I stare at her. At the empty dessert plates. At my half-empty cognac glass. At the pile of lettuce still sitting on my plate like a monument to this disaster.
"No," I manage. "I don't watch television shows."
"Oh, you should! They're so fun. Really helps you unwind, you know?"
The waiter returns with the check. Four hundred and seventy-three euros.
For a meal I didn't eat.
While listening to a plot summary of a reality show I'll never watch.
And receiving a plate full of plain lettuce in exchange for a twenty-four-ounce steak.
"This was amazing," Liana says as we stand to leave. "Thank you so much for dinner!"
I pay the check in a daze. The drive back to her place is quiet. She's still chattering about the restaurant, about how amazing the food was, about how she can't wait to come back.
I'm trying to process what just happened.
Did she really trade lettuce for steak? Did she really order dessert for me and then eat all of it herself? Did she really drink half my cognac while explaining a reality show plot?
I can't tell if she's completely clueless or if something else is going on. No. She can't be doing this on purpose. Nobody's that good of an actress.
I pull up to the Costa estate. Walk her to the door because I'm not a complete asshole, even if I am starving and slightly drunk from the cognac she left me.
"Thank you for dinner!" She kisses my cheek. "You're so sweet for taking me to such a nice place."
"You're welcome," I manage.
"Same time tomorrow?" She's already opening the door. "Or no, wait, tomorrow's your mom's dinner. Okay. I'll see you then! I can’t wait to spend more time with your family."
The door closes in my face. I stand there for a solid thirty seconds, trying to figure out what just happened. My stomach growls. Loudly.
I just spent four hundred and seventy-three dollars on dinner and I'm starving.
I drive away from the Costa estate, heading toward home, but halfway there my stomach growls again. I can't make it. I need food. Now.
I spot a burger place up ahead. One of those cheap drive-thrus with the bright lights and the speaker box. The kind of place I haven't been to since I was a teenager.
I pull in, then immediately regret it. What if someone sees me? Santino Marcello, underboss of the Marcello family, future Don of the combined Costa-Marcello empire, eating fast food in his car like some kind of—
My stomach growls again.
Fuck it.
I pull my collar up. Slide my sunglasses on even though it's dark. Hunker down slightly in my seat as I roll up to the speaker.
"Welcome, can I take your order?"
"Double cheeseburger. Large fries. Chocolate shake." I keep my voice low.
"Anything else?"
"Another double cheeseburger."
Silence from the speaker. "Two double cheeseburgers, large fries, and a shake?"
"Yes."
