Chapter 11 #2
“Our father lent it to him when we three moved out to live in New York City. We use the house for family get-togethers. So when we visit on Tuesday, know that Silvio’s just playing host.”
“Got it,” I say. But I don’t get it at all. This East Coast mafia family is hard to understand. And Angie has only revealed the tip of the iceberg.
“Better buy a dress for next Wednesday, too,” says Lorenzo. “We have the exhibition opening honoring our family founder, Salvatore Ricci. It’s at the Museum of the City of New York.”
“There’s an actual museum about the history of New York?” I ask.
“Yes,” says Luca. “The exhibition is called ‘From Docks to Dynasty.’ Lorenzo put me in charge of organizing the event.”
“Organizing the exhibition must have been a lot of work,” I say.
“Not really. The museum director did most of it. My job is to make sure the family shows up. There won’t be any outsiders. Just the press.”
“Are you media savvy?” Lorenzo asks, turning to me. “If not, I could teach you.”
Dante casts Lorenzo a dark glance.
“Or not,” says Lorenzo, checking himself. “I’m at Dante’s disposal.”
It’s clear Lorenzo is Dante’s right hand. The two are like sides of a coin: Dante calm and controlling; Lorenzo gregarious and charm personified.
And then there’s Luca, the wild card.
Slowly the family dynamics are coming together.
“Yes, teach Gina how to handle the media,” says Dante, pushing away his half-eaten pizza.
“There will be a lot of eyes on us during the exhibition. And with some of my plans coming to fruition, Gina will need to be comfortable with the media in the future.”
Plans? Plans involving me? I open my mouth to speak but immediately snap it shut. Dante is clearly one who doesn’t like to be questioned.
I lift my plate and prepare to collect his.
“Sit,” says Dante. “Ciro will take care of that.”
I retake my seat and think of a topic to break the uncomfortable silence.
“Dante, when I was leaving the club today, I saw a restaurant for sale right across the street. Did you notice that?”
“What about it?” he asks in a guarded voice.
For some odd reason, Luca and Lorenzo look at one another across the table and nod.
“You have sharp eyes, Gina,” says Lorenzo. “As soon as that for-sale sign went up, I asked Dante about acquiring it.”
“We’re not restaurateurs,” Dante says bluntly to Lorenzo.
“True. But this restaurant’s been handed to us on a silver platter. It’s directly across the street from the club. It’s perfect as a money-laundering outlet and venue for future events. And with the Petrovs pushing into our territory, every legitimate dollar matters.”
“Lorenzo’s right,” says Luca. “We’re leaving money on the table by letting an outsider acquire it.
Both our club and casino guests go elsewhere for dinner.
If we buy the restaurant, they could just walk across the street to dine.
This will provide immediate revenue from the restaurant, but more important, support our future endeavors. ”
“What’s your interest in this restaurant, Gina?” Dante asks.
I look at the three men. They’re all staring at me with real curiosity.
No way am I going to tell them I need a focus. That I can’t spend the rest of my life shopping and gossiping with Angie every day.
Though I still have hopes Dante will agree to let me pursue a graduate degree at the Academy of Visual Arts, what if he refuses?
I need a plan B.
Dante won’t dismiss my desire to be part of the family business.
“I’m thinking along the same line as your brothers,” I tell Dante.
“If you acquire the restaurant, I can manage its build-out. I need to do something useful. I’d like to be an active part of the family business. I wouldn’t want to work with Silvio in the casino. And I’m not sure my skills would be of use to you in the nightclub, Dante.”
“You have experience managing a restaurant?” Dante asks. I hear the skepticism in his voice.
“Not direct experience, no. That’s not my strongpoint.”
“Then what is your strong point?” Lorenzo asks.
I take a deep breath. “Design. Concept.”
Dante keeps his eyes fixed on me, while Lorenzo and Luca look at one another.
“My wife seems to have talents I know nothing about,” says Dante. “Tell us more, Gina.”
I hesitate. Announcing that I’m a caricature artist may make them think I’m silly. But I also thought that they’d look down on my waitress experience.
And they didn’t.
“I’m an artist,” I say boldly. “I’ve been drawing caricatures of people since I was seven. I turned it into a viable online business a few years back. And one day, I hope to have one of my works in the National Portrait Gallery in London.”
There. I said it. My gut twists as I watch Dante and his brothers absorb this news.
“I read something in your profile about you being an artist,” Dante finally says. “But why the National Portrait Gallery?”
“It has the finest collection of caricature art in the world. I saw it when my parents took me to London as a kid. It’s been my goal ever since.”
“See how it’s coming together, Dante?” Lorenzo grins. “Your wife’s an artist. I’m not sure what a caricature is exactly, but it sounds very cool. And if you agree, Luca and I already found a chef to add to the package. His name’s Enrico Pisa. You’re enjoying his pizza tonight.”
A pizza chef named Pisa, I think to myself. This guy must be a natural.
“Hmmmm…” says Dante, looking at his abandoned pizza before digging his fork into it.
After tasting it with new consideration he points his fork in my direction. “Okay, Gina. You promised a concept. What is it?”
When I look at the brothers for support. They just nod, encouraging me to speak.
I think back on the conversations Alice’s parents had around the table when they were brainstorming the concept.
“Let’s start with the customer base,” I say, winging it. “We have the Dante’s Inferno club people. Sleek, upscale, money no object. And the casino crowd. They’re older, and desire quality fine dining and tradition.”
“Continue,” says Dante.
“Since Luca and Lorenzo found a pizza chef, let’s keep the pizza concept but elevate it. Let’s focus on creating an upscale Italian pizza restaurant based on nostalgia.”
“Where does nostalgia fit in? Pizza is pizza,” says Dante.
“Exactly. That’s why we must be different.”
The energetic vibe of a bustling restaurant bursts into my head in a flurry of colors and shapes.
Immediately, I sense it will be the kind of place where you feel a sense of fun and energy. And for whatever reason, the iconic face of the canned pasta king Chef Boyardee comes to mind.
“Different how?” Dante demands.
“Unlike a lot of high-end restaurants in town, our place will radiate a playful approach to food and life. We’ll charge top dollar for the white tablecloth service, elegantly outfitted waiters, a top wine list and so forth. But the décor will remind them of their childhood.”
“That’s not a concept. It’s mere decoration,” says Dante.
Having Dante cross-examining me like this is unnerving, but I force a teasing smile.
“Hear me out. Do you and your brothers remember a brand of pasta called Chef Boyardee?” I ask.
“Luca saw television commercials for it when he was a kid and demanded that our mother buy it,” Dante says, looking at his youngest brother. “Of course she’d never consider it.”
“Our mother made the best pasta on the planet,” Lorenzo explains to me.
“Right. But that’s not the point …” I begin.
Dante cuts me off.
“We’re not in the restaurant business,” he says flatly, taking in me and his brothers in one sweeping glance.
“We’re in the money-making business. I’m willing to consider this restaurant endeavor of yours. But I’m only interested in its profit potential. Lorenzo, Luca, run the numbers, then send me your report.”
“But Dante …” I begin.
My husband cuts me off again as he meets my eyes. “I said I’d think about it.”
The conversation turns to the museum exhibition once again. But I tune out their words as the concept of the restaurant interior becomes more vivid in my mind.
I had never considered going commercial with my artistic endeavors, but why not?
My New York adventure now glitters with exciting possibilities. Yet if only Dante would love me the way I love him, everything would be perfect.
It will happen I tell myself. It’s just a matter of time.