AllFreeNovel
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Retreating to the sanctuary of the bathrooms I eye the damage in the mirror. It really does look like nothing, a bare trickle of blood, although I suspect there’ll be a good bruise where the silly bastard’s skull cracked into mine. It could have been serious. Classically, a side-punch is how boxers go for a knock-out, but Loudmouth wasn’t sober enough to deliver anything properly.
A drink, then go get my head down for an hour or so…
The splash of cold water over my face helps. Gulping a mouthful and rinsing out my mouth helps more.
I breathe in. Huff out. Straighten my jacket and head out…
… and all but walk into a black-jacketed waiter with a domed silver platter balanced on a palm. He veers, steering around me, “Scusi, signore.”
“My fault…” I don’t recognise him. “Um…?”
“Guiseppe, sir,” He flashes a smile and continues on to the dining room.
At least Emilio’s evening should be improving…
From behind the bar, Franco gives me a sympathetic smile and without asking, slides a beer across. Half a minute later, a chaser sits beside it. His boss joins me, pulling up a stool beside me. “Grazie, Signor Hickman. We could not have…”
“Forget it, Emilio. It really was nothing. It’s what I do. What they pay me for.”
“Okay. But what you want now, it on the house. Si?”
“Si...” I tilt my glass toward him. “… Thank you.”
“The lasagna… It very good today…” He cocks a questioning brow.
Surrendering to the inevitable, “I’ll have the lasagna, then.” He beams, rotates, then trots through to the kitchen.
In under five minutes, Rodricco trots out, a tray in hand, setting it on the bar in front of me. “I’d give you a table, Hickman, but as you can see, we’re full…”
“Chill out. They don’t pay the prices you charge here to sit next to the hired help.” I fork up noodles and sauce, then blow air as my tongue scorches. A gulp of beer quenches the flames.
Emilio slaps a palm on my shoulder. “Good, yes?”
“Very good. Yes.” He beams again… “Ah, scusi…” … then follows an upraised hand from one of the diners.
Rodricco tops up my beer then, reaching under the counter, produces a jar of peanuts and a small bowl. “You made the old man’s night. He’d have been like a bear with a sore head if you’d not let him feed you. He’d already had a bad start to the evening, what with Guiseppe not showing up.”
I fork up more lasagna. “Well, at least that’s sorted itself out.”
“Sorry?”
“Guiseppe’s here now…”
Tipping nuts in the bowl, Rodricco pauses, mid-movement. “He is?”
“Sure. I met him as I was coming out of the bathroom.”
Brows beetling, he slides the bowl of nuts to me. “You sure?”
“Sure I’m sure. He’s over there…” I nod across to where Guiseppe, tray in hand, is weaving between tables toward Romano…
Rodricco’s expression precedes his words. “That’s not Guiseppe…”
‘Guiseppe’s’ hand shifts for the dome. The smallest of movements. No one would notice except…
I'm paid to notice.
And I’m already moving, charging across the floor... “Katya! Down!”
