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I nod. Maybe I do need to cut myself some slack. It’s been a hell of a week.
“You’ve worked hard to get where you are,” Andre tells me. “I believe in you. You’ll figure out what the right thing is and do it. You always do.”
I put my glass down on the counter and walk around to Andre. He gets up and I give him a hug. He’s been such a good friend to me all these years.
I pick up the bottle of pinot noir we opened and refill both our glasses.
“Thanks for listening,” I tell him.
“I’m glad you’re talking about it,” he replies.
I do feel better having gotten to talk about it. I still wish it never happened, even though I got off easily compared to others. Like it was a bad dream that will fade away throughout the day. But it no longer feels like the weight of the experience is entirely on my shoulders. It’s weird how just saying things out loud can change things.
“What happens next?” Andre asks.
“I don’t know,” I shrug. “The DA is leading an investigation, but I don’t think there are any leads right now.”
Andre nods. His brows furrowed and his mouth twisted, like if he thinks hard enough he might figure out who was behind the attack.
“I’m meeting Mateo for dinner Friday night,” I say. “I’ll see if he’s found anything out.”
“What?!” Andre’s eyebrows lift in surprise. He looks about ready to laugh. “You’re meeting withhim? Is that safe?”
I try to keep the corners of my mouth from twitching up. “It’s safe,” I assure him. “He’s the one who protected me at the courthouse.”
Andre’s face is frozen as he thinks. Finally, he nods and takes another drink from his glass. Then he looks at me out of the side of his eye.
“What’s going on between you two?”
“Nothing,” I reply. I take another sip, hoping to hide my blush behind the glass.
10
MATEO
I meetmy father at all’Arrabbiata, an Italian restaurant in Queen Village. It’s early in the day, and unfortunately we’re not there to eat. The restaurant is owned by Ciro Boncaldo. Tony’s here, too. We’ve come to pay our respects, show our thanks, and also give our word that what happened to Tony doesn’t go unpunished.
Ciro and my father have known each other since they were kids. The Boncaldos are our family. I can tell that Ciro doesn’t hold us responsible for what happened. But he wants revenge just as much as Enzo. Unfortunately, I still have no idea who we need to make pay for Tony’s death.
When I get outside it takes time for my eyes to adjust to the bright sun.
“Do you have a minute?” my father asks.
I nod, wondering what he wants to talk about.
We walk across the street to Mario Lanza Park in silence. Seeming to read each other’s thoughts, we both head to a bench under a tree, and I sit down next to him. We’re both dressed formally, as if we had actually come from Tony’s funeral. I lean forward to rest my elbows on my knees, waiting for him to begin.
“How are you doing?” he asks.
I turn to look at him.
“What do you mean?”
“It’s been a tough few weeks. How are you dealing with it?”
I turn my head back to look out at the park. A young couple walks past us on their way to the dog run, their large black labradoodlestraining against its leash excitedly.
“Hmm,” I grunt.
