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“Salvatore what’s wrong is I can’t believe Frankie’s gone. I refuse to believe and accept he’s dead. This presence of the bastard who killed him is… I don’t know how I’m keeping my cool but I know I have to be sensible about what I do. What we all do. I don’t want you to have to be pushed into action the way I was.”
I shake my head. “You can’t control that Vincent. You can’t control what happens next. The same as you can’t tell me not to take the reins or want to help.”
“I am,” he answers to my surprise. “I am, brother. If we’re right and we have a rat, the person behind all this is definitely someone I give credit. No ordinary rat can just infiltrate us. It’s not done. That makes them dangerous. Very dangerous to have played a game the way it was played. Means we can’t trust anybody. No one at all. We don’t know who or what their game is. So I’m telling you the same as I told the others. Stay out of it. This isn’t your fight.”
“Not yet. You mean not yet. It wasn’t you Stephanou came to yesterday. It was me and Gabe. We weren’t even at the docks. We were at the booking office. He knew about that. Knew when we left. Means he’s watching.” I put my cigar out and stand. I can’t stay here and accept that I’m to do nothing.
I start to walk off but he calls to me.
“Salvatore, we’re in danger … I put my woman and my child in danger just by being capo. I don’t want you to do the same thing when you don’t have to. If you play the wrong card or make the wrong move they come at you through your weaknesses. Those you love, those close to you. Bear that in mind before you do something stupid.”
I stare at him and release a ragged breath, but I don’t answer. I just walk away leaving him staring after me.
Mimi…She is my weakness but I’m conflicted.
I understand the need to lay low and not get involved. I do.
Gabe and I could have been killed yesterday.
That means we’re already involved.
Already in the game.
No one can tell us that we aren’t.
Chapter Twenty
Mimi
I’ve finally gottento the stage where I’m thinking of menus.
It’s exciting, and exciting to brainstorm my ideas.
I’d decided that I wouldn’t make the restaurant an Italian bistro because I want to have a combination of different dishes from across the world. I want to do all the dishes Mom taught me to make and incorporate them somehow.
Mom was born and raised in Illinois. The same as my grandmother, but my great grandparents were Irish.
I want the restaurant to reflect everything that makes me, me.
I’ve been at the building today doing that and guiding the workmen in the redecoration.
The place is big enough to seat two hundred people and there are two smaller rooms that seat fifty, that can be used for private bookings. I have an office to myself which needs some adjustments and a break room for staff. I couldn’t be happier with the place. If I get business going like I planned for two months’ time, I’ll be looking at making my first fortune by Christmas. I would be so excited. It would be the first time that I would have truly accomplished anything in my life.
I was in the office earlier but decided to come out on the floor and sit behind the bar to make my notes and brainstorm.
It was a good thing I did that too or I probably would have missed the man standing at the door.
Dad.
He was trying to peer through the frosted glass then he started twisting the door handle. It was locked. He couldn’t see me but I could see him.
I could see him and for the first time ever I contemplated not seeing him.
I hadn’t told him about the restaurant yet.
At dinner the other week, I just acted like I’d moved on from the idea. The fact that he’s here clearly means he knows, and he’s gonna know that other than robbing a bank someone just as rich and powerful as him must have helped me.
I’m not in the mood to be bitched at today. I had a plan to focus on the menus then go to my grandmother’s to get the old recipe books Mom had there.
