The question was so ludicrous, I burst out laughing, and it took me a moment to rein it in. “M-me?” I sputtered. “With him? That’s a riot. There aren’t two people more diametrically opposed than Martinelli and myself. I doubt we’d have two words to exchange with each other without going at each other’s throats.”
“Really? Based on what are you making that assumption?”
I sensed a rebuke in his question, but I plowed ahead. “I come from a working-class family. My brother and I were the first to go to college, and even then it was City College and on loans. I don’t own a designer suit, and I drink my non-imported beer from a bottle. Frankly, I can’t remember the last time I was even in the city.”
“You know, Salvatore, sometimes we think we have all the answers, but in our own well-meaning way, we miss out because we have inborn prejudices. Just because someone has money doesn’t mean they’re a bad person.”
“I know, but—”
“And,” he continued smoothly, “lack of money doesn’t make them a good person either. What I’m trying to say is, I’ve known Francisco for years. He’s not who you think.”
“What I think about him personally is irrelevant. It’s about the snobbish, arrogant tone of his reviews, as if people are lucky he notices them or for being allowed in his presence. And about his deliberate ignorance of ninety percent of the people of New York City. I don’t have to meet him to know I have nothing in common with someone like that and never will.”
“Never say never. Maybe one day you’ll meet and change your mind.”
I barked out a laugh. “Unlikely. But getting back to the reason for my call, what do you think? Of the restaurant list?” I let the question hang, more determined than before to not end this call until Edward agreed.
“I think…” he mused. “I’m thinking that could be a very good idea. I appreciate your candor in admitting you want to draw some of our readers to your blog, and I’m happy to poach off your readership as well. But one thing.”
“Yes, sure.” I bit my lip, cursing myself for sounding too eager.
“I’ll take your list, and while I promise to credit you with the source, your blog has no say in which restaurants get reviewed or who does the reviewing. If you agree to that, we have a deal.”
Good thing this wasn’t a video call and Edward couldn’t see my fist-pump.
Deserving restaurants would finally be getting exposure, and that was what mattered. They’d waited long enough for this, and I’d do whatever I could to make their dreams happen.
Who cared if I had to put up with a jerk like Francisco Martinelli sticking his nose into places I loved?
Not like I’d ever meet him anyway.
