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Virgil Sollozzo is a thug.
Livia can see that immediately, and rolls her eyes when Connie sighs a little. He’s got a thick neck and a sarcastic brow, and Livia doesn’t like the look of him one bit. He’s not even handsome, which is Connie’s usual type, but Livia knows that her sister’s soft in the head about men. Connie sees violence as strength just because for Sonny, that’s true. Thing is, and this is what Connie doesn’t understand, Sonny is exceptional. Livia knows that, everyone who’s ever met him knows that, and Livia sometimes wonders why it is that Connie can’t see it. Her sister isn’t stupid, no matter how much she might act as if she is, but after the way she fought to marry fucking Carlo-
Anyway. Anyway. That’s a battle long since lost.
Livia and Connie have set up across the street from the shop, in Dona Angelina’s place - she’s a friend of Mama’s, came across on the boat with her, and makes the best bread in the city. Livia watches from underneath her hat, counting heads as the men begin to trickle out. The meeting clearly didn’t go well, which is a lot more important than Connie’s thick head. Pop wasn’t so interested to begin with, because he’s cautious, because he doesn’t trust easily, but Sonny pushed and pushed and Tom backed him, because the money in drugs is incredible. Pop can never hold out against something that any of them really wants, even if all he does is give them just enough of a taste to prove that he was right to deny them in the first place.
Based on the sour, angry set of Sollozzo’s broad mouth, Pop didn’t even allow Sonny a taste. Just a glance, if even that much.
That broad mouth turns up into what Livia’s sure is supposed to be a charming smile when Sollozzo bounds across the street to them. A frowning waiter slides neatly between Sollozzo and Connie when he stops right beside them - good. Connie needs guarding a lot more than Livia does, even if she’s Mrs Rizzi and Livia’s the one who ought to be more at risk, as plain Miss Corleone.
“Miss Corleone,” is indeed what Sollozzo says, aiming for debonair charm, like sweet, dumb Johnny Fontane. He must have a bad eye or something, because she’s never seen anyone miss so badly. “How’s about you and I find something a little tastier to eat, huh?”
Livia swipes up the last trace of oil and vinegar on her plate with a crust of bread - bright golden olive oil, inky black balsamic vinegar, still sweet from the ripe and roasted tomatoes - and smiles, ducking her head to hide most of it behind the brim of her hat.
“My father imported this olive oil, Mr Sollozzo,” she says, and lifts her face to look him square in the eye. That always takes them aback - it’s her favourite weapon, at school and among all the dangerous men who surround her father, her family. Men aren’t used to women looking at them directly, and she has Mama’s black Sicilian eyes, too. Tom says she’s disarming. Fredo says that, when she wants to be, she’s fucking terrifying. “You should send some to your wife.”
Like the thug he is, Sollozzo lets his smile reform into a snarl. Like the shark he is, he glides away out of sight.
For now, at least.
“You could’ve let him take you out for dinner, Livvie,” Connie sighs, stirring her long-melted affogato into ever more unappealing slush. Connie doesn’t even really like coffee so much, but options to satisfy her sweet tooth were limited, and it’s unseasonably humid today - humid enough that Livia can feel her thighs sticking together under her skirt. They didn’t need to come, not with this being a business meeting, not with the weather being so damp and horrible, but Livia wanted to be on hand to keep Sonny quiet in case things went exactly as they have. Connie came because Livia was coming, and it’s not like they see each other so much anymore, not with Connie moved in with Carlo while Livia’s in the city for school. “You don’t go out enough.”
“I go out plenty with my friends at school,” Livia says, and that’s enough to mollify even Connie. Livia never tells too many tales of school at home, partly because she knows it’d only make Pop assign her a full security detail to know just how sociable she is, and partly because she knows how jealous Connie would be to know all the places Jack’s name and Jack’s money get them into. “Hey, look, there’s some movement - let’s go see what happened, huh?”
Connie springs up and dashes across the street to loop her arm through Sonny’s as he storms out the door, and Livia lets her go. She waits a moment to stub out her cigarette, to leave a good tip for the waiter who jumped to Connie’s defence, to thank Dona Angelina for her hospitality and to praise the quality of her bread, all baked in-house. Once all of that business is taken care of, she steps into the thin sunshine and walks across to walk into the office, searching for Pop and Tom.
Uncle Pete blows her a kiss when he stands aside to let her up the stairs, and Tessio gives her a curt nod - he doesn’t like her, for no reason she can understand - but Fredo goes “Woof, Livvie! Woof!” and kisses her on both cheeks before darting past her. That’s a bad sign, even without Sonny’s obvious temper and Sollozzo’s sour face.
