“You remember Giovanni,” I say, introducing my brother for the umpteenth time.
“Of course,” the mayor says.
“I’d like to stop by your office,” I announce, knowing that’s not exactly the type of friendship he has in mind.
“Can’t we conclude our business on the golf course?” he asks. “Fewer cameras, if you know what I mean.”
I laugh. He’s all about political posturing, and I can respect that. If I were him, I wouldn’t want to be seen with a mobster like myself either. “All I need is a handshake,” I say.
Bob reaches out to shake officially, giving me a grin and a pat on the shoulder. He likes to pretend that he’s the biggest dog in the city, but we both know who runs the town. Now that the business has concluded, we’re safe to talk about other things.
The mayor has an adult daughter who’s studying art somewhere in Europe. We talk about her for a while, and then we talk about sports. The mayor’s wife is giving me the side eye, and I wonder why in the hell she’s on the green to begin with. She’s not a golfer. She’s just here to be a thorn in my side.
“Why don’t you go get us some coffee, sweetheart?” I ask just to put her in her place.
She scowls, adjusts her sun hat, and stalks back to the golf cart.
“Go easy on her,” the mayor protests.
“You’re not gonna win any more elections if she won’t give you some breathing room,” I suggest, hinting at the fact that maybe I had something to do with his current political position.
It’s true. I have that kind of effect on people. I can rally the vote when I need to, and confuse the process to the point where my guy always comes out on top. Bob and I had an understanding a while back, and I know he appreciates it.
“I’ll talk to her,” he says.
“You do that,” I agree.
My phone pings, and I pull it out of my pocket.
Frankie:Dad, I just got an A on my exam!
It’s like he’s still a kid and coming home with papers he wants me to post on the fridge. I’ve gotta hand it to him. His heart is in the right place. I know he wants to become a lawyer to give back to the family, and I grudgingly appreciate the sentiment.
Me:Good job.
Everyone else in my life’s got their hands out for a paycheck, but not Frankie. All he wants is my respect. He works so hard, even though he doesn’t have the head for grunt work or scholastic life.
That tutor of his, though. It’s been about three weeks since she’s been working with Frankie, and I have to say I’ve seen an improvement. He’s all business about college now. Instead of having a bunch of slackers around the house, he keeps to himself, studying and reading up on the latest cases.
Whenever I see him in the hallway or at the breakfast table, he can’t wait to tell me about whatever it is he’s reading. Some of it is pretty interesting, I have to admit. Like the information about what cops can and can’t do. I find that particularly valuable in my line of work.
I can’t help but think about Marlena. I see her almost every day as she walks into the house. She doesn’t know I’m watching, of course, but I know her schedule. I know she goes upstairs to work with Frankie and doesn’t come out for a couple of hours. I know they’re not doing anything but work up there because I asked.
“Dad, no,” Frankie said over breakfast one morning.
“You sure?” I asked him. “’Cause she’s a looker.”
“She’s not interested in me,” Frankie replied, which made me feel strangely relieved.
“Good,” I’d snapped. “Keep it that way. We’re not paying her to roll around in the sheets with you.”
“I’m paying her,” Frankie reminded me. “Not you.”
“Oh, really?” I teased, pushing him around just to show him who’s boss. “And where do you get your fortune from, son?”
He’d clammed up after that, but I learned a thing or two. Whenever I can work Marlena into a conversation, I do. I’m curious about her, and Frankie’s the best source of information. I’m still concerned that she’s hiding something. But as far as I can tell, it’s not mob-related. If she’s in with a rival family, she’s either really good or clueless. No, there’s something else about her, something that tells me she knows her way around a backroom but that she’s not too happy about it.
Of course, I only spoke with her that one time. But that was enough. I can’t help myself. I want to know everything. I watch her as she climbs out of her car. That unconscious swish of her hair as she turns around to grab her purse. She bounds up the steps with the kind of energy a man like me could appreciate. And then she disappears, where I can’t see her anymore.
