Inod toward Dante and Matteo, bending down to kiss my wife on the lips before talking in her ear. “Stay with them.”
Lucia’s has been the unofficial meeting place of anyone of importance since the first boatload of immigrants landed from Sicily. Well, that’s the story that gets handed down from generation to generation. History aside, the Gambrillo Family still seems to spend too much time here because it is Vitale’s favorite place to be.
The restaurant doesn’t accept walk-in traffic. It’s not listed in the phone book, but it is always busy. The only requirement for entry is you need to be associated with the Gambrillo Family, and then there’s always a table for you.
Even though I’m probably related to the majority of people here, none of them would be invited into my home. Still, we are greeted like friends. Aside from a handful of people, I wouldn’t trust any of them as far as I could kick them.
Around the edges of the restaurant sit the desperate. People who want Vitale’s attention and will do anything to make ithappen. Claudia and Vivian sit with their family, their father noticeably missing. But until he pays what he owes, he is no longer welcome.
I wait until Claudia is looking at me again before I smile coldly and point to the new wedding band on my hand. She drops her head. The visit we made to her father included her as well, and I like to believe she now has a better handle as to what I will do to her, and her family, if she tries that shit on me or my wife again.
But she isn’t the reason I’m standing. Manny, the manager, is. He is as squirrelly and old as Vitale. He doesn’t like people in the kitchen, but I don’t like the idea of not watching my wife’s food being prepared.
“Valentine.” He steps into my path, pulling me up to a stop. “How can I help?”
Since he won’t let me in the kitchen, and I can’t pull a gun on him without drawing attention, I reach out to shake his hand.
“How are the grandchildren? It’s hard to believe little Amelie is now in Pre-K. Has she settled in well at Bella Grace?”
The man deflates faster than a balloon with a hole, and I’m glad he hears the threat in my question. But in case he chooses to ignore it, I make it as clear as day for him.
“I just wanted to let you know seafood doesn’t sit well with my wife. Actually, if I remember correctly, doesn’t little Amelie have a nasty allergy to peanuts?”
Manny splutters into action. “I personally will oversee your wife’s food being prepared, Valentine. I would hate for an accident to happen in my kitchen.”
I nod, agreeing, though I still don’t trust him not to poison Layne. It wouldn’t be the first time Manny or his wife made it happen in his restaurant. And it’s not like this is the first time I’ve stooped low, either.
“You’re probably wondering how I know all about Amelie, right? It’s not common knowledge, but I have faith in you, Manny. I know I can trust you, like you can trust me. See, the thing is, my pack recently became shareholders in childcare and early learning. It is such a booming market these days, along with dying. Anyway, only an idiot wouldn’t have jumped at the chance. Bella Grace is a money-making factory. Thank you for the reminder too. I have to approve the menu for all our pupils for next week.” I leave him contemplating life.
Turning around, my eyes jump straight back to where I left Layne. Matteo is talking quietly to her while my brother’s focus from her gets diverted by a text. His whole demeanor changes in the space of a few moments. And then I watch as Vitale’s enforcer, Roberto, gets a text before he leans over to Vitale’s right-hand man, Vincent.
So many people are now vying for the position of being named Vitale’s successor, it’s hard to keep up. It makes this whole thing even more farcical than the important honor it should be viewed as. Vitale feeds the drama, knowingly. He’s a powerful man whose strength and importance are being ripped from him, but at the same time, if he were as influential as he perceives himself to be, he would have already named his successor to ensure the Cosa Nostra remained unified and unrivaled in their strength.
But how many people are running for the title and the sudden text messages aren’t the only things of interest. The door to the restaurant opens, and my second cousin Diego and his sour cunt of a wife, Rosa, rush in. Late.
Vitale handles the drama as if he was the first to know, and I smile at Dante, knowing we got the intel before anyone else in this room. With a wave of Vitale’s hand, the room falls to silence.
“First the Cartel, and now Petrov is sending spies into my city.” His voice is thick with strain, his words interspersed withwheezing. “I trusted you all, and you let me down. Tonight, I was going to name my successor, but with the threat of these pigs on our doorstep, there is nothing to celebrate.”
Roberto jumps to his feet, spluttering support and offering to take the lead on chasing the Petrov Bratva out. He drones on about the honor involved in the family business, handling the situation, and bringing Vitale the heads of those who dare step foot in Vitale’s territory. My focus stays on Diego and Rosa as they walk toward Vitale with apologies and gifts.
Layne steals my attention in the very next moment, though. Dante’s gaze snaps to her. Like me, he doesn’t miss her subtle shift in her body language as she turns her head slightly, like she’s hiding her face. Matteo leans down to talk in her ear, and she smiles at him before whispering back to him. It takes a few moments for her to explain the issue, and when Matteo barks out a laugh, interrupting everyone in the restaurant, she pointedly glares at him before her eyes jump to mine. I swear I read an apology in them.
Rosa twists to see what’s going on, and even after all the injections and implants, she still can’t hide the mask of surprise at seeing my wife. Before I get more of a chance to watch the exchange, Vitale waves Diego and Rosa to their seats before giving Roberto his blessing to get the job done.
The other appointed enforcers, including Dante, climb to their feet, and they move without question to the door. Their afternoon changed from a lunch meeting to a hunting expedition. Once they leave, the mood in the restaurant is more subdued, and there is a break in the tension as clean plates are delivered for the entrée. Some people move to the bathroom, others stand to greet family, and I move to Diego and Rosa.
“Traffic bad?” I ask Diego, stretching my arms out before he can answer and kissing his cheek in greeting.
There’s no mistaking how offensive the gesture is. There is also no part of me concerned by my obvious slur or how Diego takes it. I also pointedly ignore his wife, because she is nothing but a piece of shit. I lose even more respect for Diego when he doesn’t call me out for the way I treat his wife.
We walk over to the bar for privacy.
“You’re playing a dangerous game keeping Vitale waiting.” I needle him. Intentionally. Diego might look like he’s made of ice, but he has a fiery temper, and it has been a constant bane of frustration for my grandfather.
“Who’s the bitch next to the bastard?” he snaps.
I smile like a shark as I move in slowly to cup his face. “You talk like that about my pack again, Diego, and I’ll shoot your kneecap before I slit your throat.”