She ducks around a huge floral display - that has Johnny’s name all over it, he’s sent similar to Connie and to Livia for their birthdays before - and slips into Pop’s office, to speak with him and with Tom. She knows Pop would object if he knew just how much Tom tells her, about family business. She knows that Tom cares as little as she does about her father’s objections.
“Bad?”
“Eh,” Tom says. “About what we expected, I’d say.”
He’s sweating. His collar is sticking to the back of his neck, and his sleeve is a little damp in the crook of his elbow when she tucks her hand into the bend there. Livia doesn’t usually hang off of Pop, not the way Connie does, because Pop’s arm is and always has been Mama’s place. She has no desire to usurp her mother’s authority within the family, no more than Sonny really wants Pop’s place within the Family, and she hopes, somehow, that her silly little gesture hasn’t gone unnoticed.
“Sollozzo wanted me to go on a date with him,” she tells Pop, and is rewarded with a sharp, slightly frantic look. Pop doesn’t worry often, but when he does, it’s about one of his girls - her and Connie, Tess and Sandy, and especially Mama. “I said he should send some olive oil to his wife, that I can get him the best quality in the city.”
“My best saleswoman,” Pop says, relaxing immediately, grinning and pinching her cheek. “You did not feel threatened?”
“Of course not,” she promises, even if maybe she did, a little. Wouldn’t do to admit to that though. It’s a woman’s business to put off assholes like Sollozzo, and it only becomes a man’s business if she fails - defence lies in a woman’s hands, and vengeance in a man’s. “And if I did, I’ve got the best champions in the city - who’s going to lay a hand on me or Connie, knowing you all are lurking around the corner, huh?”
Things are strained at home, after that. Livia’s relieved to be back in the city, back at school, back to the normality of going on dates with Jack. She’s even kind of relieved to be at a Shea party, which she usually hates - Jack’s family are always the absolute picture of kindness to her, and she thinks his father and his oldest brother and sister might even like her, genuinely, but his mother has made it abundantly clear she doesn’t think an Italian girl who’s smarter than’s stylish is a good fit for her favourite son.
Still. Saint Rosemary’s good opinion is never going to be Livia’s, but she’s got Tony Shea eating out of the palm of her hand, and she’s talked all kinds of prominent members of the Italian-American business establishment of New York into donating to Senator Desmond Wilton Shea’s campaign for Albany. Even if close proximity to D.W. wasn’t half the point of Livia’s engagement to Jack, she kind of thinks she might have helped. D.W. and his wife Atty are probably Livia’s favourite Sheas, if only because they acknowledge and don’t seem to mind that her father’s involved in more businesses than just import-export. Everyone else skirts around the issue so much it makes her dizzy, which is just plain annoying.
It’s D.W. and Atty who are with her on the balcony, smoking and enjoying the mulled wine Rosemary ordered because it’s close enough to the holidays that that’s not gauche, when Virgil goddamn Sollozzo makes his appearance. Livia, busy laughing at some absolutely ridiculous story Atty’s telling about a party they were invited to by accident in D.C. by some Southern senator who clearly did not want any Catholics in his house, does not notice Sollozzo until he’s already at her elbow.
“Miss Corleone,” he says, a hot, possessive hand settling right above her ass. “Imagine my surprise at seeing you here!”
He’s speaking Italian. His accent grates on her ear, too used to real Sicilians, but she grits her teeth and doesn’t scowl. Just.
“Mr. Sollozzo,” she says, in English, and draws away from him to stand opposite him, with D.W. and Atty. Atty slips an arm around Livia’s waist, just the way Tess might. “Are you a donor to D.W.’s campaign?”
“Oh, me? No, Dona Livia, no, I am not political - although, the rumours that we might see a Catholic in the White House by the end of the decade? I could be convinced! No, I am here to see you.”
She doesn’t like him calling her Dona Livia. That’s something… Private. Something in-house. Luca Brasi, he calls her Dona Livia as a mark of respect, and probably a little because Luca’s not the best at picking up on jokes. Uncle Pete and some of the others, they call her Dona Livia as a joke because she’s always the one corralling the boys and bringing them to heel.
“I consider that very strange, signore, because I have certainly not invited you to show such interest. In fact, I made my position on your interest very clear at our last meeting. Tell me, did you ever send that olive oil to your wife?”
“Livia,” Atty says, squeezing her waist gently. “You wanna introduce us, honey?”
Atty’s from Alabama, has a drawl that could strip paint and a way of looking over the rim of her little rhinestone glasses that would make the Pope himself think twice before questioning her, and Livia can’t completely hide a smile at the way Sollozzo recoils a hair at her obvious distaste.
