𝐋𝐮𝐜𝐚

After the brief. The security details leave the room and the family is left alone. The room is silent but just a few crackle, and babble of us while adjusting the small ear pieces that came with the guns.

"Are you going to be okay?" the question was directed to the three women huddled together looking shrank, horrified, and out of place.

They don't say anything at first, they look confused, bewildered, but their eyes are fixed on uncle Raph.

"It's not as bad as it seems?" he comforts them. They nod in unison but remain seated.

"Come on, we need to go." I watch them take a few seconds to get up, how they each look at the guns put on the table in front of them as if they were afraid they would burst into frames when they touch them even though they each knew how to use a gun.

It's okay to learn it in theory, to laugh while doing it in case you might need the skill in the future, but a whole different case when the future is a few minutes away. To be confronted with a life your children are about to inherit especially since you are aware of the danger, the darkness that lives within it is not something any loving mother wants to live through.

Eventually, they stand, pull their guns and with trembling hands shove them in their pockets.

"The children are not afraid, you need to put your faith in them." uncle Bruno says. My mother scowls at him, and he hides a smile. It's the first real smile I have seen on him perhaps since they got the news that Charlie was dead.

When we leave the room, the security steps aside, parting like the red sea, like it's choreographed to allow us to step in the middle. It's moving time as we walk through the corridors of the Trippe B wines offices. I find myself relieved that most employees are inside the offices, just a few here and there, gawking at our entourage. I imagine its fascinating to watch.

The cars in the parking lot are many. It's a convoy that displays wealth and power to the outside eye, but to us, and those that understand the danger, the risk of being in organized crime can tell it's more than that. It shows tight security—a shield, a barricade so high it was impregnable. In a way, it scares me to know that this kind of travelling and security will be needed for the rest of my life.

I let out an excited sigh when I see the cars that lined up for us. They are new, we are so used to travelling in range rovers that having a different model is both exciting and anxious. My brain can't stop thinking of the reason. My father opens the first one parked at the exit—a Mercedes S600 Guard. All of them are black and beautiful.

Our travelling arrangement Is strategic just like everything else we've been through so far. My dad starts the car, and I can see him adjusting the mirrors and his seat before he reversed it until he stops beside uncle Raph and then he gets out, leaving the engine running. Uncle Raph slides into the back seat and his wife, aunt Soph sits beside him. In the passenger's seat, sits Emanuele—he is tall, with a golden head, a tattoo of an opened mouth of a tiger on the right side of his neck, the sharp teeth of the animal looking as menacing as he was. Matteo once said he is an assassin on retainer for the family, which is not shocking or surprising.

I get in beside Lia. Matteo is driving our car with Dev beside him.

My mother is in the same car with aunt Mia, and uncle Rom.

When we are all ready, the convoy starts its descent. A few cars in front, the family in the middle and a few others at the back.

When we arrive at the venue, we are shown where to part. I could tell the people directing the mourners must know my family, it's on their faces—the reverence.

"Here we go," Lia says a moment before Dev opens her door.

They say every burial has its mourners.

I'm not one of the mourners at this funeral. I did not have an emotional connection to the departed, nor do I feel sad. But my father, uncle Rom, and uncle Raph are mourning. Their faces are drawn, their eyes sunken as they walk through the small church where father Josè is sitting waiting to give a small service before Dr Charlie is laid to rest.

I see Lia give a small bow to a woman at the front with her a black veil covering her face. She nods, and we pass to sit on the opposite side of the aisle.

"Thats Dr Orsini?"

Lia nods as she sits beside me.

I steal a glance at her. She had her head down, her hands on her lap. I couldn't imagine the pain of losing a loved one. I heard a lot about her yesterday night from our moms. She was the family obstetrician, she helped with the birth of all the others except me since I was born here, in Italy.

It's like they were waiting for us because a few minutes after we sat down, father Josè stood. He was getting old, his weight seemed to be too much for him, his hands too heavy as he placed them across the podium.

He cleared his throat.

"Buongiorno, è con molta tristezza che siamo qui riuniti.   Good morning. it's with a lot of sadness that we are gathered here

The service was beautiful. I listened to his comforting voice speaks of God calling us home, and while I do not understand much of that premise, I found it comforting to hear that Dr Charlie was in a better place—away from pain and I'm sure his daughter appreciated the priest's words more than anything.

Once the service was over, we remained seated while we waited for the others to move from the church. It also gave us an opportunity to say hallo to father José.

He smiled while walking toward us, ever so slowly because of his gout. We stood, moving to meet him halfway.

"Now now. Don't topple me," he said with a small laugh when Alessa and Sienna threw themselves at him. 

"It's good to see all of you though it is under sad circumstances."

We agreed.

"Let's go lay the good man to rest. We will have enough time to talk later" he added, unhurriedly walking out of the church between uncle Raph and Rom.

We followed them, keeping their pace.

The man had one daughter and two grandsons—twins almost the same age as Alessa or Nic and Sienna, no way of knowing unless one was to ask.

