A Beginner's Guide to Gold Digging: Chapter 19

A Beginner’s Guide to Famiglia

Lily

The drive back was nice. Beautiful weather, light traffic, Audioslave blaring out my speakers, a handsome raven-haired hunk in the passenger’s seat singing along. We were prepared to face the music when we got to Winfield Manor, but we had one stop to make first. 

The cemetery came into view, and we parked out front before we started walking through the tombstones hand-in-hand. I’d woken up and known who the first people I needed to tell about Crispin and I being official were. I knew who the first people I wanted to come out to were. 

Finally, we found them. The sun was high in the sky, the humidity strong, but the graves were shaded beneath a weeping willow, tucked in the back end of the cemetery on the far-eastern side. A gentle breeze shook the branches and rustled the skirt of my yellow sundress, nearly stole away my floppy sun hat, but I kept it on as I looked down at the two people who I wished, more than anything, had been able to know the real me. 

“Ma. Dad. This is Crispin,” I said, gesturing to him. “He’s my boyfriend.”

I pictured Dad, hands in his pockets, a casual smile on his face, sizing Cris up, laughing as he processed the information at hand. He’d probably give the obligatory ‘hurt her and your body will never be found’ speech before clapping Cris on the shoulder and saying welcome to la nostra famiglia. Ma… I’d seen pictures. I knew what she’d looked like. Dad had uploaded the whole wedding album and every snapshot they ever took together onto social media. He’d wanted the whole world, as many people as would look, to know about Arianna DiGiacomo. She’d been shorter than me by a good few inches, with wavy brown hair down past her shoulders and olive skin that looked clear and smooth. She wore lots of makeup, and always had pearl studs in her ears. Some of her old dresses were in our house, mostly florals and her old wedding gown. I pictured her in a blue dress I’d seen upstairs a few times, pictured her nodding to Cris and whispering to me that I’d done well for myself. 

Something welled up behind my eyes, but I forced it back. I didn’t wanna cry today. 

“Sir, ma’am,” Cris said, his arm around my shoulders, holding me close to his chest so I could hear the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. “It’s an honor to finally meet you. Lily speaks very highly of the both of you.”

“How Cris and I met is… An interesting story,” I said. “We met through work. And the first time we saw each other we immediately got into an argument.”

“I mean, in hindsight we can just call it unconventional flirting,” Cris shrugged. “But yeah. The sparks flew. I was… I was over the moon for your daughter pretty quickly.”

“And I caught feelings of my own just about simultaneously, even if it took it a while to get that through my thick skull,” I laughed. No tears, no tears, please no tears. “But, uh… Well, we had to pretend to be engaged? It sounds so silly, I know, but… He was helping me and I was helping him and we were spending all this time together, and… The more I saw of him, the more I liked. The more I…”

Come on, Lily, you can do it. Say it already. Don’t start crying, just say it. 

My eyes clamped shut, and my free hand bunched into a shaking fist, and I finally let myself get swept away by the warm flood. I trusted the water, let it carry me away towards the future. “The more I fell in love with him!” I finally managed. 

Cris gasped- legitimately, audibly gasped in shock. His jaw hung loose and he looked at me with this starry-eyed expression that… Yeah, that clinched it. The words were out there, and it felt so right, so good, so fulfilling, so me. It was the truth. And I guess it really did set you free. 

“You said it,” he said, hand running through my hair, caressing my cheek. 

“Yeah. I did,” I smiled. I stood on my tip-toes and gave him a peck on the lips. “Your turn.”

Cris cleared his throat, then said, “Mr. and Mrs. DiGiacomo, I’m in love with your daughter. I’ve never felt this way before. She’s my sun in the sky, my light on the horizon. I’m not… I’m not sure if we’re really engaged or not at this point, but I know that she’s it for me. I’ll have her for a wife. If she’ll have me for a husband.”

Part of me thought: this is too fast. Too much too soon. Another part of me thought: trust your heart. Do what feels good. “I will,” I said, leaning into him, getting lost in him. “I will absolutely have you for a husband.”

