10
GETTING CLOSER
TEDDY
Teddy entered Santini Ristorante and exhaled the tension running the length of his broad shoulders. Their family’s eatery was his happy place. The hostess stand stood empty. The dining room was still plenty full, as was the bar. A quick sweep of the room told him things were running smoothly.
On his way through the restaurant, he paused to say hello to a couple who came in every week, checked to make sure they were enjoying their entrées. After greeting several more guests, he continued on to the kitchen to speak with his chefs. All good there.
Was the universe turning in his favor?
Next, he synced-up with his lead waitstaff. “You might want to check on Tara. She was okay until that man came in.” She gestured toward the bar.
To Teddy’s surprise, Tara was sitting at the bar next to someone who—from the back—looked like a poker buddy of his.
He walked behind the bar to first check on his bartenders.
“We’re running low on top-shelf tequila,” said his head bartender. “I’ll grab a few bottles from the back, if you don’t mind fillin’ in.”
“Sure, go ahead,” Teddy said.
As Teddy made his way down the bar checking on his customers, he stopped in front of Tara. She was clutching a damp tissue, her eyes and nose red from crying.
“Hey, Tank,” said the man as he thrust out his hand. “It’s been a hot minute.”
The man was his occasional poker pal, Burt Goodson. He shook his hand, glanced back at his floor manager. “Tara, what’s going on?”
Rueful eyes stared up at him. “Hollywood was murdered.”
Crafty Lamar’s lifeless body popped into his thoughts.
“I’m sorry to hear that.” He glanced at Burt. “What’s the connection?”
“Hollywood and I were friends,” Burt explained. “I wanted to tell Tara, myself.”
“Tara, why don’t you take off,” Teddy suggested.
“Thanks, boss.” She scrambled off the stool, hugged Burt. “I appreciate you telling me in person.”
“Of course,” Burt said. “You’ve got my number. Call for any reason.”
She hurried toward the front door.
“I haven’t seen you in a while,” Teddy said.
“Been doing some traveling for work,” Burt said. “When did you start working here?”
Short, with a thick physique, Burt had let his hair grow long. The men had met through a mutual poker friend and had played Texas hold ‘em a handful of times.
“Santini Ristorante is my family’s restaurant,” Teddy said.
Burt’s eyes widened. “No joke? I didn’t know you’re a Santini. That carries a lot of weight, especially in Italy.”
It carries a lot of weight here too.
“I knew a few guys who said the Santini name is still associated with—” He did air quotes with his fingers—'the Family’.”
“Cosa Nostra,” Teddy said, knowing full well that his grandfather had run the Sicilian Mafia for decades.
