Page 30 of Burn this City

He repeated, “Excuse me, Miss?” He carefully chose a more urgent, insistent tone in the vicinity of “you dropped your wallet”, and that made her stop and look over her shoulder.

Bingo. It was definitely her. She probably weighed no more than a hundred twenty pounds soaking wet.

Sal put on his best smile, and added some “of course I know you, surely you recognize me” to his expression. Bullshitting had to get him past the fact that he had no reason to know her last name or any idea what Barsanti called her. “I do apologize. We have a friend in common—Jack Barsanti.”

She froze, flashed a nervous smile, but it didn’t linger. But she clearly recognized the name. “Oh?”

He’d read that most people formed a first impression in about seven seconds, including whether somebody could be trusted. They were solidly into that short period now, and noticed her gaze zigzagging over him as she assessed whether he was a threat. So he kept his smile in place and adopted a “not a creep” stance.

Sal made a big show of relief. “Sorry, I’m Sal. Jack’s friend.”

She kept her guard up—almost literally, because she drew that gallon of milk toward her chest and the hand with the bread defensively held onto the straps of her shoulder bag. Yeah, this wasn’t working, but he kept his smile up as if he expected her to recognize him, already readying other strategies.

“Jack. Is he okay? He didn’t …” She interrupted herself, and Sal wondered if Barsanti had already given her the Cosa Nostra girlfriend briefing: don’t talk to anybody. If you see anything weird, call me first. The police can’t help you—I’ll handle it.

“He’s had a busy morning. Quite tied up with a few things.” Sal almost laughed.

She gave a weak smile back. “Oh, well.” She clearly wanted to say more, but suppressed it, then looked over her shoulder in the direction of her flat, telegraphing how uncomfortable she was. “Nice to meet you, Sal, was it?”

“Yes.” Now was it Bethany, Beth, Betty or something else entirely? “Sal Tomasi.” Close enough, using Catia’s maiden name.

She kept studying him. “Are you a colleague of his?”

“No, a friend.” He lifted his eyebrows for emphasis.

She grew even paler and then flushed slightly, eyes wide. “Oh my God. Are you his boyfriend?”

The last two syllables were said in such a low voice that Sal needed a second to process the word, but in an impulse—because fuck it, why not—he nodded. “Yes. I am.”

“Oh my God,” she said again, voice shifting into a much higher tonality. She didn’t seem shocked, more surprised. Immediately, her defensiveness broke apart and Sal was relieved. He’d made the correct call, even though his mind was still catching up with the unexpected turn of events. He’d been stalking the prospective girlfriend of one of his enemies, and she thought Sal was his boyfriend?

While she was clearly still off-balance, he pressed his advantage. “And what should I call you?”

“Beth.” She still stared at him and he noticed her shoulders relaxed and her expression eased, which made sense because now he was gay in her eyes. Also, he thought he caught some veiled appreciation for how he looked too. Or maybe she was mentally positioning Jack next to him and decided they fit well together. What the fuck?

Beth. He could easily have chosen wrong multiple times and ruined his approach. With a sigh, he lifted his shoulders and dropped them. “I know it’s probably weird, but maybe we can talk somewhere? Could we grab a coffee, maybe?” He nodded toward a shop that sat on the corner across the road.

“Uhm, sure.” She seemed to only now become aware again of the things she was carrying and stuffed the bread at least into her bag. “But if you don’t mind, maybe we could go to the independent one down the road? The chain place burns their beans really badly, and Jack wouldn’t forgive either of us if we went there, right?”

Based on the Gaggia, Barsanti knew his coffee. “Of course. I figured it was closest. Please.” He stepped to the side, gesturing for her to take the lead.

She did, a bit slower than her prior pace, but she still moved briskly. “Now I only hope we’ll get a table.” She shook her head at herself. “I’ll look like a complete idiot if it’s full and we have to go back to the place of Burnt Beans, right?”

A “complete idiot” for trying to get them decent coffee? Really? “Well, I’m easy. And we don’t have to tell him.”

She pushed through the door and a delicious waft of coffee and carby baking fumes from the waffle maker on the counter, welcomed them. She nodded toward the back where one table was being vacated. “I’ll grab that one.”

“Great. What can I get you?”

“A latte and a waffle, maybe?”

“You got it.” He watched her navigate around the departing patrons and claim the table, while a girl wearing an apron and a dozen facial piercings cleaned away the cups and plates.

Sal then waited for a couple of takeaway customers to put in their orders before he asked for two lattes and two waffles, paid, and was assured he’d be served at the table. Of course, the whole interlude gave Beth time to relax and maybe question what it was he wanted from her. If he got nothing out of this but her phone number and being able to establish a relationship he could exploit later, that could still count as a win. Apart from that, discovering Jack was gay opened up a whole new dimension.

He joined her and glanced around as if to take in the surroundings, before he focused on her. “Didn’t know this place existed,” he admitted. It definitely hadn’t been on his radar as anything more than a hangout of college students, but the patrons seemed more diverse, from shoppers having a break to middle-aged friends meeting for a catch-up.

“Best coffee and waffles and ice cream within walking distance for me.” She was clearly pleased that he seemed to like it. “So, wow. You’re the only one of Jack’s friends I’ve ever met.”

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