That word… I never, ever in a million years thought it would come out of my mouth, but… Here we were. And I didn’t wanna be anywhere else.

“Is that right?” Cris beamed, “Well then fuck it. Can I see that ring? I think we need to do it properly this time.”

Oh God, the tears were officially here. There was no stopping them. My mascara, my poor, poor mascara! But it didn’t matter, what mattered was me handing Cris the ring, and him getting down on one knee and holding the diamond towards me. I was crying and laughing and whatever part of me believed in Heaven knew that my parents were looking down and smiling. Maybe it wasn’t quite the same as getting their blessing, but… It was something. 

“Lily Arianna DiGiacomo,” Crispin said, looking up at me with those beautiful fucking emerald eyes, “Will you marry me?”

“Yes!” I said with my entire body, letting out the tears and the euphoria all at once.

He slid the ring onto my finger, then hopped to his feet and kissed me full of passion and love and I couldn’t believe this was real but it was and I’d never been happier in my entire life! He held my face in his hands and I wrapped mine around his back and we were each other’s worlds and it was perfect. We were perfect. 

“Well then,” I finally said. “Ma. Dad. Glad you approve. Talk to you again soon, okay?”

“I’ll be back too,” Cris said. “Lots of stuff I wanna tell you both. For now, though… I gotta borrow your daughter for a while. Lots of conversations to be had today.”

“Oh, and this should probably be obvious, but it turns out I’m bi,” I said, rubbing the tears and mascara out of my eyes. “Who’da thunk it, am I right?”

“Me, angel,” Cris said. “I did.”

I snapped my fingers and pointed at him. “Damn right.”

***

“Are you sure you wanna be here for this?” Cris said as we pulled up to his driveway. “My dad might be ridiculous, but when he’s actually pissed it’s like a volcano erupting. It’s bad.”

“I’m not scared,” I told him as I put the car into park. “Hell, he should be scared of me. He thinks he’s got a temper? He ain’t seen nothing yet.”

“You’re… You’d tell my dad to go fuck himself if you thought it would help me, wouldn’t you?” Cris said. 

“Yeah,” I shrugged. I pulled out my phone and checked my makeup- I’d fixed it after we left the cemetery, but I wanted to be absolutely sure. I mean yeah, I’d met Cris’ family a dozen times over at this point, but I’d never met them as… Well, as his actual fiance instead of his fake one.  “That a problem?”

“Just… Be prepared to have to put me up for a while if this goes wrong.”

I clicked my phone shut and rolled my (perfectly made up) eyes. “Oh no, I’ll have to cohabitate with my incredibly sexy, endlessly affectionate, adorably nerdy fiance. Whatever will I do. You know, besides him.”

“Heh. Fair enough.”

“Indeed. Now open the door for me and lead me by the hand to your front door like a gentleman.”

“You’ve really gotten into this whole ‘high society lady’ thing, haven’t you?” he said as he got out of the car, walked around to my side, opened the door, and offered me his hand.

“Yes, and it’s your fault for converting and force-femming me, so I don’t wanna hear any complaints. Dahling,” I said as I took his hand and then planted one on his lips. 

“Lily, you cannot say that when we’re in public,” he groaned before adjusting his crotch to hide his erection. 

“What about when we’re doing exhibitionism?”

“... Okay, fine, you can say it in public, just not when anyone is in earshot,” Cris laughed. “God, what have I gotten myself into?”

“You knew what you were signing up for, babe,” I laughed as he led me to the front door. “You broke it, you bought it.”

He blanched when I said that, visibly flinching at that last sentence, but before I could inquire further, he opened the door and we were immediately buffeted by a familiar wail: 

“CRRRRRRRIIIIIIIIIIISSSSSSSPPPIIINNNNNNN!!!!!” Mr. Winfield barreled towards us down the stairs. 

Cris sighed, eyes narrow, shoulders slumping. He made the cutest face when he was sulking. “Dad. Were you waiting for me at the top of the stairs like an insane person again?”

“Hhhhwwwwhhattt of it?!”

