Dead Dog in the Still of the Night by Archimede Fusillo Page B

fingers. He pursed his lips. ‘This travelling about all over the place really makes these family get-togethers difficult, doesn’t it?’ he said and brushed at something on the sleeve of his expensive leather jacket. He cocked his head at Primo.
    ‘You like this?’ he asked. ‘Guy I got it off reckons it’s from Florence. That’s in Italy by the way,’ he said, offering up his left arm for Primo to touch. Primo turned toward the hallway. ‘Where you going, little brother?’
    ‘Got to get some homework done before the footy starts,’ Primo said over his shoulder.
    ‘Homework on a Saturday night?’ Santo looked at Adrian and smirked. ‘Since when does a teenager do homework on a Saturday night?’ Then to Primo, ‘I’m surprised to find you at home at all, mate. Didn’t you just get your licence? When I was your age there was no way you’d of found me at home with the oldies on a Saturday night. Not even Ad here was ever home on a Saturday night, I reckon.’
    Primo clenched his jaw. Santo was always looking for ways to show how much more he’d done, how much better he’d been at the same age compared to his brothers.
    ‘That’s probably true,’ Primo replied soberly, turning to face Santo. ‘But you never got past Year 10, mate, so there wouldn’t of been too much homework for you at my age. Unless, back then, the dole had a homework component.’
    Primo saw Adrian flinch. Santo always had that effect on Adrian. It was as though Adrian feared Santo might think less of him if he didn’t agree with everything their eldest brother did or said. Pathetic.
    ‘ Touché , my little man,’ Santo shot back, his eyes tight slits. He looked at Adrian. ‘You could take a bit of Primo’s attitude and show some backbone to that woman causing you grief.’
    ‘She won’t be bothering me anymore,’ Adrian said in a rush. ‘She’s come to her senses. Right, Primo?’
    Now it was Primo who flinched. What was Adrian thinking?
    Primo stared at Adrian and shook his head almost imperceptibly.
    The three brothers looked at one another awkwardly, then Santo sat up straight-backed in sudden realisation.
    ‘So? You both just going to stand there like two sooky-eyed girls, or is one of you going to fill me in?’ Santo was leaning forward now, hands clasped between his knees, feet firmly on the floor. ‘She’s been taken care of? How?’ He cocked his head again, the smile disappearing. ‘What did you morons do?’
    The question hung in the air a few seconds too long, bringing Santo to his feet.
    Primo walked into the hallway.
    ‘Adrian?’ he heard Santo say at his back. ‘What the hell have you done?’
    Dinner was late. Primo heard his mother arrive at the back door with their father, and give a whoop of delight at finding Santo waiting for her.
    ‘Adrian, why didn’t you bring Beth here for dinner?’ she asked when they were all at the table.
    ‘Stella arranged to have a few of Beth’s friends to the house for a sleepover.’
    ‘Not “the house”, Adrian,’ his mother corrected him. ‘Your home. Yours and Stella’s home.’
    Adrian made a muted sound of understanding and changed the subject to his meeting with the parish priest, and how they had decided Stella needed to meet with them to nut out a compromise so he could move back home.
    ‘Be man enough to just walk back in, Adrian. It’s what I would’ve done in your place.’ Santo emphasised his point by slapping the table. ‘Maybe you should talk to her, Mum? She’s still a kid, yeah?’ He looked across at Adrian, and asked, ‘She twenty yet, Ad?’
    Primo kept his eyes lowered. Sure, he wanted to say, Mum can offer Stella advice about how to turn the other cheek and pretend like it’s all someone else’s fault.
    ‘Twenty-five soon actually,’ Adrian finally answered.
    ‘Sorry, I forgot,’ Santo said, smiling maliciously. ‘She’s the older woman. That’s why she hassled you into getting hitched, Ad. So she wouldn’t be left on