Page 21 of Above ’N’ Beyond

An hour later, Paola stood. Meeting over. No preamble, no flowery etiquette. Just over, and Jamie got it. She was a powerful businesswoman, of sorts. Her time was valuable, and she wasn’t about to waste it. Before leaving, she whispered something in Tony’s ear, then she was gone.

Tony grabbed Jamie’s arm. “Fist, my mother likes you. You just got something from her no new guy ever has.”

“Yeah, what’s that?”

“A dinner invitation. Sunday night at her place.” Tony grinned, then jabbed a finger at Jamie’s chest. “After the big raid a few years ago, our numbers are down. Way down, and she wants to rebuild. But you gotta impress her, so impress. Bring good ideas to the table. No humps allowed. Understand?”

Jamie nodded. “Understood.” A hump was a non-producer. Humps didn’t last long.

Tony stood, adding, “You said you had a dog. Bring him along. Ma likes dogs.”

He followed Tony out and watched Paola’s entourage leave. From behind the bar, Bella threw him a rag that he snagged from the air just before it smacked into his face. “Your nose is brown. You might want to wipe it off.”

Jamie frowned. “I’m a lot of things, but I’m no ass kisser.”

In return, she pursed her lips. “We’ll see about that.”

Today was Friday. In less than two days, he had to come up with a money-making scam. Being no stranger to Mafia protocol, he’d figured on that. Just not quite so soon.

He glanced at his watch. The people he needed to contact were back on duty tomorrow. Tonight, he’d do a little more surveillance of the area, then first thing in the morning, he’d make some calls.

His next move was critical, one that could make or break his standing in the Mancuso Crime Family. It would either get him a solid foot in the door, or get his foot cut off.

Literally.

Chapter Seven

Bella pushed through the Bistro’s front door, then began speed walking. Last night, she’d set up a milk crate in her kitchen for her new dog, and this morning she’d carried him back to the crate she’d left in the Bistro closet.

Keeping a dog in a restaurant violated half a dozen county health codes, but no health inspector who valued their life would dare cite her or the Bistro. Not with Paola Mancuso’s name on the deed.

On Saturdays, the bank closed at two o’clock. She barely had ten minutes to get there and make her deposit before they locked up for the rest of the weekend. Taking care of the dog, who still didn’t have a name, had taken up most of her morning, and she still had to give the little guy a bath and make a vet appointment.

She rounded the corner and headed north on Broadway, gripping the zippered pouch tighter in her hand. The sun was shining brightly, the temps soaring well into the eighties, and she was already sweating like a racehorse.

“Hi, Bella!” Lacey, owner of the antique store on the corner, called out.

Bella waved back. This was one of many things she loved about Nyack. There was a real sense of community here, and all the shop owners supported each other.

She picked up her pace. Jimmy wasn’t due in until five to work the bar, so Sierra was covering it while Bella did the bank run. She didn’t even know where he’d gone last night after the Bistro had closed. The apartment lights were off when she’d gotten home, and his SUV wasn’t there. Not that it was her business what the guy did or where he went after closing.

Breathing harder now, she drew in scents from the Thai restaurant around the corner and picked up her pace. Man, she was out of shape. Even a fast walk left her winded. Tomorrow morning, she’d force herself to do another run around the lake. It was so not fair guys like Jimmy Santoro could eat as much pasta as they wanted and still look fit as a fiddle and with muscles popping out all over the place.

She looked both ways, then crossed the street. When she’d first thought Jimmy had skipped out on his shift yesterday, she’d been furious and yet not surprised. He was a mobster, and mobsters couldn’t be trusted. That’s why hiring him went against all her rules about having none of them on her staff or in her personal life. When he’d returned bearing doggie gifts, however, she’d nearly fainted from shock at his thoughtfulness.

Bella stepped onto the sidewalk. The shock had deepened when she’d opened the plastic bag to find it contained a small bag of kibble, flea and tick shampoo, and a brush. But would Jimmy show up for his shift tonight? It wouldn’t surprise her if he didn’t, again begging the question: if she had so little faith in him, why had she hired him in the first place?

As she pulled open the bank’s door, she honestly didn’t know. Not for sure. Like Tony and the others, he’d done time in a state prison. Not exactly a model citizen, yet there was something different about him.

Blessedly cool air hit her as she went inside. Luckily, there was only one customer ahead of her. Bella tapped the pouch against the side of her leg. The clock on the wall hit two o’clock just as the teller, Misty Morris, whom Bella knew well, finished with the other customer. Misty had dated Tony, in one capacity or another, for over a year. They’d only broken up about three months ago.

“Hi, Misty.” She unzipped the pouch and pulled out a wad of cash and a deposit slip already filled out. “Can you squeeze me in?”

“Of course.” Misty reached for the pile of cash. “Do you need a balance on the receipt?”

“Yes, please.” That was another sore spot in her ever-deteriorating relationship with Paola. The books.

When Bianco’s Bistro had first opened, Bella carefully tallied every penny spent on the place, then one day, the digital books mysteriously disappeared. When Bella had confronted her aunt, Paola had sweetly said she had an accountant who would monitor the Bistro’s books en gratis, thereby freeing Bella up to focus solely on running things. Then she’d begun to suspect the truth.