“It’s a little weird-”

“Don’t get smart with me, mine eldest boy child! I have lost millions because of your violent tomfoolery! What have you to say for yourself!? And before you answer, know that your inheritance is on the line! As is your residence HEEYAH at this phat mansion!” 

Never thought I’d hear someone unironically use the phrase ‘phat mansion’, but I suppose given the events of the past few days anything was on the table. Drawing a deep breath, shifting into prim and proper and ladylike, I said, “Mr. Winfield. Respectfully. Your son acted heroically. He came to my rescue when I needed him. And why on earth would you want to do business with that beast Chuck and his family in the first place? Surely you realize they’re bad for optics?”

“LIIIILLLLLLYYYYY!” Mr. Winfield said, as if finally acknowledging my presence, “Under normal circumstances I would be inclined- nay, OBLIGATED- to agree with your humble opinion!” 

I mean it’s not really an opinion, the fucker tried to assault me, but whatever, dude. 

“HOWEVAH! These are not normal circumstances! And this is not the first time in the past several months mine eldest boy child hath cost me a not inconsiderable sum of currency!”

“When-”

“Two months erstwhile! Crispin played a small but instrumental role in the arrest and asset-seizure of Mallory O’Neil!”

“That feels like a bit of a stretch,” Cris said, walking past his dad and making a b-line for the living room. “I caused a distraction. I didn’t even have to do anything I wasn’t already planning to do while I was there.”

I sat down at the couch while Crispin prepared two whiskeys (neat) for himself and his father.  Mr. Winfield caught up, white hair a flowing trail behind him as he ran. 

He took the whiskey from Crispin and continued, “Oh hhhreally?! You were planning to do an improvised step-dance to an Irish jig rendition of Marshal Mathers’ Lose Yourself?! You were planning to dump a cooler of champagne on your body and convince multiple geriatrics to do the worm?!”

“Holy shit, is he serious?” I said, trying and failing not to giggle at the mental picture that painted. “That’s amazing!”

“And what if I did go planning to do that? What difference does it make?” Cris said. 

“None, I suppose. But regardless: you helped bring down-”

“A horrible monster and a crooked businesswoman who spent her life traumatizing one of my best friends,” Cris said flatly. 

“BE THAT AS IT MAY! Mallory and I worked together, and her arrest has cost our company millions! The merger with Chuck’s fathers’ firm was meant to alleviate this, but that is no longer going to happen! Don’t you see! Our EMPIYAH has suffered many a painful blow because of your impertinence!”

This. Fucking. Guy. Okay, fuck it. Time to go for the throat. I stood up and took the whiskey glass out of Mr. Winfield’s hand. He looked at me like I’d slapped him. Good. “Mr. Winfield. With all due respect, I think you are PERHAPS overlooking what Cris has done for your reputation. He’s drawn a line in the sand for you and your family. Made it clear to the rest of the Boston elite and to the public at large that the Winfield family does not tolerate corruption, abuses of power, misogyny, transphobia, homophobia, or biphobia. You and your lovely bisexual wife talk often about wanting to present a good face. That Cris has done all this for the benefit of his bisexual, transgender fiance and equally transgender best friend helps make that good face very good indeed. Unless, of course, you don’t wanna walk the walk. Unless, of course, you’re only an ally when it’s convenient for you. Unless, of course, you want to be exactly like all those other rich parasites. Is that what you want? To be like the people who make your wife ashamed to be honest about who she is?”

And Mr. Winfield, for the first time in the months I’d known him, actually fucking blinked and actually fucking stuttered. “Well, I… That’s… You see… I suppose you’re… Suppose you’re not wrong. Objectively speaking.”

I gave the old man a pat on the cheek. “Glad we’re on the same page, Pop.”

“Irregardless-”

“Is not a real word, Dad,” Cris rolled his eyes. 

“The PIPAH must still be paid! What kind of father would I be if I let my children run wild like this, causing chaos at every turn?”

“Didn’t you let him run through the house with an aerosol flamethrower as a kid?” I cocked an eyebrow… And also realized an entirely new world of dick jokes had opened up to me. Oh hell yes!

