“Do you work for Dante? I thought you were a courier.”
He looked proud as he said, “Dante hired me to be his and Nana’s assistant.”
We all turned toward the deep voice that said, “That was shortly after I caught him trying to break into my car.” Dante had appeared in the kitchen doorway. He looked amused as he added, “He had no idea what he was doing.”
I asked incredulously, “He tried to steal your car, so you hired him?”
“We all did stupid shit in our twenties,” Dante said with a shrug. “I had my family to help me get it together. Now Bowen does, too.”
“For the record, all I wanted was to take that sweet Porsche on a joy ride,” Bunny said earnestly. “I had every intention of putting it right back where I found it.” For some reason, I believed him.
Dante crossed the large foyer, and after he and Armando shook hands and introduced themselves, my cousin grabbed me in a backslapping hug. “Great to see you, Sal.”
“Great to see you, too.”
“Come on in. Nana whipped up a huge batch of bloody Marys and did a lot of taste-testing along the way, which might explain why she burned the hell out of the stuff she was making for brunch. Never fear, though. Charlie and Ollie are on their way to pick up a deli platter and some baked goods, so we won’t go hungry.”
As we followed him to the kitchen, I asked, “Who else will be joining us?”
“My brother Vincent and his husband, but they’re running late because they had to pick up Josh and Darwin. The boys were working on some kind of film project, but their car broke down in the Outer Mission.”
My great aunt was as colorful as ever in her rainbow-striped T-shirt and hot pink velour track suit. She greeted me with a hug, and when I introduced her to my boyfriend, she beamed at me and said, “So, you like dick after all!”
I had no idea what to say to that. Before I could think of a reply, she crushed Armando in an embrace and exclaimed, “Look at you, you’re adorable!”
Arie murmured, “Thank you, ma’am.”
“Call me Nana,” she said, when she finally let go of him. “I hope you like bloody Marys. I’ve got all kinds of things here to doll ‘em up a bit. Most people go with a piece of celery, but they’re not using their imagination.” With that, she plunked a multi-layered skewer into her glass. It was studded with gherkins, marinated mushroom caps, and miniature balls of fresh mozzarella, arranged in a way that made me wonder if I had an exceptionally dirty mind.
While Dante poured some drinks, Nana said, “Tell me about you, Armando. I want to know everything.”
He glanced at me and mumbled, “I, um…”
To help him out, I said, “Arie owns an amazing midcentury diner. The food is out of this world.”
Nana clapped her hands and exclaimed, “That’s fantastic! I owned a restaurant back in the day. I even had my own cooking show on cable television. I’ll tell you my favorite recipes if you tell me yours.”
She and Arie launched into an animated discussion about food, and I took a seat at the kitchen island and grinned. This was off to a good start.
About half an hour later, we were on our third round of drinks when the doorbell rang. Bunny leapt up and announced, “I’ll get it,” as he hurried out of the kitchen.
“I hate to say it,” Armando said, “but I’m going to be too full for brunch after this.”
“I’m going to be too drunk,” Dante muttered, as he topped off our glasses.
Bunny returned a few moments later. His usual smile was replaced with a worried expression, and he said, “Someone wants to speak to you, Sal.”
He stepped aside, and a distinguished-looking man in a three-piece suit entered the kitchen. He was probably in his late thirties, with slicked back hair and a tidy mustache, and he was followed by two huge men dressed in black. My first thought was that they must be this man’s bodyguards. My second was that something was very wrong with whatever was happening here.
“Ah, Mr. di Pietro, here you are,” he said with a smile. He had a refined British accent, the kind that made everything he said seem smooth and civilized. “Allow me to introduce myself. I’m Mr. Cavendish.”
I stood up and asked, “Do I know you?”
“No, we’ve never had the pleasure. However, I believe you’re familiar with my employer, Philip Ashcroft.”
That name felt like a punch to the gut. I stepped around Armando’s barstool, putting myself between him and this man.
It took Dante a moment to register what was happening, maybe because he’d had a lot to drink. He leapt to his feet, knocking over his barstool, which hit the floor with a clatter. At that, the men in black pulled two handguns apiece from inside their jackets and pointed them at Dante and me.
