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“So you went,” Tommy said.
“Of course,” I said. “I mean, it sounded exciting, and I thought there might be a story in there.”
“What was it like?” he asked.
And in that moment, as he leaned toward me a little bit more, I knew I had him.
I grinned and shrugged like it was no big thing.
“Oh, you know,” I said. “Bunch of rich old guys talking to each other about how big their bank accounts were. No big deal, really.”
He gave me a hard look. “So you brought me all the way out here for no big deal?” he asked.
“No, I mean, I just—”
“Here’s a tip, kid,” he said. “If you have a story, act like it’s a story. Don’t downplay or be modest, own it.”
I took a breath and nodded. “Right, okay,” I said. “So, well, I was there, and I was doing my thing, you know? Passing out food, collecting empty cups, that sort of thing. And as I’m doing a pass through the crowd, I noticed that Vince had left and—”
He interrupted me. “Vince?”
“Vincent,” I said. “Goes by Vince. You want to hear this or not?”
He gestured. “Go on.”
“So anyway, he went out onto this patio overlooking the city. I followed him out there, we talked a little bit, I turned on the charm, and he wants to meet with me.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Meet with you?”
I nodded. “For lunch. All I have to do is call.”
He grunted and shook his head. “Mona—”
“But wait,” I said. “Before you tell me it’s a bad idea, he knows I’m a journalist. I told him straight up, and said I might want to write about him.”
Tommy pursed his lips. “And he still wants to have lunch with you?”
“That’s what he said.”
He shook his head, a frown on his lips. “Mona, you can’t be serious.”
I felt my face flush as I stared at him. I didn’t expect that reaction, not at all. Oh, I figured he’d tell me to be careful, do that whole thing, but I thought he’d be impressed. I went out there and found a subject worth writing about.
“Why not?” I asked.
“Men like that are dangerous,” he said. “I know, the mafia doesn’t kill like they used to, they got a lot smarter these days. But those guys are still dangerous as hell. You don’t want to get attached to one, even if he does know you’re a journalist.”
“You wrote about gangsters back in the day,” I pointed out. “You did it all the time, actually. What made you so different?”
“I wasn’t twenty-three,” he said. “I was older than you. And I was a—”
“You were a man?” I asked, eyes narrowed.
He sighed. “No, you idiot. I was a full-time reporter with years of experience.”
“It’s just lunch,” I said. “I mean, it can’t hurt, right?”
“It can hurt,” he said. “It can hurt a lot.”
I stared at him and felt my pulse racing. I didn’t expect this, not at all.
I finally had a real scoop. Well, maybe not a scoop, but at least an angle into the life of an interesting figure. I could write a profile about Vince, change all the names around, obfuscate some details, but still, I could write something real. People love the mafia, and they want to know what the mob’s really doing in these modern times.
And yet Tommy’s talking to me like I can’t handle it.
“This is good,” I said. “Randy’s never going to take me on full-time, not with papers struggling the way they are.”
“Fucking internet,” Tommy said.
“Fucking internet,” I agreed. “So the only way to get my foot in the door is to prove that I’m smart, talented, and can take some real risks.”
“This isn’t the kind of risk you want to take,” Tommy said. “These mafia guys, they’ll use you, chew you up, spit you out. They don’t give a damn about anything but themselves.”
“Probably right,” I said. “But I still have to do it.”
He looked at me for a long, tense moment, before he sighed and hung his head.
“Damn it,” he said. “You’re really going to call him, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” I said, and only just realized it was true. I hadn’t made up my mind yet, or at least I was telling myself that I had to talk to Tommy first.
But now I knew I was really going through with it.
“Fine,” he said. “But please, keep me in the loop. Keep me updated. If you disappear for a few days, I’m calling the fucking cops, you hear me?”
“Tommy, if I disappear for a few days, you tell the cops to search every inch of the Schuylkill River for my body.”
He sighed and rolled his eyes.
“You think you’re joking,” he said, “but you have no clue how many bodies are down there already.”
“Then I’ll have good company.” I leaned over and hugged him and kissed his cheek. “Tell Randy I’ve got a good story coming, okay?”