“Signor Sollozzo,” Livia says, “wanted to do business with my father, but - well, my father’s supply lines are so well established at this stage that he’s not in the market for new product, you know? So it came to nothing.”
D.W.’s eyebrows rise and fall all at once. Livia wishes Jack were here, just to see if he’d handle it all as gracefully as his brother is.
“Signor Sollozzo, I’m sure you know Senator Shea and his wife, Mrs. Shea? My fiancé is Senator Shea’s youngest brother.”
“I hadn’t heard your good news,” Sollozzo says, obviously displeased. “I suppose I must offer my congratulations.”
“Only if you mean them,” D.W. says, with his best, most political smile. It reveals absolutely nothing, and reminds Livia a little of her father’s work face, the expressionless expression he uses with people who call him Don Corleone.
Al Neri is just at the door back into the ballroom, at the edge of Livia’s sightline, and she can see him signalling - probably to Jack. Al’s Livia’s bodyguard in part because he’s maybe the most loyal man in the whole organisation after Luca Brasi and Uncle Pete and Sal Tessio, and in part because he’s a little more New York and less pure Sicily than most other candidates and so blends in a bit better when Livia’s at school or when she’s around Jack’s family. She likes him, too, considers him as genuine a friend as she has, outside her family. If Al’s signalling for Jack, he must think Jack can chase Sollozzo off quicker than he could himself.
“So what sort of business are you in, Mr. Sollozzo?” Atty asks brightly. “Livia mentioned import-export, so something along those lines? I’ve tried her father’s olive oil, and there’s really nothing to compare - are you in a similar line of work?”
Sollozzo clearly wasn’t expecting D.W. and Atty - no one ever is, which is why D.W.’s going to be governor and why he’s going to be president soon after - and looks a little bamboozled.
“As I’m sure Livia can confirm,” he says, trying for an ingratiating smile, “I’m a man of many interests.”
Livia could just about puke. Does he think he’s being subtle? Charming? Does he think he’s fooling anyone, least of all her?
“It’s Miss Corleone thank you,” Livia says. “And here’s Jack - hi, honey, you looking for me?”
“Figured I’d best make the most of our night off,” he says, flashing a mouthful of teeth at Sollozzo. Livia’s been studying that look of his, all bright edges and insincerity. “I was gonna ask if you wanted to dance, but I see you’ve bumped into a friend. You want to introduce me, sweetheart?”
“This,” she says, stepping into the extended loop of Jack’s arm, letting him gather her close against his side. She doesn’t usually like this shit - finds his little shows of ownership insulting, really, wonders if they’re just a sign that he doesn’t trust her - but it’s working to her advantage just now. “This is a would-have-been business contact of my father’s, Mr Virgil Sollozzo. Signor Sollozzo, this is my fiancé, Jack Shea.”
Jack’s got a handshake like an earthquake, and Livia’s pleased to see it take Sollozzo by surprise. She knows what he was expecting, coming here tonight - he was expecting soft-touch Manhattanites who wouldn’t know what to do in the face of someone like him. The Sheas are Manhattanites, yeah, but they got there by a lot of the same roads that led her father to where he is now. The Sheas are an impenetrable fortress, nine children and soon to be nine children-in-law who are as loyal to their parents as Livia and her siblings are to Pop and Mama - moreso, maybe, because they’re a lot more scared of Rosemary than Livia or the rest have ever been of Mama.
Men like Sollozzo, who have aspirations no grander than those of the fools who deal drugs and guns on street corners, they’ll never understand Vito Corleone or Tony Shea. There’s never going to be a Senator Sollozzo, and no daughter of the Turk will ever marry a President’s brother.
“Livia and I were just saying-”
“She asked you to call her Miss Corleone,” Jack cuts in smoothly, brightly, and Livia wonders if it’s that Sollozzo can’t see Jack’s temper, or if he doesn’t think he ought to worry about it. She can see it. She’s worrying about it. “And I’m telling you. I don’t mind saying it, Mr Sollozzo, but your manner’s a little more familiar than’s really considered polite around here.”
Livia lets her hand slip under Jack’s jacket, press into the firm meat of his back. A reward for standing up for her, and a warning not to take it too far.
“But I’m sure that since you’re here, you’ll make a stop off at the donations table,” Jack offers, and Livia would laugh at the mortified expressions on D.W. and Atty’s faces if they were anywhere else but here. “It’s right by the exit, you see? My sisters Mrs. Crosby and Mrs. Vanderburgh are taking names so we don’t forget anyone when we’re writing our thank yous.”
Sollozzo’s smile is rigid, poisonous, but he knows he’s beaten.
