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Never has a warm summer night, air thick with the scents of sun-fed grapes, felt so fermented in poison, they think--seperate, but as one.
Logan never comes back inside. So eventually Kendall guides Roman up from his place on the floor, and Siobhan ekes out from beneath the stifling support of Tom’s hands, and the three of them file back into their waiting car.
Tom comes with. Any attempt at discussion is muted by this intrusion, and anyways, Roman’s not in good enough shape to talk. Ironically, Shiv thinks Kendall seems more stable than he has since they’ve been here in Tuscany--but it’s an unfamiliar look on him, frattish bravado wiped away to reveal a grim set in his brow, so she’s not totally confident in the thought. Kendall has been a stranger all day: first waifish and weak on return from the hospital, hiding himself in a little wreath of tobacco smoke beneath a lemon tree at the reception. Then--Shiv would like to believe she can’t bring herself to think of the horror of Kendall’s confession to them, back by the kitchen dumpsters, but the fact is she doesn’t care , and from a political standpoint she knows she should be sickened by her own… what is it, even? An utter disregard for human life in the face of her brother’s tears? No Real Person Involved. She can’t get into this. Can’t unpack the ways this company’s evils have rooted in her from the day she was born, probably.
Kendall beat her to this, she realizes. Sanctimonious son of a bitch; now his rot of knowledge is spreading through Eden.
The car takes them to Dimora Buonriposo first, to drop Kendall off, and the vehicle hasn’t even stopped moving before Shiv feels a deep wrongness lurch in her stomach. She looks to Roman in search of silent validation and sees the same--if not more severe--panic on his sallow face, eyes flicking between the tinted glass and their elder brother, unreadable.
“Okay,” Kendall whispers when the car crunches to a stop over floodlit sandstone. He unbuckles his seatbelt, then looks meaningfully at his siblings (Tom may as well not even be present; despite the torrent of emotions Shiv’s currently feeling at the sight of him, she is distantly grateful for his delicate silence). “Guys, quick--pow-wow? Hop out for a sec?”
Shiv and Roman rush to unbuckle their seatbelts and follow their brother in clambering out of the car. The driver leaves the door open for them, but Shiv gives her head a quick shake, gesturing for him to close it. Kendall and Roman may not know why--and Shiv isn’t sure when she’ll tell them--but Tom is no longer welcome in this contingency discussion.
Kendall is turned away, gazing up the drive at the villa.
“Kids back yet, you think?” Shiv asks gently, avoiding the more pressing matter of yet.
“No, I… Comfrey’ll bring them back from the reception. Texted earlier.” Slowly, he looks back at them, eyes darkened by a shadow of what Shiv can only place as grief but soft with a fraternal care that makes her ache. “We still have moves here. Okay?” He looks pointedly at Roman, whose eyes are fixed down on the sandstone beneath their shoes.
Shiv massages the back of her neck. “Yeah.” She can’t even convince herself.
Kendall looks at her, then turns away, running a quick hand over the shaven crown of his head. “Yeah. Well.” He takes a step away, and Shiv feels her arm moving involuntarily to grab at Roman’s sleeve. “I’ll come by La Foce in the morning. We’ll loop Connor in. Talk options.” This is as much a goodnight as he can bid, it seems, because he turns to go.
And walks, and stops, and waits.
Roman is watching now. Shiv’s grip on his arm tightens. She opens her mouth to call to him, but Kendall beats her to it, half turning back to them over a shoulder.
“I can’t--” he starts. “I don’t know if I should…”
Shiv clears her throat. Her heart is lurching forward in her chest. “Ken?”
He shakes his head.
“I don’t think I can be,” he takes a shuddering inhale, and utters his next word as a question: “alone? Like, I feel like I might--”
“Yeah,” Shiv exhales, belatedly realizing her breath has up to now been held in an iron vice. “Yes. Okay.” She turns to the driver and nods towards the door, and she releases Roman, finding him hanging stuck in place like a skipped record. First, this. The driver opens the door for her and she leans in to address Tom, forcing herself to look him in the eye. “Tom?”
