Chapter 50
Chapter
Fifty
Vince
Nonna silently flips through my recipe book, and for a man who’s faced death countless times, I’ve never been as nervous as I am now. She closes the notebook, pointing at me with her boney finger. “I teach you, but,” she pauses dramatically. “Nobody gets my gravy recipe.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.” I’m getting that damn gravy recipe.
“First, I watch you make pasta.”
I dust the counter before creating a mound of flour with a well in the center. Nonna silently watches as I crack the eggs in a bowl and pour them in well, like a little bird’s nest. I begin mixing the dough with my hands until a ball forms.
“Keep kneading,” Nonna orders, and I do as I’m told. “You don’t want the dough too soft, or the pasta won’t be nice and al dente when you cook it.”
“How about this?”
Nonna smacks the dough with her hand. “ Perfetto . Now, we wait. You chop the herbs. No such thing as too much parsley.”
“I’ll remember that.” I roll a tight bundle and begin chopping.
“Hey, Vince. I hear you’re opening a restaurant.” Valentina joins us.
“Hey, Valentina. Yes, in Surf City.”
“What’s the vibe?”
“Old-school meets modern Italian. Upscale, but not stuffy.”
“Love it. Who’s handling your launch?”
“I haven’t gotten that far yet,” I admit.
“You need influencers. You need food critics. You need local politicians and media personalities,” she rattles off. “You need all the it people there, so everyone else will want to be there. Tell me, what’s your plan?”
“Uh…”
“Say no more. I’m on it. What’s the name of your restaurant?”
“ Ristorante Luna .”
“Named after his girl,” Nonna says with a big grin.
“She’s not my—” Little anything. My chest aches where my heart used to be.
“Wait, you’ve met her?” Valentina says.
Nonna nods. “Nice Italian girl.”
“Why haven’t I met her?” Valentina demands.
Nonna waves her hand. “Too busy fussing with Sammy.”
“Ugh, don’t get me started on that man. Why is he here all the freaking time?”
“Nonna’s cooking, of course,” Sam says from the door.
“Sammy, you hungry? Come sit.” Nonna doesn’t wait for his reply. “Valentina, get Sammy a cup of coffee.”
Valentina rolls her eyes dramatically. “He knows where the coffee maker is. ”
“But I can’t make all those fancy foam designs like you,” Sam says.
“See, help the man,” Nonna interjects. “You want cookies?”
He flashes a winning smile. “Yes, please.”
“And get him some cookies. Vince, now we roll out the pasta,” she tells me.
I grab a rolling pin and get to work. I’ll be doing this step with a pasta maker at the restaurant, but I like knowing Nonna’s method if I’m ever in a pinch.
“Here you are, Sammy,” Valentina announces, presenting him with a plate of cookies covered in a powder sugar design—the outline of her hand flipping a bird.
I choke down a laugh.
“Valentina,” Nonna chides.
“Forgot my coffee,” Sam says unfazed, taking a bite of cookie.
Valentina smiles sweetly. “Coming right up.”
She turns on the espresso machine, her back to us as she works.
“Too thick,” Nonna tells me.
I continue to roll the dough, watching Valentina and Sam out of the corner of my eye.
Valentina places a coffee cup in front of Sam with Fuck You written in the foam. “Now, if everyone will excuse me, I need to get to work.”
“Painting your nails?” Sam takes a sip of his coffee.
“Why, Sammy? Does your manicure need a touchup? Iris was right; red is your color.” I don’t know what Valentina means, but she turns to me. “Vince, I’ll get started on your restaurant’s soft launch and official launch. Let’s set up a meeting once you have your menu and opening date nailed down.”
“Absolutely.”
She nods, spinning on her heel and marching out .
“You made a deal with the devil,” Sam tells me, sipping his coffee.
“ Pfft .” Nonna waves her hand. “Valentina’s a strong woman. She’ll need a strong man. I hope her brother chooses wisely.”