But that would be rude, and I didn't care much to ask anyway.

When Dr Charlie's casket was lowered to rest, I heard a sniffle and I looked up to see the daughter swipe away a tear under the veil, her sons holding each of her arms. There was no man beside her, perhaps she was unmarried or a widow.

It didn't take long, so a few minutes later, instead of waiting restlessly around while the patriarchs and father Josè commiserated with the family, we decided to take walk around. 

"That was a sad service," Alessa said, sighing the moment we were out of hearing.

"Yeah, but the man sure has beautiful grandsons." Sienna added. I stifled a grin, my hands in my pockets ,"has or had?" Nic asked. Sienna glared at him, annoyed with the question. "Do they stop to be his grandson after his death?"

Nic shrugged but didn't say anything.

"You know, I should marry a golden-haired man. Can you imagine our children?" Sienna continued with a soft longing tone. "They would be gorgeous."

"Not a guaranteed that you can have golden head children, but you could marry Jamie,"  Alessa interjected, animation crossing her face. "He is so beautiful. I think he should be Sculptured.

I rolled my eyes. Jamie is the brother of Matthew Ocean's wife. He was my age, which means he is seven years older than Sienna.

"He is so very gorgeous." Sienna squealed with glee and then sobered up, "but then I would have to be nice to Nate. I can't stand him."

She can stand him alright, I thought. Sienna has some kind of love-hate relationship with Nathan Ocean. Sometimes I wonder if she knows the reason why she dislikes him so much is because she has an intense crush on him.

Since the cemetery wasn't so far from the small village church that we had vacated, we all strolled inside, we figured we could have a few moments alone, especially from curious eyes.

But then again, what if someone sets it on fire and we all die inside, together leaving our parents devastated?

"Maybe we shouldn't get back inside," I said gruffly, regretfully since I was looking forward to looking through the upper mullion.

"Why?" Nic asked in a curious tone.

"It could be dangerous to be in an enclosed space, especially together."

He mumbled unintelligently, looking up at the small quaint church.

Nic and I stood outside for a minute or so looking at I'm the church structure, it had a welcoming feel. Even as old and small as it looked. I heard laughter, and I turned to see Alessa and Serena walking hand in hand, their heads almost touching as they whispered to each other even though no one was within their hearing range.

Without saying a word, I leave Nic to follow Alessa and Serena. I'm not sure why I feel the need to follow them, but I do.

Where the hell are they going?

I turn a corner, following their hushing voices until I come to two rooms separated by a long corridor.

"Don't move," I hear an angry voice from one of the rooms, but even if I hadn't heard, the small almost invisible earpiece could still have picked the angry, brusque tone.

I automatically adjust the earpiece even though it's in place. It's like I want to do something while I think of my next move. 

"What happened to your lip?" I hear Alessa ask.

I swear that girl is too fearless for her own good.

"Shut up. I said don't say a fucking word!"

"No you didn't say that," Serena replied. She sounded bored, annoyed like she is being inconvenienced, which I'm guessing she is.

"Kneel and raise your head up!" the man said. I turn around to see whether the others are following me. I knew they could hear this conversation, the girls sure knew we can hear them.

"You need to make up your fucking mind about what you want us to do. " Serena's haughty tone almost made me smile. Almost because this could turn out badly if they continue goading him.

"What?" the man asked as if he couldn't believe they weren't pissing themselves in fear.

"I hate uncertainty. It irks my sensibilities.

"What?" the man asked. Incredulously.

"It's true. She hates it." Alessa sounded sympathetic. But I knew she was faking it.

"One time," she started, sounding regretful. "We had two small remaining bundt cakes, they are baked in different flavours like chocolate, vanilla, coffee, and stuff, I'm not discriminatory, I can eat any, I love them. But then there were only two, chocolate and she said I could have the first pick..." I moved slowly so I could see inside, the girls were kneeling, their hands-on their laps, Alessa looking at the man with a gun as if he was some acquaintance telling him a story about a cake.

"Anyway, I took a bit of time because I wanted to take the biggest, but I couldn't make the choice fast enough for her. I still haven't forgiven her for it because I swear the one she took was the biggest."

"They're all shaped and baked in the same size," Serena argued.

"No, they're not."

"Shut up! Shut up!" the man screamed, taking one small second to close his eyes out of frustration. His mistake because it was all the time Alessa needed to pull out her gun and shoot one of his hands.

It came as a surprise to him when he fell backwards with a yelp. More so when she stood over him and shot the other hand.

"You should have that lip checked out," Alessa mumbled, elegantly tucking her gun back into her pocket. That she could talk about the split lip instead of the hands that would probably have to be amputated because of her told of how much of a cold-blooded person she was.

"You scare me sometimes, Alessa," Serena told her when they walked out of the room.

"Not more than you scare me." She replied.

"Thank you for not coming in." She told me when passed me by the door.

I shrugged, "someone had to man the door."