“Yeah. Everything okay out there?”
“They’re gonna take you back to La Foce, okay?”
“What? Wait, wha--where are you going?”
“Yeah, um. Rome and I are staying here tonight. With Ken. Yeah? I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“With Ken, for--?” But Shiv is already pulling back out of the car door and indicating for the driver to shut it again, and she fights to swallow the blaze of rage at Tom’s demeanor, his-- everything , right now. Kendall. Kendall. She jogs stiltedly back to him on wobbly platforms, catching Roman with a hand between his shoulders on the way.
“C’mon, Ro,” she whispers.
“Uh-huh.” And he lurches into motion, the two of them drawn back into their brother’s orbit so easily. At his side, Shiv clasps her free hand on Ken’s shoulder, and he reaches up to take it in his own, draw it close to his heart. An echo of another moment’s shared wavelength, so long ago. Context clicks into place, suddenly, and Shiv tightens her grip.
“Okay. C’mon.”
Her brothers nod obediently, and she guides them, a hand on each of their forearms, up to the front entryway. Kendall is reticent but yields to leading the way when it comes time to unlock the front door and light the villa’s darkened halls. Warm dens beckon, half a dozen open bedrooms, but Kendall doesn’t even put forth the options; Roman and Shiv dutifully follow to his personal suite, entering as soon as he opens the door and nods them in.
Roman sits on the side of Kendall’s bed, shoulders heavy, and then collapses onto his back.
Shiv pulls off her shoes, watching while Kendall shuffles to Roman and nudges him over, muttering “make room” and then laying back into the pillows, still dressed and dusty all over the clean white sheets and hiding his eyes beneath a forearm. Shiv sits on the bedspread on his other side, and there they all are, lined up and looking like fools in varying states of despair over it all. Absentminded, Shiv brushes a hand over the bristly top of Kendall’s head, and he sighs, visibly sinking a little deeper into himself at the touch.
“I’m sorry about your wedding.” Kendall’s voice is a raspy murmur, but bell-clear. “I don’t know if you heard, earlier. When I said that.”
You couldn’t fuck up what was already broken , she wants to say. But she doesn’t know, after all. These suspicions against Tom are still only that. But she saw --that touch between he and her father; what else could that have been?
“It’s nothing, Ken,” is all she says instead. “It’s… it’s nothing.” Part truth, part anything but. A whole life, pinched out like a match with its head underwater. But as far as she can fathom, dying is so much easier than being left behind to chase after the watery grave that dodged you. She grits her teeth, remembering just last night hearing that there’d been an incident : Kendall, facedown in the pool. Suddenly very aware of its presence, Shiv turns to look out the window at the artificial glow of it, underwater lights on timers. Brilliant cyan that dissipates into the shadows of the Tuscan hills, rows and rows of grapevines all tangled up on their trellises and cylindrical bales of wheat, sentinels. Luxury and agriculture and virginal nature and in the middle of it her brother, with lungs full of water. She pulls her lips between her teeth.
“Was that really what that was, yesterday?” Her voice is not as firm as she likes it to be, but fingertips dug in to the skin of his scalp, punishing, make up the difference. “Were you trying to kill yourself? Actually?”
Kendall’s eyes stay shut, but his brows briefly pinch together in a pained furrow. “I wasn’t actively trying to not kill myself,” he says.
“You’re a fucking--selfish asshole.”
“Yeah. I am.”
Shiv shuffles down the bed and lays on her side, facing him. She presses her forehead firmly against his shoulder and hears the rustle of his head turning against the pillows to look down at her. She breathes in deep, then out, only now feeling her heart still after at least three hours of racing fervor.
It’s Roman’s voice that breaks the silence.
“Does he not love us?”
Shiv and Kendall are silent for a moment, maybe reeling at their brother’s reemergence from his trancelike state of the evening thus far, maybe at the question, the innocence of it, the stupidity of it. Bitterly, Shiv scoffs.
“As much as one can love--fucking, dogs, maybe,” she says, but Kendall is quick to interject.