“Y… Yes. But that simply proves that I’ve failed, and must rectify my failures at all costs! As such, I must punish Crispin for his transgressions. I know his heart, burning with love for thee, was in the right place, but he still struck the first blow-”

“No, he didn’t,” Preston suddenly cut in. How long had he been standing in that doorway? The fuck? “I did. I started the fight. I charged at Chuck. I was the one who escalated it.”

What. 

“Pres,” Cris said softly.

“PRRRRESSSSSTTTTTTONNNN!” Mr. Winfield bellowed.  “Is this true?!” 

“Yes,” Preston said. 

Then Mr. Winfield turned to me and said, “Is it?”

I mean, I guess it was technically true. In the same way manatees were technically mermaids. But I couldn’t let Preston take the fall here. And based on the confused, agitated, concerned expression Crispin was sporting, he wasn’t keen on that idea either. 

“While I appreciate Preston doing this,” I said, “And while he did do everything in his power to stop Chuck from hurting me, it feels like a bit of a stretch to say he’s the one who started the fight. He tried to interfere, then got Crispin, and then charged at Chuck, only to take a splash of alcohol to the eyes.”

“Preston,” Mr. Winfield said, walking over to him. “Mine younger and vastly more disappointing boy-child. What was it that I told you? That I’ve spent your entire life telling you?”

Preston, shoulders slumped and eyes locked on the floor, said, “Don’t start fights you know you can’t win?”

“Yes. Yessssssss,” Mr. Winfield said, clapping Preston on both shoulders. 

I looked at Crispin and mouthed ‘is this normal?’

Cris just nodded. 

“Son,” Mr. Winfield said. Preston flinched at the word. Huh. “You will lose most fights. You stand at all of 170 centimetres. Your frame is lacking in any kind of musculature whatsoever. You possess a weak constitution. And your face possesses an inherently punchable quality. You are not a fighter. You succeed only in making things worse when you try.”

The fuck?!

“Moreover,” Mr. Winfield said, walking in circles around Preston. “What if poor Lily here had found her situation worsened by your actions?”

Preston was silent. 

“Okay, um, I wanna add that I really appreciate what he did,” I said, stepping forward. 

Cris stepped up with me. “Yeah, seriously. He came and got me. I wouldn’t have known what was going on if he hadn’t.”

“Irregardless-”

“Is still not a word,” I said. 

“Preston has offered himself up as a sacrifice. And perhaps I should let him,” Mr. Winfield said. “Mine second and far less impressive boy-child, tell me, since graduating university, have you held down a job for any length of time? Have you even applied for any?”

Preston gulped. “No, sir.”

“Do you or do you not simply spend your days frivolously throwing away your mother and I’s money on parties, expensive clothes, imported spirits, horses, and anime merchandise?”

“Y… Yes sir.”

“Dad,” Cris said, “This isn’t about him-”

“On the contrary, mine eldest and far more dignified boy-child, the party at which your lovely fiance was nearly attacked was one which Preston organized.”

“Claudia too,” I pointed out. 

“Yes, but Claudia actually has a job as a nightclub disc jockey. And Claudia wasn’t involved in this incident, and Claudia isn’t the one who invited Chuck, who associates with him.”

“He’s… He’s more Olivia’s friend than mine,” Prestond offered weakly, hands trembling. 

“That’s not an association that does you any favors either, considering her reprehensible behavior towards your future sister-in-law,” Mr. Winfield said. “Preston. Mine younger and far more TERRIBLE boy-child whom I love very much, I think perhaps it is time you grow the everloving fuck up.”

“Dad, stop it,” Cris said. “Punish me, not Preston.”

“Nay! My mind hath been made up!” Mr. Winfield said. “Preston, you are to move out. Whatever you have in your savings account is yours, but you will receive no more money from me or your mother. Your credit cards are cancelled, and your access to your trust fund is revoked until such a time as I see fit. I want you gone by the end of the day!”

A crushing sensation of guilt settled over me. This wasn’t right. Preston… I may not have liked him personally, but he didn’t deserve to get punished for doing the right thing. Plus, one look at this sad wet twink who’d never worked a day in his life and I could tell he wasn’t liable to last a week on his own. 

