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“Losing men happens,” he says.
I know he’s been in similar situations before. When I was growing up and my father was Underboss, there were many years of all-out war. The chaos I’m facing almost seems trivial compared to what it used to be. And that pisses me off even more. My father made it through those times. Why should this be any harder?
“I should have been able to protect my men,” I say.
“You can’t protect everyone,” he says. “You can only try.”
I know my father cares. But I’m not used to him showing it. I’d rather not have this conversation with him. He probably feels the same way.
We sit in silence again both watching another person walk by with their dogs toward the off-leash area.
I think about when the van pulled up outside the courthouse. I instinctively tried to protect Klein, even though I barely know her. Where did that come from? Years and years of regret over not being able to save my mother? I don’t know.
Then I think about someone else we recently lost.
“Do you really not care that Luca has disappeared?” I ask my father.
He glances sideways at me.
“Of course, I care,” my father says.
“Don’t you worry about him?” I ask.
“I would be relieved to find out that he’s okay,” my father says. “If something happened\ to him, we can’t change that. If someone did something to him, we’ll make them pay. But if he decided to leave… I believe he’ll have had his reasons.”
“Hm,” I grunt back. My father seems a lot more comfortable letting people go than I feel like I could ever be.
“Your Uncle Leo would have a different opinion,” my father adds. “It’s probably better for Luca if we don’t find him…”
I recognize the predicament my father is in. It’s the same situation I’m in. If Luca is out there and if we found him, we wouldn’t be able to let him go unpunished. Leo isn’t looking for Luca because he doesn’t care about him. My father isn’t looking for Luca because he doesn’t want to deal with finding him. Either way, I don’t know how they can move forward so quickly. I wish I could follow their lead. But the lack of closure haunts me.
“We should head back,” my father says. He stands from the bench and we walk back toward the restaurant where his car is parked and where Riccardo is waiting for me.
There’s a lot left unsaid between my father and me. There’s things he has never shared and things I know I could never ask him.
11
KLEIN
Mateo agreedto meet for dinner at Little Nana’s on Friday. He asked if I needed a ride, but I told him I’d meet him there. It’s only one block over from my apartment, even closer than Winkel, where Andre and I had brunch the other day.
It feels like I’m getting ready for a date. But it’s not a date. More of a business dinner. I want to ask Mateo what he knows about Gina. The last time I saw her was in an alleyway when she was kidnapped. I’ve tried emailing her and calling her, but there’s no response. I’d try going by where she lives, but I don’t know where that is since she moved out of her parents’ house. I’ve asked Nicoletti if he’s heard from his daughter. He was just dismissive and evasive.
I’m pretty sure some gang was involved in kidnapping her. I’ve no idea who, but I’m starting to wonder if it’s the same people who attacked us outside the courthouse. Both times they came up in a white van. The DA has plenty of enemies that would want to use his daughter.
If Mateo has anything to do with Gina’s disappearance, maybe I can convince him that she’s of no help getting to DA Nicoletti. I don’t really think he was involved in it, but if he wasn’t, he may know who else to suspect.
It’s not a date, but I still feel the need to dress up. I’ve never seen Mateo in anything less than dress pants and a button-down shirt. Well, except when we were in the VIP area at Sinners. But I know he’s probably going to be dressed nicely even though it’s not a date. Little Nana’s has the kind of atmosphere where you could dress up or down and not feel out of place.
I decide to wear all black. A long-sleeved silk dress shirt and cigarette pants with a leather belt and strappy heels. I don’t know exactly, but I feel like Mateo might like it. But it’s not a date. I roll up the sleeves of the shirt and unbutton a couple buttons on the top, lower than I’d ever do for work. Finally, I put on my grandmother’s silver solitaire necklace. She said it always brought her luck, and I could use some of that.
It takes me longer to get down the elevator from my apartment and to the front door than it takes for me to walk to Little Nana’s. We’re almost at the longest days of the year and the sun won’t set for another hour. Still, the evening has cooled a little after the daytime heat, and it’s a comfortable walk.
When I cross Locust Street, I see Mateo already sitting at a small table outside the restaurant. As I predicted, he did dress up, though it’s slightly more casual than his usual business style. He’s wearing a navy suit. But instead of a dress shirt and shoes, he’s wearing a fitted black t-shirt and clean, white low-top sneakers. He looks damn good, and I’m glad I have a few seconds to pull my thoughts together before I have to speak to him.
He stands to greet me as I arrive. I notice Mateo’s quick glances as he checks me out. Subtle, not obvious. He probably doesn’t even think I noticed.
“Do you mind sitting outside?” he asks.