“He does, Rome,” he says sternly. “But the thing is, to him, that’s not enough. Loving us isn’t enough to justify choosing us over--the empire, the company. It never has been.”
Roman takes a breath that audibly shakes, and Shiv reaches across Kendall’s body to touch Roman’s shoulder.
“It should be enough,” Roman whispers. “It should… be the only thing that’s enough.”
“Uh-huh,” Shiv quietly agrees, and she sees Kendall nod in her periphery, too.
Their older brother shuffles down beneath Shiv’s arm, tugging the pillow under his head and then fiddling with the ones behind Shiv and Roman, prodding them to lift their heads and lower them again when the pillows are in place. Then he turns onto his side, back to Shiv, and wraps an arm around Roman’s front to pull his back flush against his chest. Shiv replaces her forehead on Kendall’s back this time, and they lie like a horizontal stack of silver spoons, nested and comforting each other in the childish way only a troupe of stupid kids can. And Shiv feels stupid, alright--lofty and ambitious and distractable and way, way too devoted to a paternal reliability she now recalls does not exist, has never existed.
“You can say I told you so, Ken,” she murmurs.
Kendall lets out a chuckle at that. “I’m not going to do that.”
“But you are going to lord it over us for the rest of our natural lives,” Roman tentatively rejoins.
“Well. Obviously I am gonna do that , yeah.”
The three of them laugh, just a little. It feels good. Shiv lopes an arm over Kendall again, gets a hand on Roman’s shoulder, tightens the whole grip of the limb. The room smells like human and it’s both foreign and familiar and it’s them , she realizes, the Roys, the melding of cologne and perfume and deodorant and sweat and is it gross that she wants to cry a little bit over how nice it is to be wrapped up in it after this long?
They hear a car pull up outside, crunching over gravel.
“Comfrey and the kids,” Kendall mutters.
The front door opens; Shiv can hear her neice and nephew’s voices, bubbly over past-bedtime festivity, and Comfrey’s, wishing them goodnight and commanding they get to bed with the light heart of a non-carer suddenly saddled with children. Feet pad down the hall and pause, then there’s a knock on Kendall’s door.
“Dad?” That’s Sophie. “Can we come say goodnight?”
Drawing himself up from the embrace of his siblings, Kendall calls back, “yeah, sweetie. Come on in.”
Shiv and Roman half right themselves as the door opens and Sophie and Iverson tentatively poke their heads in, blinking in surprise at the sight of their aunt and uncle. They’re still dressed in their wedding clothes, but half-undone—Iverson’s tie is loose over his shoulders, Sophie’s flats are in her hand.
“Hi, Uncle Roman. Aunt Shiv,” Sophie says.
“Hey, guys,” Shiv replies.
Roman offers a casual, “yo.”
“What are you doing here?” Iverson asks.
Kendall gives them a sort of sad, sheepish smile. “Shiv and Rome were… a little worried about your old dad here, after yesterday.”
The kids look awkward, nodding.
“Oh. Yeah,” Sophie murmurs. Kendall opens his arms, and Sophie stiffly falls into them, letting Kendall hug her and humming thoughtfully when Shiv reaches out to brush a hand through her hair.
Iverson hangs back, hesitant. “Are you and Grandpa still fighting?”
Roman barks out a laugh, and Kendall shoots him a glare over Sophie’s shoulder. He lets Sophie go, reaches out to run a hand down Iverson’s arm. “Little bit, yeah,” he admits; Shiv is surprised by the honesty. “Things might get… weird, for us--for Aunt Shiv and Uncle Rome and me. It’s boring. Business--adult stuff.” Kendall grips Iverson’s shoulder and pulls him closer to plant a kiss in his hairline, then does the same to Sophie. “I don’t want you worrying about it. Okay?”
The kids nod. They bid Shiv and Roman and their father goodnight and shuffle out, shutting the suite door with a soft click. Kendall lets out a long sigh and leans to rest his face in a hand, expression briefly twisted in pain.
“I don’t… have a good feeling, about…” Kendall sort of jerks his head towards the door after his children.
