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“We can negotiate a percentage later.” He tells me as he slings a heavy arm over my shoulder.
Inside it's dark and cosy. The wood-panelled walls are covered in photos. Some old, some newer. It’s not a big place but the atmosphere is warm and inviting. Soft Italian dinner music plays through the speakers. It’s the most stereotypical American-Italian restaurant I think I’ve ever seen.
A tall man with a big belly and greying dark hair is behind the counter with a teenage boy pointing to the cash register and saying something I can't hear. He slaps the back of the boy's head lightly and the boy rolls his eyes before disappearing through a door behind the bar. The older man spots Enzo and grins, wiping his hands on his apron. He welcomes Enzo with a handshake and a hug, a big warm-looking hug. One you’d expect of your grandad.
“Casimira, this is Gio, my uncle.”
Gio surprisingly gives me the same welcoming hug which kind of makes me miss my family. That's the type of hug you can only get from family. “Casimira, beautiful name for a beautiful woman.” He says in a heavier accent than Enzo.
“Don't, you’ll make my head too big.” I slap the air. “It smells amazing in here,” I tell him because my mouth is actually watering at what's wafting from the kitchen. I haven’t eaten since like 12 and it's nearing 5:30 pm. I've usually had at least 3 snacks by now plus dinner, if I don’t get some food in my stomach now I’m going to pass out or die of starvation. I'm not sure what comes first.
“Now you’ll make my head too big.” He laughs. “Here, come. Sit, There’s the booth over by the window.” He leads us over and I slide into the booth. “Your brothers will be in any second.” He says as Enzo slides in opposite me. Enzo rolls his eyes and Gio’s mouth lifts into an amused smile. He wipes a cloth over the table and starts striding back to the kitchen. “Let me get you some bread and drinks for the table.”
I turn back to Enzo catching his aggravated expression. “Everything okay?”
He nods. “Yeah, I just didn’t realise my brothers would be here.” He relaxes back into his seat, his hand resting on the table spinning his ring around his pinky with his thumb. “Forewarning, they’re a lot.”
That should probably make me nervous but it doesn't. Enzo makes me nervous though. Not in a bad way but for me it's quite unsettling. I'm used to always feeling in control of myself but with him, he seems to take that role naturally. Usually, I wouldn’t like it but it’s kind of thrilling.
“I’ll keep that in mind.” Just as I say that, three men walk into the restaurant and it's quite clear they’re all brothers. I mean, what is in their genes? Are their parents models? Seriously, what was in the water around here?
I recognise the one in front from the club the other night. You couldn’t not with a scar like that. He has a Chelsea grin on one side of his face. A scar curving from the corner of his mouth up to his cheekbone. He still looks like he just walked off a photo shoot for Prada. He's a thinner build than Enzo, maybe a couple of inches shorter. Different nose. Enzos is broader. The same light brown skin but covered in tattoos with wild black curls and deeply cold grey eyes.
“What a nice surprise.” He says, his tone dripping in sarcasm as he b-lines for the table with the other two trailing behind him.
Enzo leans back on the bench draping his arm over the side. “I thought you all had shit to do?”
The youngest one chimes in, “We're just stopping in to grab something to eat before we head over to Euphoria.” He’s clearly a teenager. Even though he’s at least 6”2. My eyes coast over his outfit and I mentally nod in appreciation. His brothers both wear a shirt and trousers but he's wearing gold Gucci sunglasses, a linen shirt with matching printed shorts and red Nike dunks. He looks just like the picture I saw of Enzo when he was much younger. The same brown eyes but more youthful, not quite as intense. The same dark brown hair except it's much longer and hangs into his eyes.
The young one slides in next to me on the bench, taking my hand in his. “And who is this?” The big smile on his face kind of reminds me of a puppy.
“Oh, you’re staying are you?” Enzo asks as Luca proceeds to sit himself next to Enzo and The big one drags a chair over from an opposite table. I feel like that chair looks way too small for him, like not structurally stable. He's massive to put it simply. A little taller than the tattooed one from the club. Much bulkier. Dark hair cut close to the scalp, square jaw and eyes so dark they look black.
“You haven't introduced us.” The young one tells him seriously, pulling my hand closer still.
Enzo tilts his head, face the picture of boredom. “B, just because you are my brother does not mean I won’t shoot you in your hand If you don’t take it away right now.” I glance from him to his little brother, almost frozen as I wait for what's next.
“I'm just being polite,” He says with a devilish grin but drops my hand.
“Yeah, we all know what happens when you’re trying to be polite. You little sex maniac.” The giant half grunts smacking him upside the head. I catch Enzo from the corner of my eye trying to suppress a laugh. “Casimira you have the unfortunate displeasure of meeting my brothers. Mr fucking touchy-feely is Benny.” Benny winks at me. “You’ve already briefly met Luca.” I smile but Luca’s face doesn't move. His eyes seem to look deeper than the surface, behind the walls you've carefully erected. It’s unnerving. “And the big guy is Raff.” Raff nods.
“You guys could make a basketball team with a few more siblings.” I'm good in awkward situations because of my lack of filter. Whatever comes to my brain falls from my mouth so silence is never a problem.
Enzo lets out a quiet laugh that’s more of a breath
“All the men in our family are tall, the gene never dies out apparently,” Luca says. He raps his blacked-out tattooed knuckles against the table, his eyes still focused on me like he's drawing a mental picture of me. I don’t shy away even though I want to.
“Wait, what accent is that?” Benny asks, turning to me.
Before I can answer, Gio comes over a tray with drinks, the most amazing smelling bread and two plastic bags full of take-out boxes hanging off his arms. Raff takes the trays from his hands, placing them on the table. I look at Enzo, who is staring out the window with a concerned look on his face.
His eyes go wide and he jumps to his feet shouting, “GET DOWN!” Before I can even comprehend what’s happening, shots ring out in quick succession shattering the glass we’re sitting right next to.
Someone’s thrown the wooden table on its side against the window as a makeshift shield.
I’ve just managed to crouch down and put my hand over my head, still sitting on the bench when strong hands grab me and throw me to the tiled floor. My heart is pumping so hard I'm sure you can see it through my shirt like in that scene in Jim Carey’s: The Mask. I can hear my blood rushing in my ears and my eyes are squeezed tightly shut. All I’ve got tethering me to reality is the cold tiles beneath my fingers and the heavy warm weight pressing me down.
The shots seem to go on forever but in reality, it can't be more than 30/40 seconds. My ears are still ringing painfully as Enzo pulls me up from under him. He's got one hand at the nape of my neck, the other is checking my body for injuries. His lips are moving but I can't make out words. All I can hear is a sharp ringing and then like someone has flipped a switch my hearing snaps back. “You’re good, you’re okay” His eyes look almost black, no hazel left in the iris. It takes me a second to remember how to speak. I feel like I've lost all motor skills. I look to everyone else to make sure nobody was shot, Enzo’s got a few cuts across his arms and face, and so has Raff from the glass shards.
