May laughed. “That’s Mikey. You’ll love him. He’s a sweetie.”
Chapter 3
A little less than an hour later, George was standing behind the bar making a to-do list when the bell to David’s door jingled again.
“Knock, Knock,” said a friendly voice.
George looked up. It was the mailman. “Hey there. Am I already getting mail? I just figured out the breaker box.”
Mikey looked confused.
George pointed up. “Lights. I’ve been in the dark most of this time.”
“Oh. Gotcha. No. No mail yet. Just wanted to pop in and say hi.”
George came out from behind the bar and extended his hand. “Hi. I’m George... George Patras.”
“You’re Greek. Nice. I’m Mikey. Mikey Napolitano.”
“And you’re Italian—brothers from sister countries. Buongiorno, Mikey!”
“Kalimera, Geórgios!” He pulled George into a surprising, but fraternal embrace.
When they parted, patting each other’s backs, George chuckled. “Your Greek is good. But my Italian doesn’t extend much beyondgood afternoon... unless you’re including food.”
“Same. And I love Italian food if you can’t tell,” Mikey said, rubbing his stomach. “And your business... David’s? What’s it going to be?”
“A restaurant. I’m a chef.”
Mikey made prayer hands, eyes lifting. “Thank, God. Greek food, I presume.”
“Mediterranean... a little Greek, a little Italian, some Spanish if I’m feeling frisky.”
“I fucking love it,” Mikey said. “Pardon my French. When I heard the name David’s, I was worried it would be another one of those stupid pop-up boutiques. You know—skimpy bathing suits for skinny queens. I’m happy that it’s going to be a restaurant. Mr. Chang would be happy too. He owned the place before. He died. It used to be Sun Garden, a Chinese restaurant.”
“Yeah, I can tell. I’m picking up the ghosts of garlic and ginger.”
Mikey’s brow furrowed briefly. “Oh, the smell. Yeah, yeah. Lots of fried stuff. Don’t you worry, though. You’ll have the place smelling great soon... even better, I imagine.”
His eyes drifted for a moment, casing the empty room.
“You OK?”
“Yeah, just a little sad. I haven’t been in here since he died. I’m happy that it’s going to be a restaurant, though. I don’t know what you call that... karma? Yin and yang? It just feels right.” He grinned. “And I like food—in case you hadn’t noticed.”
“Me too, Mikey. To hell with skinny queens.”
“Yeah, fuck ‘em.”
“So, you and Mr. Chang were close.”
“Not really, but when you see someone every day for years, you don’t realize how much they mean until they’re gone. I check my horoscope daily inThe Post, something I mentioned to him early on. From then on out, he made sure I had a fortune cookie every day.”
“Sounds like a sweet man.”
“The sweetest. So, anyway... you’re on my route. I’ll be seeingyounow. I’m supposed to tell you that you need a regulation wall mailbox outside, but—between you and me—don’t bother unless you want to. I don’t mind bringing it in. Uncle Sam’s trying to cut costs every way he can but, personally, I enjoy getting to know people. Besides, from the looks of the place, you have a lot of work ahead of you... no need for you to worry about the mail. You let me worry about that.”
“That’s very kind of you. And, if you don’t mind me saying, that’s quite some singing voice you’ve got there.”