“I’ll take my leave, then,” he says. “Senator, Mrs. Shea, Mr. Shea - Dona Livia.”
Livia turns the back of her head to him. Atty, who’s from Alabama and grew up with social rules a lot more like the code Livia’s mama taught her than anyone might guess, gasps at the obvious snub.
“Good evening, Mr. Sollozzo,” D.W. says, in his big, deep voice. “Don’t forget me on election day, now.”
They watch Sollozzo go - or rather, the Sheas do. Livia stays pressed close to Jack’s side, her face turned close to his shoulder, and tries not to be embarrassed by how completely she allowed them to defend her.
“If he ever comes near you again, Liv,” Jack says, the arm around her shoulders going tight. “You tell me. I won’t have any man who looks at you like that coming near you.”
“He came here to intimidate me,” she says quietly, not meeting his gaze. “My father refused his business, and he thinks he can- that I might be his way to Pop.”
She won’t be. No matter what, Livia will never allow a piece of shit like Sollozzo near her father. She might even believe it of herself, if her knees would just stop shaking.
“Des, Atty, have you seen - oh, thank God! Livia, honey, we’ve been looking everywhere for you, you gotta come now, your mother’s been on the phone looking for you-”
Rosemary Shea has never once called Livia honey, not in all the time she’s been seeing Jack. Mama’s never called for Livia when she’s with Jack’s family, either - she calls for Al, who discreetly lets Livia know that she’s needed at home.
Why was Sollozzo here, of all places? Tonight, of all nights?
“It’s your father, sweetheart, you’ve got to come now, he’s been shot.”
Livia tucks her gloves into the pocket of her coat, and thinks why have they left Poppa all alone like this? They pay good money to make sure that he’s well looked after, but the whole floor…
No. Surely not. No one could’ve paid off the cops and the nurses, could they? She might not be as well informed about this whole business as the boys, but she knows that much. Unless the nurses were told by the cops to vacate the floor. That would be enough to scare the nurses into abandoning their posts, wouldn’t it?
That’s what Livia would do. Keep the bribery to a minimum - no need to involve the nurses directly, and just a couple of gifts to carefully selected higher ups within the NYPD. It’s all very doable, really. A couple cops who’re in deep enough that backing out is impossible, so they’re more willing to take drastic action.
Shit. Okay. Al’s still out with the car. Livia’s a little drunker than intended - Jack was still seething about fucking Sollozzo hitting on her, as if that was her fault, and they bickered and sniped all through dinner and Livia, who can drink wine like water, had two more vodka sodas than her usual limit. Shit. She can’t run to get Al and get back without giving whoever is coming a chance to get past them.
“Okay, Pop,” she says, tucking her hair back behind her ear. “Okay. I’m gonna call Sonny-”
She calls Sonny. She can hear his temper rising by the way he slams the phone down.
“Okay, we’re gonna-”
The nurse that interrupts her is so fucking rude, but threatening to sue the hospital gets her moving. Not as fast as Livia might like, but a bit - a little bit.
Enzo’s appearance helps - fucking Enzo, she’ll have to find out who the hell he actually is just so she can send him a proper thank you, Jesus, what the hell - and then Al sees her standing on the hospital steps and bounds across the street in a smooth, loping cop’s stride right as the stupid, obvious car starts to slow down. They speed up real quick when they see Al coming, and Livia lets out all her breath on a sigh once his familiar shadow falls across her shoulder.
She’s a little insulted that her and Enzo alone weren’t deterrent enough to put off whatever bozos were going to kill her father, but she’s wearing her highest shoes and with her long coat and with her collar turned up, she probably looks like a real expensive hooker. Oh, well.
Enzo is dispatched to sit with her father, after she calls the house from the main reception desk at the hospital to let Mama know that so far, they’re still alive and well. She lets Al stand right behind her, facing the hospital doors, because if anyone walks in the sight of her lying bent over the desk like this, in these shoes, ain’t making her look any less a hooker.
Al waits with her outside on the front steps. He lights her cigarette for her, match flaring in his cupped hand before he passes it to her, and she lets him stand between her and the chilly wind while they wait for Sonny and Tom. She hopes Fredo comes, too - she feels like she’s about to climb right out of her skin, and the only person who’s ever been able to calm her down when she’s like this is Fredo.
Here’s Sonny, and Tom, and Fredo, and a bunch of the guys. Here also is Captain McCluskey, who’s got a big, fat mouth-
“So you’re the rude little bitch who won’t thank Don Sollozzo for his gifts!”
