“Or little pope-lets.” I chuckle as she giggles.
“Little men with giant hats and croziers? I had no idea.”
“And tiny pope-mobiles. It’s all in the fine print of our Pre Cana study guides. Haven’t you been reading?”
“Must’ve missed it.” Still laughing, she pads into the bathroom and starts the shower.
A minute later, I join her and make more sweet, sweet, lovin’ until we fall sound asleep.
Chapter Thirteen
Sam
Gah, it’s only nine but I already need a nap. Sure, staying the night was awesome, and the sex even more so. The price? Getting up at five in the friggin’ morning so I’m not late for work.
Suds suggested I report in sick but I can’t do that to my cousins. Thursdays are really busy. Even so, I take a short break and climb out the salon’s back window. Phone in hand, I sit on the sill in front of a small courtyard and call my uncle. He says to meet him at the pizza parlor after my shift.
A few hours later, I wave goodbye to my aunt and walk down the block to Petey’s. The huge man makes a circle of dough on the counter, then shows off as it spins it in the air.
Without missing a beat, he motions me back. “Go on. He’s waiting.”
One of the privileged few allowed in the room behind the freezer, I take a deep breath, tread softly over the tiled floor, and tug open the heavy door. Sitting at the head of a long oak table, King Vincent sits on his throne and grants me my audience.
Reverently, I stroll between chairs and a wall full of fine art in ornate frames. Overhead, the crystal chandelier reflects on a silver tub of ice, holding a bottle of Prosecco.
“Hi Uncle Vinny.” I kiss both his cheeks, making sure to flash my engagement ring at him. “We agreed, no blind dates, right?”
He shrugs as he pours me a glass of vino. “You sure the bum’s not Italian?”
“Positive.”
“Too bad for him. You’re not hitched so I still got a chance.”
While I sit and sip my wine, he grins, no doubt contemplating my next dating disaster. “So, how can I help you, today, Sammy?”
“Not so fast. What’s the fee?” My eyes narrow at his smug face.
“Hmm… I can’t t’ink right now. I guess you’ll just have to owe me a favor.” He lights a half smoked cigar, and puffs until the end glows red.
No way am I handing him a blank check. “How about a gift certificate to Suds and Sam. Let’s say… eight hours.”
“Forty.”
“Twenty.”
“Any case I want?”
“Yeah, sure.”
“Deal.” He shoves out his large hand and we shake.
I get a niggling feeling I might’ve made a huge mistake.
Vinny sets down his stogie, makes a steeple with his index fingers, and brings them to his lips. “So, how can I help youz?”
“The Buonanno’s. Would they frame Sienna for murder?”
“I taught you better than dat, kid. It’s not their style. If they want someone dead…” He aims a virtual gun to his temple. “Boom.”
