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“New cook,” Jason remarks, wrinkling his face as he eyes Vito. “Is he any good?”
“Trained by Desmond,” I assure him.
“Doesn’t mean he cooks like Desmond,” he counters.
His skepticism isn’t entirely unwarranted. Desmond might have trained Vito, but emulating the finesse of a seasoned chef like Desmond takes time, and it’s hard to fill those shoes. I note the subtle tension in the air, wondering how much they truly know about the dynamics at play here.
“Give it a shot,” I suggest with an encouraging smile. “You might be pleasantly surprised.”
Jason leans back in the booth, still looking unsure, but he finally nods in agreement. “All right, we’ll trust your recommendation this time.”
As I jot down their orders, my mind races with thoughts about what they might hide or suspect. The events leading up to Sal’s tragic demise and the intricate dynamics within the mafia are like a complex puzzle, each piece holding its secrets. I’ve learned to tread carefully in these matters, and to keep up appearances and maintain a delicate balance between the truth and the shadows around it.
Orders are ready to go, and I head over to Vito. Tatum is nowhere to be seen, so either he told her no and she’s licking her wounds, or he said yes and she is trying not to scream with joy.
“Vito,” I call, hanging the ticket just as the door jingles ominously once again. Giving Tate a break, I turn around to greet the newcomers, only to find that I don’t recognize them—two men in their late forties or early fifties. They look casual enough, but their smiles have a hard, calculated edge. It sends a shiver down my spine.
“Afternoon, gentlemen.” I grab two menus. “Any preference on where you sit?”
“Afternoon,” one greets me. He’s the older of the two and taller, with thinning brown hair and sharp cheekbones that seem to cut the air. “How about that booth in the back? If you wouldn’t mind.”
Desmond’s booth. No local ever asks to sit there.
“You guys from out of town?” I inquire as I lead them to the booth, my senses on high alert. Typically, I wouldn’t seat a local there, but these guys aren’t local, and I honestly don’t want them to question why I don’t want to seat them there. They probably won’t even be here for long anyway.
“We are,” the younger man hedges as he slides into the booth, his expression guarded.
How strange. Desmond clarified that he isn’t allowing anyone in or out of our little town. I’ll have to ask Tate for more information later. For now, I focus on taking their orders. Still, my mind is buzzing with an ominous curiosity and a touch of concern that refuses to be silenced. Something feels deeply wrong, and I can’t quite put my finger on it.
“Just traveling through?” I ask, pulling out my notepad.
“We are,” the older man says, grabbing a menu. “Got some business up north, and we found this cute little town that isn’t even on a map.” He smiles at me, but it feels off somehow.
“Well, what can I get you to drink?” I ask, trying to be as friendly as possible.
“A pot of coffee if you can.” He eyes his friend. “For both of us.”
“No problem.” I slip my notepad into a side pocket and take a step back. “I just made some coffee. Let me go get it.” Without waiting for their reply, I turn to head toward the kitchenette in search of a carafe.
Returning to the coffee station, I notice Tatum standing near the stand of coffee carafes, discreetly observing the men. She’s always been more perceptive in situations like this.
“Who are the suits?” she asks. Her eyes narrow slightly as she glances at me. “Something’s off about them,” she mutters, leaning closer.
“Travelers,” I whisper, answering her question, and grab two carafes—one for my trio and one for the new guys.
“They don’t strike me as regular travelers.” She frowns. “No one travels in suits.”
“I thought Desmond shut the town down,” I whisper and pour as slowly as humanly possible.
“Yeah, but it isn’t like he can just tell everyone to turn back,” she says. “That would be suspicious.”
“Also, they said Lenora isn’t on a map.” I glance at her as I put my tray together. “I could have sworn it was.”
“Nope,” she answers. “Dessi had it removed. Paid someone off, I’m sure.”
“Also, does my trio know about…” I trail off because I’m running out of time. “Youknow.”
“Eh.” She makes a weird noise in the back of her throat. “Not everyone knows the underworld secrets.” She winks at me and takes a deep breath. “I’d say it’s fifty-fifty, and the half that doesn’t know doesn’t care because they love it here.”