Livia’s temper is a slow, acidic thing. It can flash hot, though, and this ignites it - Virgil Sollozzo has been sending her gifts since that first shitty introduction at Dona Angelina’s, flowers first and then jewellery and, just two days ago, a nightgown, and Livia’s refused delivery of all of them. They make her feel dirty, make her feel wrong in a way not even telling Pop to agree to Jack’s marriage proposal for business reasons had.
So she snaps. So she says, “Aw, jealous he ain’t sending flowers to you, Captain?”
So she spits right in his eye.
McCluskey cracks her jaw with a furious, unthinking punch, the kind men save for other men - good. It looks worse for him that he hit her with a closed hand. It hurts worse than anything she’s ever felt, and the swelling is truly something, rapid and ugly, but it does the job - no one’s trying to get into the hospital now except her, swept up in Tom’s arms as Sonny and Fredo and Al fight back the indignant cops. She looks frail, and tragic, and she thinks she’s maybe going into shock. It really fucking hurts.
A camera flashes, somewhere close by. She wonders who called the papers, but she finds she isn’t mad about it. A cop punching a lady in the face like that? A lady as pretty as Livia, who cries like a statue of the Blessed Virgin? She wonders if she ought to speak to Tess, see if some of their friends can’t be found to give a statement to the papers.
“Please stop trying to talk,” Tom pleads later, for the tenth time, while they’re waiting on a doctor and he’s holding a big bunch of ice wrapped in a towel to her face. His other hand is cradling her head, over the opposite ear, and everything feels very far away. “God, Liv, just let us help.”
No, that’s her job. She helps. She manages. She keeps things running so Pop doesn’t need to worry. She tries to talk for an eleventh time, to tell him so, and is only stopped by Connie busting down the door of her room in hysterics, with Sonny close behind, trying to slow her down. This isn’t surprising - that’s just how Connie is, and Sonny’s the only one who can manage her when Livia’s not available - but what is surprising is that Connie starts beating Sonny with her purse, screaming at him, mascara running down her face and demanding “What’s even the point of you if you can’t protect us-”
Livia feels a little sad, because that means she was right about Carlo.
Livia also makes the front page, the next day. She looks all tragic and beautiful, even with her face blowing up like a balloon. She looks swell, and only Sonny laughs when she says so, which means the joke is really, truly awful. Not even Fredo humours her.
Jack’s furious, but not at her - his father has too many connections within the NYPD for the Sheas to take this lying down, and she’s told that McCluskey’s put on leave while this all is sorted out. He comes to visit her in the hospital and brings a record player, which makes her laugh and makes the nurses scold them both, and he brings her ginger ale because his brother Aaron, the neurosurgeon, told him she’d probably be on a liquid diet so don’t bring her grapes, dummy. She hopes, because she’s the real dummy, that this is proof that their marriage could become something really good. She’d like that.
Later - time moves weird when you can’t eat to track the passing of your day - when they’re all home, Sandra annoys Sonny until he climbs up on a chair and changes the flickering lightbulb in the family room. It’s been that way for months, and Livia’s got enough of a headache that she reaches over to squeeze Sonny’s hand in thanks, when he passes by. He gets embarrassed, the idiot, and almost ruffles her hair. Sandra catches his wrist and spins him into the kitchen, scolding him for going anywhere near her broken jaw, and Livia finds herself smiling - as much as she can.
Pop’s asleep upstairs, and Mama’s clucking around making soup for Livia to drink around the wires in her jaw, and Livia, drowsy with the painkillers they gave her, lets herself slump comfortably under Theresa’s arm on the couch. The kids are all starting to creep in, crowding close around her or curling up on the armchairs to watch her closely, since they’re allowed near her but they’re not allowed near Pop, and she finds Andy Hagan falling asleep against her thigh. He’s got Tom’s big head and Tess’ silky black hair, and he’s one of Livia’s godchildren. How many has she, now? She isn’t sure. People ask her, usually when they’d like to ask Mama but are too intimidated. She always says yes, even if she sometimes feels like she’s borrowing glory.
But Andy’s maybe her favourite, is her point. He’s a real sweetheart.
While she drifts - the kids are all piled in now, and so is Fredo, all snoring and tucked under blankets - she listens to Tom and Theresa and Mama talk quietly. Pop had started buying art last year, and Theresa is the family expert. She studied art history while Livia was studying economics, because Barnard didn’t offer pre-law the way the men’s colleges do. She’s the one who dragged Livia out to museums and galleries, even when they had to bring baby Frank with them in his stroller. She’s been advising Pop on his acquisitions, and Livia knows there’s a bunker somewhere in the city, listed under the name of a company that’s filling up nice and steady with beautiful pieces of Italian art. She likes listening to them talk, likes the way they slip fluidly between English and Italian depending on what they’re trying to say, likes them.
