Page 50 of Bitter Poetry
“Boss wants a meeting.”
“And you didn’t think to mention it?” I’m not in the mood for Ettore today. I might just go ahead and off the fucker, consequences be damned.
“You were too busy eyeballing Leon’s woman just to fuck with him when I got the call.”
I grin. “How do you know I was doing it to fuck with him? She’s hot. What’s not to like?”
“We both know she’s not your type, mate. You don’t usually go for brains. Also, Leon is a dangerous man. Don’t fuck with him on this.”
“So you’re admitting something is going on…” My brows pull together. “Why is Leon dangerous? Something happen that I should know about?”
“You’re such a nosy fucker,” he mutters without heat. “He’s working for your brother because it fits his own agenda. But Leon Barone is a hell of a lot more than a club manager.”
“He’s been living on a yacht for three fucking years.”
I get another eye roll for that.
“Making connections. You still have family in Italy, don’t you?”
“Does Dante know?”
“Unless he’s stupid, which he’s not, then yes, he knows.”
“Alright then.” I feel irritable. “Can we at least stop to get a coffee? I need something to wake me up before Ettore interrogates us. I assume he’s not happy that we fucked with his plans.”
Okay, I’ve gone there. I must need this caffeine fix more than I realized.
He sticks the blinkers on and pulls into the curb outside Coffee Creations.
He doesn’t get out, so I don’t get out either, although my focus is now split between the coffee shop that legitimately does the best muffins in Chicago and the potential to find myself chopped into dog-sized proportions and fed through the local pet cremation business Ettore has in his pocket.
“He won’t ask. Not directly, anyway. Asking would show weakness. But he will know, so don’t volunteer anything.” He gets out of the car.
I get out and follow.
“How’s that tattoo coming along?” he asks as we wait in line to be served.
“Fucking amazing. Glad you put me onto Goat. He really knows his stuff.”
“Yeah, he’s the best.”
He’s right about the interrogation that isn’t quite an interrogation. Ettore poorly disguises his tension, so I do what Ido best: reach into my personality drawer and find one that sits somewhere between dumb soldier and appropriately wary.
I’m instructed to take Carmela and her sister to visit their mother’s grave.
That’s going to be a blast.After what happened to Dante, I’m extra pissed with her. But I’m not a complete dick, and fucking with someone visiting her mother’s grave feels a step too far even for me.
I’m told she’s in the kitchen.
Ettore leaves with Jero.
I enter the kitchen and find Carmela doom-scrolling on her phone and her sister staring at Brigida, who is scrubbing the already-clean counter.
No one reacts when the door clicks shut behind me.
“Ready to go?”
“I’ll get my coat.” The kid is up like a flash, but not a hint of the sass today.
