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She squinted her eyes at me before saying, “Maybe for you, but it’s not for me since my family owns this restaurant.”
Well, shit I didn’t expect to hear that. Fuck! This is information I should have known before coming here. My IT guy is so fucking fired after this.
“Sydney, who are you talking to?” the man asks before turning in his seat to look at us.
Double fuck! I know this man. He’s one of the brothers my father used to do business with.
He stares at me as if he’s trying to recognize me. “Do I know you?”
I look like my daddy, so I know it won’t take him long to put two and two together.
“You knew my father, Tommaso DeLuca, sir. I’m Domencio DeLuca,” I inform.
His eyes widened with acknowledgement. He pushes his chair back, then stands. He extends his hand out to me, saying, “Tommaso was a good business associate and friend to me. Unfortunately, after I ended our business relationship, we lost touch. How is he doing?”
Shaking his hand, I reply, “Enjoying retirement while hitting up every golf course in New Orleans.”
The man chuckles, then says, “I’m sorry...I’m Clinton Morgan and this is my wife Rachel and my daughter Sydney, but it seems like the two of you already know each other.”
“Nice to meet you, ma’am,” I told Mrs. Morgan.
She smiles, returning, “Likewise, and who is this gentleman with you?”
“This is my best friend and business associate, Batista Rengould.”
“Nice to meet you all,” he says, shaking Mr. Morgan’s hand.
“You too,” Mr. Morgan returns. “Well, since the two of you are here to eat, why don’t you join us?”
Sydney frowns, arguing, “Daddy, I’m sure they would like their own table. Plus, this is our family time.”
Mr. Morgan waves her off, “Nonsense, we haven’t ordered yet. Please, gentlemen have a seat.”
Sydney narrows her eyes at me as she slowly shakes her head from side to side. Did she really think I was going to pass up the invitation?
With a mega grin on my face, I state, “Thank you, sir. We would love to.”
Sydney rolls her eyes as I pull out the chair on the left of her, then sit so close our shoulders are almost touching. Batista sits to her right.
Mr. Morgan signals for a waiter. When she comes to the table, he tells her, “Jaden, please bring two more menus.” He then asks Batista and me, “What can she get you two to drink?”
“I’ll have an iced tea with lemon,” I reply. Jaden writes it down.
“I’ll have the same,” Batista says.
“Okay, let me get your menus first, then your drinks,” Jaden states before leaving the table.
“Thank you,” Batista and I echo.
I can feel the tension radiating off Sydney. I find it quite amusing. Where’s the tough as nails woman from last night who didn’t hesitate to shoot a man.
“So, tell me Domencio how do you and Sydney know each other?” Mr. Morgan asks.
Jaden appears just in time to hand Batista and I our menus. Sitting mine on the table, I inform Mr. Morgan, “Ms. Morgan and I met at my casino, Blue Bayou.”
“Why so formal? Call her Sydney,” Mr. Morgan says. Sydney’s eyes roll again with irritation.
“Thank you, sir. I will.”