She stirs, kind of, when Sonny starts shouting again - nearby to the front door, she thinks. He’s going to wake Pop, she tries to say, but her fucking jaw is wired shut and she’s halfway asleep so all she can do is grumble and hope they can figure her out.
“Santino!” Mama’s already hissing, leaning out the door. “Santino, get in here!”
Livia tries her best to sit up, trying also not to disturb Andy any more than Sonny already has, and she’s only halfway there when Sonny throws down a huge- throws down-
Flowers. Huge, velvet-looking white lilies, in a crystal vase that smashes across the floor like a rainstorm. The whole room stinks with their scent immediately, and Livia knows without looking who sent them.
“Why the hell is he sending you flowers, huh?” Sonny demands, jabbing his finger right up into her face. “Huh? How come-”
“You think I’m asking for this?” she says, forcing the words out. “Fuck you, Sonny, I’d never-”
“Well then why’s he sending you gifts all the damn time!” Sonny roars, struggling against Tom’s efforts to pull him back.
For the first time in her life, Livia flinches away from him.
“He’s been sending your sister gifts since the day you brought him into our lives, Santino,” Mama says, her voice ice-cold when she comes behind the couch to rest her hands on Livia’s shoulders. “I have refused them here, when he sends them here, and I know she has refused them when she’s in the city for school, too.”
“He was there the night Don Corleone was shot,” Tom says quietly, right by Sonny’s ear. “Jack warned me - says Sollozzo came to that fundraiser for his brother, was hitting on Liv. Said D.W. and that mean little wife of his were the only reason Sollozzo hadn’t done Liv harm.”
“If you had used your damn brain, Santino,” Mama says, not looking away from Sonny even as she presses a hand to each of the kids’ heads while they sneak out around her to join Sandra in the kitchen. “You’d realise what a fuckin’ moron you’re being.”
Sonny’s not struggling against Tom’s hold anymore, but his colour is still high, his eyes still fever-bright. Tom releases him, but shifts so he’s between Livia and Sonny. Having to be protected from Sonny instead of by Sonny is novel, and she doesn’t much like it. In fact, she doesn’t like it at all.
“Do you think,” Tess says, her voice almost as cold as Mama’s, “that Livia would do anything that might bring harm to your father? Livia?”
“Just because she’s Pop’s favourite don’t mean he’s hers,” Sonny says.
Tom grabs Sonny by the jaw, forces him to look right into Tom’s eyes. Sonny, who’s usually the one doing the manhandling, is so surprised he goes still. In fact, they all go very, very still.
“You’re gonna shut your mouth until you put your brain back in, Sonny,” Tom says. “I know Con’s been on your ass, and I know you’re feeling the heat, but you don’t get to take that out on Liv.”
“Get in the kitchen, Sonny,” Mama says. “C’mon, you and me, we’re gonna make something to eat, and you’re gonna yell at me if you gotta yell at someone.”
“Ah, hell, Mama, I ain’t gonna yell at you-!”
Livia looks then, from Tom to Theresa and from Theresa to Tess. Tom’s flushed all up his neck, and usually she’d tease him for that - his pasty Irish skin reveals so much - but now doesn’t feel like the time.
“I know he’s in charge,” Tom grumbles, shaking his head, “but we ain’t changing how we do things as much as that.”
“I’ll speak to Sandy,” Tess says, reaching out to Tom, taking his hand and drawing him closer, so his feet knock against theirs. “If anyone can talk sense into him, it’s her. If.”
Livia wants to go upstairs and see Pop. She wants- she doesn’t know what she wants. She feels flighty and confused, right up until Tess’ arm tightens around her shoulders and Tom reaches down to brush his knuckles over her unbroken jaw.
“Nah,” Tom says. “Nah, we ain’t letting anyone talk to our girl like that, huh?”
“Never,” Tess agrees, and Livia could just about cry with it all.
“What do you think, Tess?” Tom asks, tipping Livia’s face up into the fresh new light while Sonny and Mama bicker just barely out of earshot. “She still the pretty one?”
“The prettiest,” Theresa says, “like any of us ever stood a chance,” and kisses Livia’s face on the unswollen side.
Mama comes back in then, a fresh dishtowel of ice in her hand. She sits down on Livia’s other side, smiling a little when Tom steps back to give her space and light.
“Sonny’ll apologise just as soon as I let him out of the kitchen,” she says wryly. “You need anything else, bella?”
Something in Mama’s eyes, the same dark black eyes Livia sees in the mirror everyday, settles her unruly nerves.
“He won’t take no for an answer, Mama,” she says, ice burning-cold and soothing on her face. “I gotta make him see sense.”
