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“Yes, it’s true,” my father says. “That whole business down at Key West has been bad for everyone.” He puts his hands together, bouncing his finger lightly. “But maybe there are some fortunate things that can come of it.”
“I was hoping for the same too,” Tommy says, pulling the seat out for his daughter, and only seating himself once she practically collapses into hers. Her eyes haven’t left me now. They’re full of fear and dread. I tell myself not to pity her and only remember the bodies I had to have disposed of because of her.
There’s a quiet for a few beats in which I feel no one knows what to say.
But it’s my father who speaks first. “I think Judy and Martha used to start with the champagne,” he says, picking up the drinks menu and reading it.
“Yes, always raved about it,” Tommy replies, reading the same menu.
Sophie and I exchange looks again. A feeling in my chest swells. I feel like I should roar like a fucking lion. “Wait, hold up,” I say, putting my hands up. “How do you two know each other so well? Why’re you so chummy? And how did Ma know Martha?” I’m looking between them and yet everyone is looking atmelike I’m the crazy one.
“Lucas, you can sit down,” my father says.
Only then do I realize that I’ve stood up in my little speech. I sit down,likesome child. “I mean, this is all a very nice and happy reunion. But,” I pause, erring on the words I’m meant to say.
It’s Tommy who speaks, a small smile on his face. “We’re meant to fucking hate each other? We’re meant to shoot each other on sight? Had the guards in the club known that it was a Russo they were letting in, I doubt my little Sophie would’ve got home …?”
I’m speechless. But not from shock, becausehe’s right.
“See the thing is this,” my father says. “No one knows this, but this restaurant is neutral ground for our families. That's why I bought it.”
“What do you mean you bought it for neutral ground?” I blurt. “You bought it cause Ma liked the lobster bisque?”
“Why do you think she liked the lobster bisque?” Tommy says, a smile on his lips like a fucking hyena with a secret.
Even with all this, everyone is still looking at me like I’m insane.
“I’ve missed something here,” I say, shaking my head and folding my arms.
“You were right,” Tommy says to my father. “It is fun to stir him up.”
My rage boils quickly and my face turns livid.
“Like a fucking tomato,” Tommy finishes, his face split with a toothy smile.
Suddenly my rage turns to embarrassment and I see Sophie giving me puppy dog eyes. It’s all a fucking sham. My father places a hand on my shoulder but I spurn him off.
“Lucas, your mother and Martha were friends. They were friends before they knew either of us. Before she married me she worked in a shelter for women. One night in comes this lovely lady in distress. She’s a refugee after the whole Cuban crisis. Came over with her husband, etcetera,” my father waves his hand like I should know this history. “But he used to beat her to within an inch of her life.” Sophie is looking down at the table, Tommy is staring me in the eyes. “Can I continue Thomas?” my father asks. He nods his consent.
“Well, one night she’d had enough. She got out. Came to the shelter and sought refuge. Your mother was there, and she held him back from getting through the door. A few of the women did. They were doing well until he went properly ballistic. Martha offered to give herself up to protect the other girls, but one of the other volunteers had called in her brother.”
“Me,” Tommy says, and his face is grim. “Fourth and Wessock was a place our family had owned from the very beginning. Just a place to lay roots.”
“It’s that big warehouse now. You guys move mattresses out of there, I believe,” I say.
Tommy grins. “He’s a sharp one. You’re right,” he says to my father, who nods. “But back then it was a refuge. Anyway, we rock up and this guy is going ape shit. Nutso and won’t stop swearing. He finally pulls a knife on me though. Needless to say, his hand got broken. The story goes on, but this doesn’t matter so much. Regardless though, I’d met Martha and we started going out.”
“Martha and your mother stayed friends,” my father continues. “Despite her having met me too.”
“And you all knew you were each other?” I ask incredulously.
Both men nod. “Oh sure, we had to argue with our parents,” my father says. “A Colombino will put one in your back.”
“A Russo will dig out your eyes.”Tommy says.
“But had it been anyone else?” both men say together, wagging their fingers. They start laughing.
Sophie and I look at each other like this is the weirdest joke that’s ever been played on us.
