11. Chapter Eleven
Chapter Eleven
Justin
It’s still a ways away. I’ll tell you when to turn. Man, this has changed in twenty years. We used to ride sleds over on Art Hill in Forrest Park on your right. God, this was a great place to grow up.
“Uh, huh.” I wasn’t in the mood to stroll down memory lane with Ramon. I was supposed to have a date on Tuesday night with Clay Fines, but oh no. I was in St. Louis to try to find the mobster who killed Ramon Blanco.
It was Friday night by the time we got to St. Louis, and I’d told Eve in a text to say I was going to visit my parents in St. Louis. She knew it was a lie, and I had to promise to explain everything when I got back on Sunday—well, that was when I hoped I’d get back.
Damn, you’ll have to go get the hot salami sandwich while we’re here. It’s to die for.
I was tired of Ramon pretending I was willingly with him on this wild goose chase. “I hate salami.”
Oh, damn! Come on man. Your parents were what?”
“Human?” Yeah, I was in a pissy mood.
No, dumbass. Where are your ancestors from? Mine are Italian; came over from the boot.
“Oh, uh, I think my father’s grandfather came to the US from England or Wales. I really don’t know. The history of my family isn’t anything I’ve researched.”
Turn right onto Southwest Avenue in about five miles. We’ll go by DeLuca’s on the Hill. The social club meets there in the back room. I just want to get a look around. Hell, they have great food.
I rolled my eyes at his bullshit. “I didn’t come here for a fucking food tour of St. Louis, Ramon. Can you get the hell out of my body? I’d like to keep my thoughts to myself for a while.”
Ramon laughed. No can do, pizon. If I’m not inside you, I’m too easy to find. Make a right on Marconi and a left into DeLuca’s parking lot.
“How the fuck will I get into the restaurant? They don’t know me at all.”
It’s a restaurant and they have an incredible Italian beef on the steam table.
You’re a customer. You go in and ask for a table.
It’s a slow part of the day. Once you’re seated, you ask for Marco Espisito.
Tell him you’re a friend of Ana’s, my daughter and his niece.
Say you worked with her at Sephora in Chesterfield and you want to renew your connection because you moved away and lost touch. He loves Ana as if she were his own.
“God, did your daughter know you at all?” How could I not question his loyalty to his family? The man...spirit...said he had eight kids. How much time could he spend with them?
Ana and her little sister, Gina, are my girls with Marcella—Marcy. She’s Marco’s twin sister. My son Nico is our oldest. He and I didn’t have a great relationship because I didn’t marry his mother. I was a slimeball, what can I say?
“Are you proud of that? Why would someone choose not to marry a woman they loved enough to have multiple children with? Wouldn’t they spend time with their children? If I ever had children, I’d want to be with them all the time.”
You’d think that, but dude, I had a lot of shit going on back then, and by the way, you can’t have children with guys can you? I don’t think they’ve found a way to make that happen.
Look, I had guys coming at me left and right to take my place in the family. Why the fuck would I want those people near my kids? I tried to keep my relationships private from people I worked with because it would put my whole family in danger.
“Whole family? Oh, that’s right. You had five of them. How the fuck didn’t those women claw out your eyes?” I flipped on the blinker and made a right onto Marconi Avenue, turning into the parking lot of DeLuca’s on the Hill. Just as I was ordered to do.
I got out of my SUV and stood in the parking lot, awaiting further instructions. What had I gotten myself into? I wanted to strangle Eve for that fucking séance.
If I ever wanted my thoughts to be my own, I had to fucking do what the idiot in my head demanded. I went into the place through the front door and suddenly all eyes were on me.
I approached the young woman at the host stand and plastered on a fake smile.
“Hello. I’m looking for Marco Espisito. I was friends with his niece, Ana.
The two of us worked together at Sephora a year ago.
She’s a wonderful young woman, and we had fun together when we went out as a group.
I just wanted to, uh, catch up with her. ”
The host smiled. “Sure. Can I show you to a table? I’ll get Marco from the kitchen.”
I nodded and followed the young woman to a two-top and sat. The place wasn’t too busy, but it was nearly dinnertime. I was sure there would be a lot of customers coming soon because the smells from the kitchen were incredible.
Just ask Marco about Ana. We can come back tomorrow if he’s cagey. Do yourself a favor and order the meatball sub. The man is a master with meatballs. He could probably teach you the best way to handle balls.
Ramon’s raucous laugh filled my mind, but I didn’t respond because I didn’t want the young woman to think I was as crazy as I believed myself to be. She handed me a menu and a young guy walked over to the table with a glass of water and a basket of sourdough bread and whipped butter. “Thank you.”
The kid, who was probably no more than seventeen, nodded and walked away.
After a couple of minutes, a man stopped at my table sporting a big grin. He was wearing a chef’s jacket with Marco embroidered over his heart. “Mia told me you know my Ana.”
Fuck him. She’s my Ana. Tell him about Sephora.
“I, uh, w-worked with her at Sephora. We k-kinda lost touch, and I’m in t-town for a few days.
I wanted to try to catch up with her. She was an amazing young woman, and we got along well.
I don’t have enough friends that I want to ignore one if I’m in town.
” As I spoke, the nerves dissipated so the stutter went away.
The laughter in my head made me want to scoop out my brains with a melon baller.
I’m sorry, Kid. He can be a nice guy, but if you piss him off, you’ll have your brains all over the wall behind us. Marco’s a shoot first ask questions later guy.
“Well, unfortunately, Ana’s in Chicago. Her friend, Ivy, is getting married, and they went to Chicago for the bachelorette party. She’ll be back on Sunday. You want me to text her your number?”
Ask about Gina and Nico.
“Uh, how is Gina? Ana talked about her little sister a lot. Oh, and Nico. He’s her big brother, right?”
