Work Text:
“I thought you had a goomah, the one with the eye,” Silvio wondered why Paulie had brought his mother as his guest.
“My ma likes weddings!” Paulie gestured at her enjoying herself. He looked back at Silvio. “How much money you give?”
“Why you wanna know?” Silvio narrowed his eyes.
“I didn’t give ‘em mine yet.” Paulie pulled the envelope from his pocket.
Silvio looked him up and down. “…250.”
Paulie raised his eyebrows. “I gotta take a piss.” He walked away to get more money.
Mary and Hugh sat together at a table. She looked around the room, taking in the sights surrounding them. “I can’t believe this is what our daughter marries into…”
“Oh.” Hugh scoffed. “You liked Dickie, he was no different.”
“I did like him, but look what happened to him.” She looked across at Carmela. “She could be a widow by 30.”
“Don’t talk like that around–” Hugh looked at the chair Christopher was supposed to be sat at and realized he was gone.
“Where’s Christopher?” Mary looked panicked.
“I don’t know.” Hugh shrugged, glancing around.
“Wonderful, Hugh,” she immediately blamed him. “You lost your own nephew.”
“He’s your nephew too.”
“By marriage.” Mary gestured for him to get up to be the one to find him.
Across the room, Carmela leaned into Tony to whisper. “Tony, why is it that half the women in here are wearing the same pair of shoes?”
Tony shrugged and avoided looking at her. “Musta been a sale on.”
“Either that… or they fell off the back of a truck.”
“Probably a sale.” Tony shrugged again.
She shook her head to herself. “Here, drink this before anyone sees.” She handed him her champagne.
He turned around and drank it quickly, then handed the glass back to her. “I can’t keep doing this all night, Carmela. I’d wind up in the hospital.”
“Stop drinking so much scotch then.”
“What, and have everyone think I’m some pussy who don’t drink at his own wedding?”
“It’s either that or I drink my own champagne and this baby comes out deformed,” she whispered even quieter. “Do you want that, Tony? Do you want a deformed baby?”
“Jesus Christ, will you take it easy? Having some drinks isn’t gonna make him come out with two heads,” Tony automatically assumed it was a boy.
“I am not risking our–”
“Jackie,” he quickly whispered for her to stop talking.
“Look at you!” Jackie gestured at how beautiful Carmela looked. “You look like you stepped straight out a movie.” He looked at Tony. “You… not so much.”
“Go fuck yourself.” Tony chuckled.
“You look beautiful, baby.” Rosalie hugged Carmela for the fifth time today.
“Ton, you got a minute?” Jackie gestured for them to go elsewhere.
“How far along are you?” Rosalie whispered in Carmela’s ear.
“You know?” Carmela whispered back.
Rosalie pulled away from the hug but stayed close enough for nobody to hear. “You think I don’t notice when my own best friend got a bun in the oven?”
Carmela laughed and then put a hand on her mouth to stop herself. “I haven’t told anybody yet.”
“Tony knows, don’t he?” Rosalie raised her eyebrows.
“Besides Tony.”
“Not even your mother?”
“I was waiting til after the wedding…”
Rosalie looked thoughtful. “You think she just thinks you got fat?”
“You think I look fat?!” Carmela looked down at herself.
“No, honey. No.” Rosalie chuckled, trying to backpedal. “If you’re fat, I’m fuckin’ ginormous.” She gestured down at her own pregnancy. “You know if it’s a girl?”
“Not yet.”
“It better be.” Rosalie drank her own champagne, a cigarette in her other hand.
“The aboost…” Jackie gestured awkwardly as he spoke to Tony. “It’s not much.”
“You don’t gotta worry bout it.” Tony put a hand on his shoulder.
“After little Jackie rode his tricycle into that glass door…” Jackie tried to justify it regardless. “I got medical bills coming out the–”
“Jackie, you’re my best friend. You could put a piece of shit in that envelope and I’d thank you.”
“You’re a good man, Ton.” Jackie hugged him and patted him on the back. The hug ended. “How’s your father?”
“The emphysema…” Tony shook his head. “Couldn’t even make it here today.”
“Man like Johnny Boy, he’ll live forever.”