Sam nearly chokes on his coffee. “What are you talking about?”
“Keep rolling.” Nonna points her finger at me, and I do as I’m told.
Luna
“Your move,” Bridget tells me.
“Sorry,” I say, focusing on our friendly game at the club.
“What’s wrong? You haven’t been your usual ball-busting self,” she comments.
“Nothing.”
“Where’s Vince been hiding? I haven’t seen him in a while.”
“I don’t know. He’s no longer my manager.” I do know he’s alive; both Nicky and Kat told me that much, not that I care or anything.
“Aldo mentioned it,” she admits sheepishly. “What happened?”
“Vince happened.”
“If it makes you feel better, it was obvious that man was head over heels in love with you,” she tells me.
“It doesn’t. Checkmate.”
“Damn. You’re on fire after your win in St. Louis. ”
Rage will do that to a girl.
I heat up a pitiful-looking frozen pizza as I pop open a soda, taking a sip. No Vince to annoy, I don’t make my usual Ahh sound.
The doorbell rings, and I walk to the living room, peeking out of the peephole. “What do you want, Aldo?” I call through the door.
“Let me in.”
“Not by the hair on my chinny-chin-chin.”
“If you have chin hair, that’s something you should keep between yourself and your esthetician. Dammit, Luna. You’re just as stubborn as he is. Let me in.”
I open the door, and Aldo enters with a takeout bag. “You’ve lost weight,” he comments.
“Thanks. Nice to see you too,” I snipe.
“Come to the kitchen and eat. I need to tell you something.”
I silently lead him to the kitchen, hitting stop on the toaster oven.
“Frozen pizza.” He makes a face. “Vince would have a conniption.”
I sigh loudly. “Why are you here, Aldo?”
“Eat, and I’ll tell you.”
I plop down at the table, grabbing the takeout boxes from the bag. Opening them, I find pasta, a salad with ranch, and a chocolate cake with cherries on top.
“Why are you here?” I grab a fork and twirl a bite of pasta, bringing it to my mouth. I know Vince’s delicious cooking when I taste it; I drop my fork.
Aldo takes a seat, clasping his hands together. “Vince hasn’t told you our history, probably in a misguided attempt to protect me.”
“Vince keeps his secrets locked tighter than Bluebeard’s dead wives’ room,” I gripe.
“What?”
“Nothing,” I say with a sigh, picking back up the fork and taking another bite.
“Vince lost his eye because of his mentor, Uncle Joseph, nicknamed ‘the Wolf,’” Aldo says bitterly. My arms prickle, remembering Vince’s reaction to the wolf stuffed animal at the arcade. “Uncle Joseph beat the shit out of Vince for refusing to follow a shitty order. My brother’s always had a big heart, even though he tries to hide it. Vince lost his eye, and was kicked to the curb. Or so we thought.”
Aldo goes on to tell me the rest of the gut-wrenching story of a predator and childhood sexual abuse, and the pasta I consumed churns violently in my stomach. The eyeball in Vince’s office: his mentor’s. Vince’s gruesome dead wolves tattoo: his penance.
“Don’t you see? Vince was terrified he was becoming Uncle Joseph, even though he’s nothing like that monster. My brother’s a good guy, Luna.”
“You don’t know everything about your brother,” I challenge.
“Would you have landed your coach without Vince? Would you have a chess club in AC without Vince? Would you have this apartment without Vince?”
I remain silent, because I can’t argue against any of those things.
“Everything he’s done for you is because he loves you, even him staying away.” He tugs the ends of his hair in frustration. “One of you has to be the bigger person, swallow your pride, and fix this.”
“There’s nothing to fix. ”
He drops his hands. “Then you both deserve this misery. I’ll see myself out.”
Aldo leaves, and I’ve lost my appetite, so I box up the takeout to put in the fridge. There’s a flier in the bag I didn’t notice, and I grab it.
Coming Soon!
Ristorante Luna
Surf City, New Jersey