Those meetings started becoming dangerous after 1985, when the FBI put mob bosses behind bars using RICO or something. But this is a party and it’s legal. Plus, it’s in Italy. Our domain.”

“How do you know about all this?” I question. “I don’t watch the news a lot.”

“You should,” she says. “But if you check the news, the Families aren’t as hostile toward each other as they were during the last Don’s time. The breakouts have been fewer.”

“Raffaello?” I ask.

They nod before Amalia says, “the new Don is perfect for the role of Godfather. He did something that many of the previous dons couldn’t do.”

I feel proud for some reason. I feel like I’m being praised instead of him. A smile finds its way onto my face.

“Aww, you’re blushing,” Gianna gushes as she giggles.

I chuckle and look down. Amalia pats my arm in amusement. I pull on my sleeves, feeling embarrassed.

“What are you doing here, by the way? You should be in your room,” Amalia asks after a moment.

“I got locked out,” I answer with a light chuckle.

Gianna snickers. “Sad…your husband and ours are in the office upstairs. Maybe you should go there.”

“Gianna,” Amalia warns.

“What? I bet the Don would love to see his wife.” She bats her eyelashes at me, all innocence. “You’re not scared of him, are you?”

That’s when it hits me. She’s not the friend I thought she was. She’s poking at my pride, and it stings.

She’s been trying to get under my skin, and now she’s managed it.

“No.” I flash her a sweet smile. “I’m not. But I think you might be—of your husband, that is.”

There’s no reason to keep this up, but do I stop? Nope. Amalia stiffens next to me. She knows this is a touchy subject.

Well, Gianna shouldn’t have brought it up. It would’ve been touchy for me too.

Gianna’s smile wavers. “What do you mean?”

I pretend to inspect my nails before meeting her gaze. She’s actually quite pretty, with her petite, curvy figure. Her hair is piled high in a bun, with loose curls framing her face.

Her lips are painted a bold red, making her eyes stand out. In contrast, I’m still in the same dress and probably look exhausted.

“Whether I see my husband or not is up to me, darling. But I think you should see yours. He can be a bit...unpredictable,” I tell her.

Amalia doesn’t interrupt. She knows I outrank her, and I appreciate her respect. I see her shoot Gianna a warning look, silently telling her to back off.

She and Gianna are friends, and their husbands hold similar ranks. But it doesn’t matter. I’m the Donna, whether they like it or not.

It’s frustrating, dealing with women like Gianna who seem to get a kick out of belittling me for no reason.

Belittling me won’t get her hitched to Antonio. If anything, he’d kill her himself for being unfaithful. Infidelity is a big deal in the Mafia, especially for the women.

“Just make sure yours doesn’t. I’m handling mine just fine,” she snaps, teeth gritted. It’s not that I hate Gianna.

I liked her until now. I don’t understand why she’s suddenly so hostile.

“Of course, sweetheart. I wouldn’t dream of suggesting otherwise.”

I feel like a bully. Am I overreacting? But the damage is done.

“At least I’m not like you,” she shoots back.

“Gianna, shut up,” Amalia hisses, but I can see the fear in her eyes.

“Of course you’re not like me. I’m the Donna.” I cross my legs, irritated. “If you have something to say, just say it.”

“Fine! Stay away from my husband.”

A pause. A deadly silence.

I can’t help it. I burst out laughing. So that’s what this is about. She’s a great actress, and she’s got guts, until our husbands come into the picture.

“I’m married, Gianna. I don’t cheat and I don’t backstab,” I tell her. “You’re making a mountain out of a molehill.”

A small smirk appears on her face. “If you’re so sure about your relationship with the Don, why don’t you go see for yourself what they’re doing upstairs. I’ll even come with you.”

“Sure,” I agree, even though I know I’m being foolish. I’m well aware that my husband might not be faithful.

But I go anyway, bracing myself for a humiliating reality check.

Instead, I see something entirely different.