Mama looks at her, closely. Then she tucks Livia’s hair behind her ears, then she stands up, then she sighs.
Mama, thank God and all his angels, understands.
“I’ll call Peter,” she says. “You just leave it with me, bella.”
Pop insists they go, when Johnny Fontaine sends the invites. Livia’s barely left the house the last couple of weeks, and Al’s keeping so close on her tail that he’s clipping her heels every other step, but Pop thinks it’ll do them good to have a night off, so here she is.
Livia’s wearing the same high, high shoes she wore that night at the hospital, because they’re Jack’s favourites and she’s meeting him for a late dinner after Johnny’s show. She’s leaning on Al’s arm, and she’s a little twitchy, but Sandra and Theresa and Connie are here too, and Fredo’s in his element showing them around to their seats, so maybe it’s fine. Maybe she’s just a little antsy for no good reason.
The show is good. She sits back a little, more in Tess’ company than Sandy or Connie’s, and Al sits with them. Fredo stays in the front of their box with Sandy and Connie, hooting and hollering and hanging over the railing, and Livia’s jaw hurts a bit from laughing like this - she hasn’t laughed so much, recently. Her doctor told her she ought to try it, laughing and smiling, because it’ll be good for her jaw now it’s healed. She hadn’t the heart to tell him that she’s never been much of a smiler.
The show is good. The studio’s got Johnny working with a vocal coach, apparently the same one they use over at MGM - so Connie says, anyhow - and it’s made a real difference. Livia’s proud of him, which is dumb to say about a man a decade her senior, but Johnny’s such a dope that she doesn’t feel it’s out of line.
The show is good. They’re left alone in their box throughout, whichever of the guys Al and Fredo stationed outside doing a good, discreet job - Marco, she thinks, and Claudio. Claudio’s a personal recommendation of Clemenza’s, so Livia expects nothing but the best from him, anyhow.
The show is good. Johnny left word that they’re welcome backstage, so once he takes his final bow - and then a second one, after the encore - she once again takes Al’s arm and follows after Fredo and the girls.
They’re right by the stage door - Fredo’s caught the eye of the security guy, who’s apparently been watching out for them - when she hears it.
“Heard my gifts aren’t being welcomed as I’d hoped, Dona Livia.”
To her very great shame, Livia freezes. Just for a second, but she does.
“I have asked you not to call me that, Mr. Sollozzo,” she says cooly, not even turning her head. “And I have to say - if you expected a different welcome for your gifts, then you sent them to the wrong person.”
A big, thick-fingered hand wraps suddenly around her arm.
“You listen to me, you little bitch,” he snarls. “There’s only one way all of this is ending, and that’s with your old man in the grave and you on your fuckin’ back-”
The sound of a gun cocking is not very loud, not with all the hubbub of people, but for a second it’s all Livia can hear. Surely he’s not- he can’t-
He isn’t.
“You’ve been upsetting my sister a lot, from what I hear,” Fredo says, his face all determined and clammy. “I don’t like to hear that, I gotta tell you.”
He has a gun pressed right against Sollozzo’s gut. Livia’s not sure she’s ever seen Fredo draw his weapon before. She knows he’d drawn it and not gotten a shot off, when Pop was shot. She knows he’s been trying to figure out a way to make that right, even though Pop would never, ever blame him for it.
Sollozzo laughs. Livia wants to tear his throat out with her teeth.
“Put that away, kid,” he scoffs, and seems genuinely surprised when Fredo instead steps closer.
“I’m a coward,” Fredo says. “I’m a no-good, spineless piece of shit, and I know it - but you’re upsetting my sister, Turk, and that’s the one thing I ain’t gonna stand for.”
Fredo was a delicate kid, always. He was sick as hell as a baby, lucky to have survived, and yeah, Pop and Mama maybe never pushed him so much as they did her and Sonny because of it. Livia’s ten-and-a-half months younger than him, and when they were kids, because he was a little small and she was always tall, they looked so alike most everyone thought they were twins. She hasn’t been able to see it in years, but now? When he looks like he wants to tear Sollozzo’s throat out with his teeth?
Yeah. They’re alike, alright. He’s got Mama’s eyes, too.
Sollozzo takes his hand off Livia’s arm, one fat finger at a time. He backs away from Fredo, all careful, cautious, and spins on his heel the second there’s civilians between them.
“I gotta talk to Clemenza,” Fredo says, winding his arm around Livia and drawing her close. Is she crying? She doesn’t think so, but she kind of feels like she is. “Get his advice on how we’re gonna do this.”
Yeah, she’s crying. She hasn’t done that in public since maybe Uncle Genco’s funeral.
