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I felt like an idiot. Maybe I had gotten her all wrong. “So an afternoon in Rockefeller Center -”
She grabbed my arm. “An afternoon in Rockefeller Center with you sounds like Heaven.”
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WE WALKED FOR HOURS. In and out of shops, a visit to the Top of the Rock, and Suzanne’s new favorite, The Channel Gardens.
“If you think this is beautiful, I’ll bring you back for the tree lighting,” I said, circling my arms around her as she stood in front of one of the fountains. I didn’t care if anyone watched or disliked my public display of affection; I kissed her cheek anyway, because that was what I fucking wanted to do.
She leaned against me and tipped her head backward to look into my eyes. “Is that a promise?”
I expected panic to arise at the mention of the word ‘promise,’ but with an unexpected calmness, I answered, “Yes,” even though I doubted she’d still be speaking to me by the time the Christmas tree was lit in Rockefeller Center.
I didn’t want to dwell on it. Instead, I changed the subject. “What do you want for lunch?”
“You might think I’m crazy.”
“I doubt it. There are dozens of restaurants within walking distance. We can have anything you want.”
“Well, since we’re doing the touristy thing and we’re going out to dinner tonight, I’m kinda thinking I want a hot dog.”
I blinked. “Just a hot dog?”
“No. Notjusta hot dog. The quintessential NYC, right out-of-the-cart hot dog. The kind of junk food that oozes the Big Apple experience.”
She was so excited at the thought of eating a hot dog, I couldn’t disappoint her, but if authentic New York was what she was looking for, I could do better than a hot dog cart.
“So what you’re saying is you want some authentic New York City cuisine.”
“Sure, if hot dogs are considered cuisine.” She giggled.
“Forget the hot dog. I have something better in mind.” I tugged her hand and pulled her away from the fountain.
“Where are we going?” She ran a few steps to keep up with me.
“To get some of the best food in New York City. Arthur Avenue, sweetheart.”
If Andre had been there, he would have tried to stop me.
Somebody should have.
I was borrowing trouble, hoping no one would recognize me. Blending in with the tourists at Rockefeller Center was one thing; taking Suzanne to lunch on Arthur’s Avenue was poking the bear. This was the heartbeat of Italian culture in America. If I would be recognized anywhere in the city, it’d be there. It was still unlikely, especially at lunch time, that anyone who knew me would hang out at a local restaurant so early on a Saturday afternoon, but it was still possible.
Suzanne didn’t question me when I got my ball cap out of the trunk. I was about to commit a crime - wearing my hat at the table, but I had to do something to minimize the risk.
I was a fool, led by her smile and my desire. Sharing something personal with her took precedent over my safety. I wasn’t even packing when I walked through Pop’s door. I left my gun in the glove box. It was there if I needed it but not exactly close at hand. Vulnerability wasn’t something I was used to. My father had always had plans for me. I didn’t know what it was like to be completely alone.
The aroma hit you in the face as soon as you arrived. My mouth started watering the second the door closed behind us. Every Italian cell in my body roared to life at the smell of fresh-baked bread and authentic Italian spices. Nobody made sauce like Pop did.
I scanned the restaurant as we waited to be seated. The place was packed with families eating pizza for lunch, not made men or earners looking for a place to hang out. I spied an empty table in the corner, tucked out of the way behind the jukebox. It was the perfect place to hide in plain sight. I breathed a little easier knowing I was there with the family crowd, not the after dark bunch, but I still needed to be aware.
Then again, Pop’s wasn’t known for being a mob hangout. This was Romano’s old territory, but he’d moved out of the old hangouts years ago. For acapo dei capi, Romano had an odd sense of propriety when it came to running his business. He had lines he didn’t cross; ruining the businesses of the families in his neighborhood was one of them. Breaking the code of silence apparently was not.
But Romano was gone now. His family was in disarray. The damage was substantial. He lit a fucking fire then walked away while it burned. I had no respect for that. He checked out without leaving behind a clear successor to his throne. Much of his previous territories were in dispute. I only hoped his presence on Arthur Avenue had long since evaporated.
Finally, the waitress came to show us to our seats. I asked for the table by the jukebox, and she accommodated my request. She laid two menus on the table, took our drink order - Suzanne ordered an iced tea and I ordered a beer - and said she’d be back in a few minutes to take our meal order.
Suzanne pushed the menu away. “You’ve been here before. I’ll let you choose.”