Shiv puts her hand on his back and rubs gentle circles into the fabric of his shirt. “About what?”
Kendall shakes his head. “When Rava hears what happened yesterday. Whatever comes next. I feel like whatever’s still between us is--is fraying.”
Roman sits in a sheepish hunch on Kendall’s other side, but he’s watching his brother’s face, chewing the inside of his cheek. “How fucked up were you?”
“Not. I mean, I’d had--a beer, maybe. A beer point five.” Kendall exhales a shaky chuckle. “I haven’t used since I’ve been here. Since my birthday, I don’t think.”
“So, what, you just… fucking--” Roman swishes his words around. “Fell asleep? Stone-cold sober, plop , into the fuckin’ pool?”
“Comfy floatie,” Shiv mutters.
Kendall brushes his hand back over his head, and Shiv’s surprised to see his eyes are dry, crybaby that he is.
“Well, there’s that,” Roman mutters. “If she didn’t cut you off from ‘em entirely after iPad coke, a little… innocent drowning incident’s probably not gonna ruffle Rava’s feathers too fucking bad.”
And as convincing as Roman has managed to make himself sound, none of them are sold--for a few moments, there is only mournful silence.
“I think what I find the most worrying is that I’m grateful for the excuse to pull away from them. Not that I don’t love them, I— because I love them, the idea of doing to them what Dad did to us, I can’t handle that. The possibility of it. I don’t even know if I should--if we should stay in New York,” Kendall murmurs. “For now.”
“What?” Roman’s brows furrow.
Kendall shakes his head, clears his throat. “Physically, mentally; whatever ends up happening, whatever we decide to do--we need our own territory. We can’t risk crossing paths with--” He settles back against the pillows again. “I’m sorry. I keep saying we. I don’t--none of us have any fucking idea what comes after this, so…”
Shiv and Roman share a look, and Shiv looks back up at their elder brother, the aged sunkenness to a face far too young for such affect. Her heart and throat tighten with renewed fury at their situation.
“It is we,” Shiv tells him firmly, ducking close to catch his eyes. “Whatever happens. Whatever that means.”
“It better be fucking we; I feel like I’ve just been fucking orphaned,” Roman mutters.
A tear runs down Kendall’s cheek, and he wipes it away with the heel of his palm.
“You need sleep, Ken,” Shiv whispers. “We all do.”
“I love you guys. I never say that. I don’t remember the last time I said that.”
“Hey…” Shiv bites back the awkwardness.
“If I never say it again, just… if I forget to ever say it again--”
“Ken, shut up,” Roman snaps. He leans in close and presses his forehead into the space between Kendall’s chin and shoulder, grips the fabric of the back of Kendall’s collar in white knuckles. “Shut up. Shut up.”
“Sorry,” Kendall whispers, wiping his eyes again. He throws his arm around Roman’s shoulders and presses their temples together; then mirrors the gesture for Shiv, bringing them all into proximity, skulls pressed together in a trinity. “I just missed you.”
“Yeah,” Shiv murmurs back. The words come out warm in the closeness of their breaths. “Yeah, us too.”
When they fall back, it is as one, arms tangled together and ankles strung out and overlapping, eyes shut and sighs synchronized.
“I feel… steady, now,” Kendall eventually murmurs. “There are a few suites you two could take.”
“We’re staying here,” Shiv assures him bluntly. “Now stop talking.”
There is a pause, and then Kendall shifts, an antsy little wriggle. “Wait. Wait, like right now, sleep? I’ve got fucking--dirt all over my clothes, still.”
“Shut up, Ken,” Shiv mumbles again, pretending to sound less conscious than she is.
“We’re not even under the blankets. I have to brush my teeth. And, like, pee.” Kendall’s voice is beginning to lilt with warmth as he realizes the joke that’s being played on him.
“ Shhh, ” Roman hushes him. “Only dreams now, Kenny.”
Really laughing now, Kendall thrashes beneath his siblings’ arms, and Shiv and Roman tighten their holds against his torso, locking his arms by his sides. “Guys, c’mon.”
“Bedtime, big brother.”