Fredo still has his gun in his hand. It’s bigger than the one Uncle Pete’s been training Livia with, since her jaw got broke.
The plan for the run up to the meeting is this:
1: Nobody’s telling Pop a thing until the deed is done. He’s all for putting Sollozzo down like the rabid dog he’s turning into, and he didn’t object when Sonny ranted about putting a bullet in McCluskey for laying hands on Livia. However, they all know he’d go nuts if he thought they were putting a gun in Livia’s hands. So nobody’s telling Pop anything, and that’s Mama’s final word on the subject.
2: Sonny can’t come into the city. Sonny’s gonna stay on Long Island and he’s going to stay out of Livia’s way. She’s not going to be able to focus on what needs doing if she has to worry about Sonny busting in any moment and beating someone and ruining everything.
2 (B): Fredo can’t be let near the scene either, because Livia told Mama about the confrontation at Johnny’s show and Mama said “Well yeah, Livia, he’s always been crazy about you and Con.”
3: Al Neri will walk her to the door. Al Neri will take her coat and her purse at the door. Al Neri will ensure no one gets the jump on her, because Al Neri will beat Sollozzo and McCluskey to death barehanded before he lets them hurt her. Al Neri will rush in to protect her just as soon as she starts screaming about how they were going to rape her, and he will remain with her, and he will prevent any of the inevitable cops from laying a finger on her.
4: Connie can’t be told because she’s got a big mouth and she’ll tell Carlo, who Livia fucking hates and who neither Livia nor Tom trust.
5: Fucking stop letting Fredo near Pop and Connie, else everyone will know what’s going on.
Here’s the plan for the evening of:
1: Al will escort Livia right to the door, and he’ll object as loudly as necessary about McCluskey trying to search her too thoroughly. As a mark of good faith, he’ll take her purse (too small for a gun anyway) and her coat (the dark green one Sollozzo complimented in one of his many, many love notes), and he’ll stand under the awning at the door instead of at her shoulder at the table. This will prevent McCluskey finding the gun tucked into her garter, under her skirt.
2: She will play it meek, like she’s afraid of Sollozzo’s attentions instead of disgusted by them. Livia’s not very good at meek, so Mama worked on that with her just as much as Clemenza worked on her aim.
3: She will allow him to order for her, and be grateful for whatever fuckin’ oysters or shit he puts in front of her. It probably will be oysters, she tells Sonny, because they’re aphrodisiacs, and she laughs when he turns green.
4: She will excuse herself to the bathroom to consider his proposal when he suggests she become his mistress as an apology for refusing his gifts, and to encourage him to think more kindly toward Pop. This seems a fair guess for what he’s going to say, given the string of rancid notes she’s received in the past couple weeks. When she’s in the bathroom, she will remove the gun from her garter, and she will return to the dining room, and when Sollozzo stands up to pull out her chair she’ll shoot McCluskey and then shoot him.
5: Livia will then drop to her knees, screaming and wailing, and Al will push through the doors and cover her with her dark green coat, and make sure McCluskey and Sollozzo are dead. He will also reassure the waiter and the chef and any other staff members in the restaurant that Don Corleone and his family are very grateful for their support of his beloved daughter on such a trying occasion.
And then, the aftermath:
1: Livia, a Columbia-educated lawyer and a stone-cold shark in her own right, will coolly dismiss the cops who are questioning her when she is brought to the police station, and Tom will meet her there.
1: Tom will meet Livia at the police station, bringing Mama to comfort her. Livia will be so overwrought that she cannot even speak, and Tom will rage at the cops who are questioning her for their mistreatment of her while Mama gathers her close and strokes her hair.
2: Jack will then arrive, horrified at the situation Livia’s family have put her in, horrified that they knew Sollozzo had been harassing her long-term and that no one had mentioned it to him, because they’re not the only ones with resources. Jack will then arrive and offer to bring her to D.W. and Atty’s house, because she’ll be safer there and he knows better than to bring her to his own place. Livia has never before doubted that the safest place in the world is her father’s house. She considers it and ultimately declines, but she appreciates Jack’s offer.
3: The newspapers will of course get ahold of it all, and Saint Rosemary will sit Livia down and coach her through the kind of interview the Sheas need her to give. Livia gives the kind of interview the Sheas want her to give, and she starts volunteering with Jack’s sister Cathy at the Little Sisters of the Assumption on Lexington. It’s all about what D.W. calls optics.
4: Sonny will go to war. Livia, who is set to become Mrs. John Oscar Shea by the end of the summer, cannot know any more than that.
5: Livia will quite literally get away with murder. Somehow, this will improve relations with her mother-in-law.