Tony B stood against the coatroom door smoking a cigarette. He smiled at one of Carmela’s elderly relatives as they walked past.
“Tony, come on!” Christopher spoke from inside the closet.
Tony B slammed all his weight backwards into the door to stop Christopher from opening it. “Will you shut the fuck up? There’s people here.”
“Why you even doing this to me?!”
Tony B paused to think about why he’d even shoved him in there. He had no fucking idea. “For fun, I guess.”
“It ain’t fun for me!”
He saw Hugh walking around talking to people, looking worried. Hugh was getting closer and closer to the hallway they were in. “…Who’d you come here with?”
“Why?”
“I’ll let you out if you tell me.”
“Uncle Hugh.”
Tony B put his cigarette out and quickly opened the closet door. “Come on, get out.” He rushed him.
The suddenness left Christopher confused.
“Jesus Christ. I thought you wanted to get out.” He practically dragged Christopher out the coatroom when he took too long.
“Get off me!”
“Hugh!” Tony B yelled and pointed down at Christopher. “I found him!”
Hugh looked relieved and came over. “Where did you run off to? You downright gave me a heart attack.”
“Tony–”
“I found him outside tryna escape,” Tony B came up with the stupidest lie he could. “He was halfway over the wall when I found him.”
“Escape?” Hugh furrowed his brow. “I thought you wanted to come here?”
“It wasn’t–”
“He’s an enigma, our Chrissy.” Tony B ruffled his hair like he was still a little kid. “Congratulations, Hugh.” He walked away.
“Never do that again, Christopher.” Hugh scoldingly pointed at him. “What would your mother do if we lost you?”
“She wouldn’t notice!”
At a table, Junior was sat watching everyone walk past. Taking notice of their shoes… “Anthony!” he yelled towards him. “Get over here!”
“What does he want?” Carmela rolled her eyes.
“I a mind reader now?” Tony pointed at himself and then walked over to Junior. “What?”
“I don’t read no fashion magazines, but I’m starting to notice a trend with a lot of the broads in here.” Junior raised his eyebrows.
“I didn’t have you down for a fanook, Uncle Jun.”
Junior lowered his eyebrows. “There’s no fanook here. But there are 50 fuckin’ pairs of the same pair of shoes!” he yelled so loudly that the rest of the table went silent.
“Take it easy.” Tony gestured for him to get up and join him. “Sorry everybody,” he said to the table.
Junior looked at everyone awkwardly as he got up. He joined Tony and they walked away. “Remind me, Anthony. Who’s capo here?”
“You.”
“That’s right, me. So tell me why everybody’s wives wearing the same pair of shoes and I didn’t get a cut.”
“You don’t got a wife.”
“I’m not fucking around here, Anthony.” Junior looked very stern.
“…We’ll kick up your cut.”
“When?”
“Jesus Christ, Uncle Jun. It’s my wedding day, can’t we deal with this in a few days?”
“No.” Junior was completely unabashed.
“Tomorrow. I’ll get Jackie to deal with it.”
Junior eyes darted around, tentative to believe he’d won. “If I find out you left out so much as a–”
“You’re not gonna get fucked over. You gotta trust me here, we’re family.”
“Family…” Junior muttered. “What kinda nephew don’t give his own uncle his cut in the first place?”
“The same kinda nephew who took the heat for him last year bout that Rolex situation,” Tony played a checkmate.
Junior grumbled, a smirk slowly forming. “Look at you.” He lightly tugged on Tony’s shirt collar. “You look like a real man! I still think of you as that little kid I played catch with all them times.”
“You gotta move on from the catch thing, Uncle Jun,” Tony was getting irritated by how often he mentioned it. “But, yeah, I think of you like that too. My big uncle with the shiny head.”
“Hey!” Junior pointed at him jokingly. “You take after me, you’ll have a shiny head soon too, kid.” He looked at Tony and smiled. He wanted to hug him, say he loved him, but he just couldn’t get himself to do it. “I’m proud of you, son.”
“Thank you.” Tony patted him on the shoulder before Junior walked away. He felt sentimental, not something he felt often. It felt good. He saw his mother coming his way. “Jesus fuckin’ Christ. I can’t have nothing.”