“If either of you fuckheads kick me or fart, I’m blowing this whole fucking place up with all of us inside,” Roman says, singsong.
Shiv chimes in: “I’ve been farting this entire time.”
“ Get--off--me!” Kendall wails in mock despair, kicking his feet against the mattress like a child throwing a temper tantrum.
“It’s no good, Shiv; we’re gonna have to smother him,” Roman says. “Hold him down. I’ll get a pillow.” He snatches one where it rests against the headboard and slaps it over Kendall’s laughing mouth. Kendall uses his younger siblings’ weakened grips to roll out from underneath and get Roman in a headlock, dragging him back down to the mattress by the neck, held against Kendall’s chest. Unable to stifle squeals of delighted laughter, Shiv tumbles out of the way, straddling the edge of the bed and watching, thrilled, as Kendall instructs Roman to “say uncle, bitch.”
“Never!” Roman yowls back. One of Kendall’s hands lands a well-practiced pinch into the soft inlet of Roman’s waist, immediately making the younger buckle. “No fucking tickling, Ken; don’t be a child!”
“Uncle or you’re getting fucking tickled.”
“I hate you!” Roman thrashes. “Uncle! Dirty fucking--cheating son of a bitch.” He shoots a furious glare to Shiv. “No thanks to you, either. I thought we were supposed to be a united fucking front.”
Shiv throws up her hands. “I plead Switzerland on this one; sorry, Ro.”
“Switzerland. Whatever. Stupid country,” Roman mutters, making a meager effort to smooth his tousled clothes. “Maybe Dad was right; maybe we are morons.”
Shiv and Kendall’s smiles wilt. “C’mon, Rome,” Shiv murmurs.
Roman scratches the back of his neck. “Yeah. No. Sorry. Too soon.”
Kendall reaches out to ruffle his younger brother’s hair, lightening the mood once more. “Maybe we are. But we’re here, and he’s off paying Kerry to suck his dick and call us rats behind our backs. 75 percent of his kids thrown out to sea without a lifeboat.”
“Connor, playing the long game,” Shiv jokes grimly.
“You don’t think he’d--?”
“He has more to gain in the sale than he would betting on us,” Kendall shrugs. “We could try playing him off Dad, bring up the whole… three-odd years of neglect thing, but. I dunno. To some extent, he probably sees that as our fault as much as it was Dad’s.”
They’re quiet for a moment, breaths settling.
“Well, I did say I think we would make a good team, and you both know damn well I didn’t mean him, too,” Roman eventually snips.
“Not like it’d ever have been him even if he’d wanted it.” Shiv looks at her brothers, willing intensity into her stare. “We could find a way to make it us , not one of us. Three crowns.”
It’s Roman who breaks eye contact first. “Alright, fuckin’--George R.R. Martin. Can we go to sleep now? Are you two gonna behave yourselves, or am I gonna have to separate us like Dad did when he sent us all to Crete on separate jets?”
“God. Asshole,” Shiv hisses. “How do you think it feels to grow up with a parent who doesn’t hate the sight of kids getting along more than he hates them fighting?”
Kendall and Roman just shrug.
Shiv looks down at her hands in her lap, brow further furrowing. “Was that what all this has ever been about? Turning us against each other so we forget who the--”
“Who the real enemy is?” Kendall suggests softly.
“That is what I was going to say, but then I realized how fucking stupid it sounded. But yeah.” In spite of herself, Shiv lets out an exhale of laughter. “Is there a world where we ever really get out from under that?”
“Of course there is. Y--yes. Duh. Of course.” Roman is at first assured, and then looking between his siblings in something like panic. “Right?”
There’s a sad fatalism in Kendall’s hundred yard stare, and Shiv has to push a wave of sorrow down from where it sits in the back of her throat.
“There’s this world,” Kendall murmurs, “where we try.”
That is the lingering, bitter poison that hangs over them as they ready, haphazard, for bed, and eventually climb under the covers beside one another in the dark. The most powerful family in the world, drawn close in the night like frightened children and suffocating, helpless, under the weight of the race they were born itching to win.