You’re sharp, Kid.
Not really.
“You wanna meet Nico? He’s in the kitchen. Ana’s always quiet when people talk about the family. Her papa wasn’t around at all. My sister had to raise the kids on her own. I did what I could for them, but my sister is the strongest woman I know except for our mama.”
That’s right. My Marcy’s amazing. Ask about her.
“Ana’s mother, is she still in St. Louis? Ana talked about Marcy so often that I’d love to meet her.”
“My sister’s a hairdresser, and she’s at a hair show in Miami. Give me your number, and I’ll have Ana call you. What’s your name?”
Make up a name and number. We’re getting nothing here.
I stared at Esposito for a moment before smiling. “Tell her Teddy Banks says hi. I’ll leave my number on the check.”
Just then, a tall, handsome guy came out of the kitchen. He glanced at me for a moment before walking to the table. “Uncle Marco, can you come look at the pizza oven? I think it’s runnin’ hot. We burned two pies.”
“Sure. Nico, this is Teddy Banks. He knows Ana.” Marco looked at me and smiled. “Nico, get his order. It’s on the house, Kid.” Marco hurried away, but Nico stayed.
“You know my sister? You go to high school at St. Andrew’s?”
He was staring at me intensely, and I couldn’t help but fidget. “Uh, no. We worked together at Sephora on, uh...”
Jameson. The strip mall on Jameson.
“Jameson. That strip mall there.”
“You dated her?”
He stared at me like he knew I wasn’t straight, so dating a woman was out of the question. “No. She and I were just friends. I’m not dating anyone right now.”
Oh, shit. Is my son gay? I didn’t see that comin’.
I wanted to ask the jackass if that was a problem, but Nico spoke again. “You busy later tonight?”
Say no. Say no.
“Uh, n-no. I’m not busy.”
“Come back at ten when I get off. We’ll go get a drink. Pick me up, and we’ll see what happens.”
I nodded and tossed a twenty on the table. “I’ll see you at ten.”
Ain’t you savin’ your cherry for Clay Fines?
Once I was outside, I addressed my unwelcome passenger. “Who I give my cherry to is none of your business. Are you upset your son might be gay? He didn’t confirm or deny it. He only asked me out for a drink. Maybe he knows something about who killed you.”
Ramon laughed. I ain’t gay, but I know a pickup line when I hear one.
My son’s pickin’ you up, Kid. I got nothin’ against you gay guys.
One of my crew liked guys and girls. I never gave him hell for it, though some of the other guys did.
I had a meeting with my crew and laid down the law.
Nobody fucked with Mikey after I gave the word.
“Is he still alive? Maybe he’d know more about your killer?” I had to figure out a way to speed this shit up. I was never going to get home if I didn’t.
Far as I know, he’s fine. Let’s go to his neighborhood and check it out. Make a left up here on Sublette.
Sadly, I was getting too used to following orders from Ramon. Why couldn’t I wrestle control from him when I wanted it?
We drove to a small shotgun-style house on Sublette Avenue near the South City YMCA. “This where your friend lives?”
Naw. His ma lives—or lived—here when he worked for me. If she’s still alive, she’ll be here and after she tells you she doesn’t know who you’re talkin’ about, she’ll call him and he’ll come over. You can talk to Tino then.
I walked the sidewalk to the small slate porch with its white wrought iron railings and pressed the doorbell.
Someone’s inside. Knock on the door. Maybe the bell don’t work?
I pulled open the screened storm door and knocked on the wooden door, letting the screened door close. A moment later, a tiny little woman with white hair opened the front door and smiled.
“Hello?”
That’s her, Mrs. Gallo. Tino’s ma.
“Are you Mrs. Gallo?” I wasn’t sure if Ramon was trying to humiliate me.
“Yes. Can I help you?”
“Um...” My mind scrambled at a million miles an hour to give the woman a reason why I stood on her porch when she’s never seen me before.
I got this.
Ramon shoved me out of the way and grinned. “Hi. I’m Peggy Best’s son, Teddy. I believe your son, Tino, dated my mother during high school. I wonder if Tino’s around? I think he might be my dad.”
What the fuck are you doing, Ramon? You’ll give her a heart attack. God, the guy...spirit...was an idiot. You can’t tell old people shit like that.
“Peggy Best? I don’t know anyone named Peggy Best, I’m afraid. Where would my Santino have met her?”
“Ma said they met at Little Bit of Italy where Tino worked over on Hampton.”
The old woman was quiet, so I jerked Ramon out of the way so I could see how upset she was. It was too fucking crowded in my head.
Mrs. Gallo didn’t look too upset. “What are you looking for? Tino’s not here right now. He’ll be home by eleven.”
Fucker must be at the social club. There’s a bocci ball alley in the back and it’s Friday, so they’ll be playing. Thank her and let’s go.
“Uh, well, my mother told me on her death bed that Tino might be my father. I thought he might want to know she’s passed away.”
Damn, Kid, you’re quick on your feet. Let’s go, now.
Mrs. Gallo opened her arms and surrounded me with a hug.
“I’m so sorry, Teddy. It’s hard to lose someone you love.
” She then pushed me back and placed her right hand on my cheek.
“I don’t think my Tino is your father, but if it’s important for you to know for sure, give me your phone number and he’ll reach out to you. ”
“I, uh, I might just let it go. Maybe it’s not important for me to know. Thank you, Mrs. Gallo.” I quickly stepped away from her and smiled. She was a nice woman. She didn’t deserve this bullshit.
I walked down the steps to the sidewalk, quickly making my way to my SUV. I got inside and sighed. “Now where?”
We’re going back to—
“No, we’re going back to Kansas City. This is enough.” Just as I was about to start the car, I was shoved aside into total darkness, yet again.
Mother fucker.