“You were gone forever. I was hungry so I didn’t wait for you,” she says around a bite of shrimp.
“Sorry,” I mutter as I fill a glass with tea. Then grab my plate before going to sit beside her. “What are you watching?”
“Movie on Ted Bundy. I’ve been wanting to watch it but I wasn’t in the mood.”
“It’s good. I’ve already watched it.”
“You want me to find something else?”
“No, I’m good.”
My phone goes off with a text. I check it, Theresa has a question about what I sent her today.
“Who is Theresa and why is she texting you?”
I couldn’t hold in the laughter if I tried. “She’s the assistant for the foundation. She has a question. Do you want to read all her texts?”
She shrugs before taking a drink of her water. I hand her my phone. “Here you can read through it.”
Her eyes go wide, and with a giggle she accepts it. I snatch her phone. She rolls her eyes then gives me the code to unlock it.
I’m flicking through her texts. Not many, a few guys, they all have to do with school projects or studying. When I see it, I go still. “What the hell is Dom’s number doing in your phone? All of ten people in the world have his number.”
She opens her mouth then closes it again. I check; at least she hasn’t called it. “It’s not a big deal, please lower your voice. Dom gave me his number the night of my graduation party or whatever. He wanted me to have it in case I needed help with something I couldn’t go to Cesare for.”
“Delete it. Now.” I hand her back her phone.
; Shaking her head, her eyes are wide. “No. I doubt I’ll need it, but you can’t tell me I’m not allowed to have another man’s number in my phone.”
“Dom isn’t another man. He’s a captain in the Outfit who might seem charming and nice, but he’s also very fucking dangerous. Delete his number now.”
A hand goes over her face. “Dante, you’re going overboard here.”
“No, I’m not. Anything you need, me or Che, we’re here for you. There’s no need to have Dom’s number in your phone. Unless you want it for another reason.” Why the hell won’t she fucking delete it?
“Jesus, Dante, it’s not like that. I don’t see why you’re acting like this.”
“Dom is family, I love him, but I don’t ever want his world touching you and if you call him for something it will.”
With a sigh, she looks from me to the phone. “Okay, fine.” I watch her delete the number then hand me the phone. “Happy?”
I toss it on the table, relieved she gave in. “I’ll get there.”
We turn our attention back to our food. We eat without talking for a while and slowly the tension eases away until it’s gone entirely.
“Ugh, if someone mentions how handsome he is one more time I might vomit all this awesome food up. Which would be a damn shame. I’m done. I prefer the straight documentaries.” She grabs the remote and closes it out, then starts searching through the menu. “Have you seen this show? I’m disgruntled the second season isn’t out yet.”
“Mindhunter, oh yeah. I finished within two days of it coming out.”
“You like serial killer shows too?” Her eyes are a soft hazel as they widen.
“Yeah, growing up I wanted to be a criminologist. My dad didn’t know my mom went to my uncle Tony behind his back for money and leads on sales and houses and cheap labor to repair properties to flip. The few times I was home sick, she would take me with her but always made me not to tell my father. Uncle Tony was nice and genuinely caring toward me.
Even knowing what I do now I can’t believe my father turned his back on his family. “I never understood my dad’s refusal to have anything to do with his brother for being a mob guy. Then again, at seven I didn’t know what a mob guy was. Once I figured it out I became fascinated with my family line, their ties going back to Sicily and where it all started.”
“You have a much more interesting reason than me to be into the shows.” She shrugs self-consciously. “Even though I was happy my mom left us, a part of me hated her for it. It was weird because nine times out of ten if you asked me, I really, genuinely was happy, but that one time stirred up a rage inside me that scared the shit out of me. I’m telling my shrink I don’t understand what’s going on with me. Why do I feel like this? She’s all, it’s completely normal. It would be weird if I wasn’t mad, and it’s me not copping to the anger that creates the rage.