Chapter 29
LORENZO
“Know what this ‘surprise lunch’ is all about?” Dante says, squinting as we push through the casino’s door and step out into the hard afternoon light.
He checks his watch, then fixes me with those black eyes of his.
Like a vampire, Dante doesn’t do daylight. He doesn’t do lunches. Or anything else that pulls him more than fifty feet from the floor.
But there’s little he wouldn’t do to please Gina, especially when she’s carrying his child.
And I guess us brothers resemble one another in looks and actions, because I’m the same way with Emily.
It’s been three days since that pillow wall came down.
Since then, I’ve found myself looking forward to coming home to her.
Even though, getting intimate with my fake wife hadn’t been in my plans.
Mainly because our union raises all kinds of questions about the future I’m not prepared to answer.
As soon as Dante pulls open the restaurant door, the appetizing scent of seared dough and oregano greets my nostrils. My stomach rumbles.
Entering, I see that the girls have been busy the last three days.
A gorgeous table with a white cloth and flowers sits in the center of the otherwise empty restaurant.
Gina’s murals dazzle beneath the dimmed lights.
Our cousin Angie sashays toward us. “Gentlemen,” she says. “Welcome to Salvatore’s.”
Dante and I glance at each other.
“Salvatore’s restaurant?” Dante says.
“Yes. Our great-great-grandfather.” She nods her head at the sketch of him propped on an easel.
I resist the urge to laugh at the way she says that. Yet it’s true. Angie is our cousin and we all share his genes.
Gina and Emily come toward us with big smiles.
“Enjoy your wine, gentlemen,” Emily says. “We wanted to make a proper introduction to the new restaurant theme.”
“Why didn’t you tell us anything about this?” Dante demands.
Gina puts a defensive hand on her belly, as if the tone of his voice would offend the baby.
“We wanted it to be a surprise. Are you upset?”
“Of course not,” says Dante.
He’s not one for physical intimacy in front of others. But given Gina’s condition and her tone, he pulls her toward him.
“Please explain what this lunch is about,” Dante says. “I don’t like surprises.”
Gina looks at Emily as if to encourage her to speak.
“Gina asked me to check out ‘The Rod’ Rodriguez. He’s been written up in all the top publications. Once I saw him in action, I realized he was talented … but not right for us.”
“Why not?” says Dante.
“He has an enormous ego. Won’t take orders. Clearly, his word is law.”
At that moment, a clean-cut man with a crisp white shirt walks toward us.
“Gentlemen, I’d like you to meet Mike Roy. Mike, this is my husband, Lorenzo Ricci, and his brother, Dante.”
I shake Mike’s hand, for Emily’s sake. Dante eyes him with suspicion.
To break the tension, I look at my brother.
“Hey Dante, let’s sit down. I feel like eating some pizza.”
“Speak now,” Dante says, staring this Mike guy down.
Mike doesn’t flinch under my brother’s gaze.
“Emily Ricci and I met at Antonio Rodriguez’s restaurant. Then she invited me to meet with her and Mrs. Gina Ricci about assembling a crew and managing the restaurant.”
“So this is what this lunch is all about,” Emily says, looking at Dante. “The best thing you two can do is sit down and enjoy lunch while I deliver a presentation.”
Once we’re seated, Emily springs into action. First she hands us a professional-looking presentation document. Then she stands in front of the table.
“Let me show you the figures,” she says. “I worked out the operating expenses for the following year. And I amortized the initial costs, like tables, chairs, various kitchen necessities over a five-year period.”
I watch as Dante listens to Emily, flipping through the pages as she speaks.
Finally, he snaps her proposal shut.
“Got it. But Gina and my brothers wanted a celebrity chef. If this Rodriguez guy is a problem, let’s find another. And why do we need this Mike character?”
Emily is calm as she faces my brother.
“As you see in the brief I prepared, his resume is impressive. He’s had twenty years of restaurant experience. And access to an endless crop of talented and ambitious chefs. We can train them as we wish.”
With that, Emily gives a signal.
Angie comes out from the kitchen and serves us an aromatic pizza.
She gives us a professional sounding description of what we’re about to eat before departing with a saucy wink.
Dante takes the first bite. “Oregano is fresh,” he says, sounding surprised. I know he’s an oregano man.
“Very good,” he says, examining the crust the way I would examine a woman.
His eyes turn to Mike with more than mild curiosity.
“How did you pull that off? Crispy bottom yet puffy cornicione?”
Mike smiles, pleased.
“It’s the way we prepared the dough. And the temperature of the wood-burning pizza oven we purchased for exactly that reason.”
Dante nods.
“If this all goes according to plan, the place will be packed with overflow from the casino and the nightclub. Traffic will likely pour in at midnight. Can your young chef handle a crowd of 200 all at once?”
“We have that planned out,” says Mike. “It was the same way at my pizza chain.”
With that, Mike claps his hands to signal the chef.
A tall lanky man wearing a chef’s uniform comes forward.
He’s a good-looking kid. A little younger than Emily.
“Gentlemen, this is Paul,” says Mike.
“A pleasure to meet you. May I serve the other two pizzas I’ve prepared?”
“Yes, please,” says Dante.
As soon as the kid goes back, Dante looks at me.
“What do you think, Lorenzo?”
“I like it,” I say. “But we should expand beyond the nightclub and casino crowd.”
Emily walks up to the image of our great-grandfather leaning against an easel.
“The restaurant will be called Salvatore in honor of your great-grandfather. His image and aura will replace anything a ‘celebrity chef’ could offer. We plan to have his name and his history tell his story in the media. I understand his own parents owned a humble trattoria in Palermo.”
I narrow my eyes at her. “How did you know?”
“I told them,” says Gina. “I told them about the box of Salvatore’s things you brought from the Long Island house. We all looked through the photographs. We plan to frame and mount the photographs near the entrance.”
“We’ll also offer Salvatore-themed merchandise via an online site and gift shop on property. Early projections suggest the merchandise could become a strong additional profit center.”
“Merchandise? Like what?” Dante asks.
“T-shirts, mugs, wine bottle openers,” says Gina. “We’ll have to brainstorm some great slogans.”
It’s hard to read Dante’s expression. His black eyes rarely show emotion. Even when he’s about to kill someone.
“I like it,” he says after a long hesitation.
“We must act fast,” I say. “The sooner we spring into motion, the sooner we’ll get our license.”
“So we have your blessing?”
Emily looks at Dante in a way that demands an answer.
“Can we go forward? Everything is in the packet. Mike’s proposed salary, the expenses we need to go ahead with the purchase of the tables and chairs, finishing of the floor. All the details right there. If you need a few days to look at it, that’s fine.”
Dante looks at Gina’s hopeful face.
Her fingertips are steepled together over the bump in her belly like she’s praying for him to say yes.
Though Emily’s made a solid business proposal, Dante is the type of man who works on his gut.
“Mike, bring on the second course,” Dante says after a moment’s hesitation. “Then we’ll clear the table and talk.”
I look at Emily with a curious sense of pride. She’s far from the uptight Bostonian schoolmarm I mistakenly thought her to be.
Standing in front of us now, she’s a ball-busting entrepreneur.
Emily meets my eyes and smiles.
We both know it’s a done deal.