Page 38 of Wish I Were Here
He parts the beads, and I follow him into a room that’s dark in the corners and lit by another Tiffany lamp hanging in the middle over a circular table. Around the table sit four middle-aged white men with broad shoulders, wide necks, and—when they look up from their cards—angry expressions on their faces.
The largest and most imposing of the men faces us. He’s handsome, with a full head of almost-black hair, sculpted cheekbones, and dark eyes with lashes so long that I can see them all the way across the room, even standing here in the shadows. I immediately note the resemblance to Lorraine, and fifty pounds and thirty years in the future, that could be Luca sitting there.
Except for the scowl. Luca would never have that scowl on his face. I can’t picture Luca with anything other than his charming smile.
This must be Uncle Vito. And he’s not happy to see us.
Uncle Vito confirms this by carefully setting his cards down on the table and, in a low, threatening voice, demanding, “Why are you interrupting my game, Luca?”
“Sorry.” Luca flashes that overexaggerated smile, and I cringe. Is he sure that’s the right strategy here? “I know.” He holds out his hands, palms up, like,What can you do?“I wouldn’t interrupt, but this is important.”
Uncle Vito’s face doesn’t crack an inch. “What could be more important than me taking all of Dominic’s money?”
Not getting whacked tonight.
But Luca seems unthreatened. “This is my friend Catherine.”
Uncle Vito gives me a nod. “How you doin’, Catherine?”
“Uh, fine.” I hesitate, and then add, “Thank you so much for asking.” I notice there aren’t just four men in the room. Two more lurk in the shadows, flanking Uncle Vito, their massive shoulders practically wider than the doorway, arms crossed over their colossal chests. They must be bodyguards. I clutch Luca’s hand tighter.
“Catherine has a problem,” Luca explains.
“We’ve all got problems, kid. Right now, I have the worst case of indigestion from your aunt Toni’s pasta puttanesca.”
I know this is crazy, but I think I might be able to help Uncle Vito out with that. I start to reach into my purse, but before I know what’s happening, one of the bodyguards rushes toward me. “Freeze!” he barks.
I freeze.
He takes a cautious step forward, holding one hand out like a warning. With the other, he flips open his jacket and reaches for something in the waistband of his pants. “What’s in your bag?”
“I—” I keep my eyes trained on the small black object jutting out from beneath his belt. LucapromisedI wouldn’t get whacked tonight. “Uh, well, I have…” Now that I have to say it out loud, this is kind of embarrassing. “I think I might have some Tums. For Uncle Vito’s indigestion.”
The bodyguard slowly pulls his hand away from his waistband. Whew.
“Can I—?” I point to the bag. The bodyguard gives me a nod. I reach inside, and my hand closes over a rollof antacids.Thank God.I hold them up. “They’re still in here from when I was stressed out working on my dissertation…” Luca nudges me with his elbow. Right. Uncle Vito doesn’t care about my dissertation. But when I glance up at Luca’s face, he’s not giving me a warning; he looks like he’s trying not to laugh.
I take a step forward to deliver the Tums to Uncle Vito, but the bodyguard clears his throat and holds up a hefty palm. I stop short. He steps in front of me, and I hand over the Tums. “Right. Sorry. Here you go.”
“So, what is this problem?” Uncle Vito demands, after he’s eaten two Tums and washed them down with his glass of red wine. He waves a hand. “Bottom line me.”
Luca takes a deep breath. “Okay. Catherine’s identity disappeared, and we need to help her get it back. We think we can fix everything if we find the original copy of her birth certificate, but her mom has it. Catherine has never met her mom, and her dad won’t tell her anything about her.”
Uncle Vito nods like this sort of problem is an everyday affair in his line of work. Which I actually haven’t quite worked out what that is, except it sounds like he earns some money from beating Dominic at cards.
“Do you want me to threaten to cut your dad’s hand off?” His dark eyes pierce mine. “Squeeze the info out of him?”
“What?” I gasp. My dad is a clown, for God’s sake. He’s fun loving. He juggles for children. He’s not the sort of person you threaten with bodily harm. Plus, heneedshis hands. “No!”
Uncle Vito nods again. “So, you want me to actually cut off his hand?”
How did this escalate so quickly? “Oh my God.No.”
Luca clears his throat. “We just need one of your guys to help us dig up some information on Catherine’s mother. Maybe if they could help us track her down, we can take it from there.”
Uncle Vito looks a little disappointed. Maybe he was looking forward to cutting off Dad’s hand. But he rallies quickly. “What do you know about the mother?”
“Not much, unfortunately,” I say.