“Dad,” Cris said. “If you’re kicking him out, then I’m leaving too.”

“Hwhat?!” Mr. Winfield exclaimed. 

“It’s long overdue, and frankly, I’m more equipped to handle it. I’ll keep what’s in my bank accounts, transfer my trust fund over to my savings, but you can write me out of the will. Take what you’d have given to me and divide amongst our staff. I’ll know if you don’t do it, by the way- I do mushrooms with our lawyer once a month,” Cris said. 

Holy shit. 

“Crispin, come now-”

“No, Dad. Just no. I’m tired of this. I have a job. I’m getting married. It’s time I stopped mooching off of my family.”

Holy shit!

“Besides,” Cris said, walking over and putting his arm around his kid brother. “You taught us that Winfields show solidarity. This is what that looks like.”

HOLY SHIT!!!

“Crispin, please, you can’t make this kind of unilateral decision without consulting with your woman,” Mr. Winfield begged. 

“You mean like you’re doing by kicking out your kid without talking to his mom about it?” I said, narrow eyes glaring at Old Man Winfield. “I’m fine with this, by the way. When Cris and I came here today, we were fully prepared for you to do your worst.”

“But our empiyah-”

“I’m not a gold digger, Mr. Winfield,” I said with my sweetest smile. “I love Crispin for his kind soul, his open mind, and his deliciously hunky body. Not his money. I’m sure you understand.”

“I… I do,” Mr. Winfield said, face and tone deflating. It was amazing how miserable someone could look when they’d gotten exactly what they wanted but still lost the argument. 

“Come on, bud, let us help you pack,” Cris said, leading a bewildered Preston towards the stairs. I waved good-bye to my future father-in-law as I followed them. 

Preston was seemingly very unattached to most of his stuff: he settled for packing a suitcase of clothes, a backpack with his laptop and a few stuffed animals (a fox, a horse, and an elephant, respectively), and another one full anime merch. I’d never seen so extensive a collection of magical girl figurines, and I honestly felt sorry for the guy when he said he was probably gonna have to sell them to make money.

As we loaded his stuff and a few boxes of Cris’ books into my car and Naomi’s limo, a pang of pity struck me once again. Preston was… Well, he was basically what I’d assumed Cris was when we first met: a rich fuckboy who was content to piss away his family’s money while coasting through life on tutorial mode. And now he was on his own. 

Well, almost on his own. 

“Hey, so,” Cris said as we leaned against the hood of my car. “I know we haven’t always gotten along. But I’m sorry things shook out like this.”

Preston’s eyes were a thousand miles away. “It’s… It’s fine.”

“Is it?” I said. 

“Dad’s mind is made up. This is just how it’s gotta be,” Preston said in a monotone flatter than my chest had been in middle school. “Thanks for… For this.”

“Thank you for helping me,” I said. “So, Cris is just gonna stay with me for a bit while we figure things out- I’d have to talk to my brother, but we do have an extra room-”

“No,” Preston said. “I… I appreciate it. But Dad’s right. I need to figure my shit out. I already texted a friend- I can stay with him for a few weeks, at least until I can find a job.”

“You sure, little brother?” Cris said. 

Preston flinched again… HUH. “Yeah. I’m sure. Thanks, though.”

He gave us an awkward salute, then climbed into the limo and drove off. 

“Think he’s gonna be okay?” I said as the limo left the driveway. 

“Not remotely,” Cris said. Ah, there was that lack of filter. Much appreciated. “But I’ll look out for him.”

“That’s good of you,” I said. 

“It’s the right thing to do,” Cris said simply. “That’s all there is to it.”

“You gonna be okay with money?”

“Everything I promised you is either already paid for or within my ability to cover with my savings,” Cris said. “Beyond that… We’ll figure something out.”

I kissed him on the cheek before hopping back into the car. “We absolutely will.”

He got into the passenger’s seat while I turned on the car and put us in reverse. “Rob knows I’m coming, right?”

“Oh… Oh shit, I forgot.”

Cris just laughed. “We’ve got a lot to answer for, don’t we?”

“Seems like it. Dahling.”