Chapter 3 - The Waitress Bellini Underestimated
Peter wanted us gone within five minutes.
I refused within five seconds.
“I’m not getting into some black SUV with strangers.”
Peter stared at me.
“You preferred the photograph?”
“That isn’t what I said.”
“It’s what you’re choosing.”
“I’m choosing to understand what’s happening.”
Peter leaned closer.
“Anthony Bellini knows your son’s school.”
That ended the argument.
I woke Leo.
He blinked sleepily.
“Mom?”
“Hey, buddy.”
“Are we going home?”
Peter and I exchanged a look.
“Not tonight.”
Leo noticed him.
“Who’s that?”
Peter crouched.
“Peter.”
Leo studied the tattoos across his hands.
“Are you a pirate?”
Vincent coughed to hide a laugh.
Peter looked at his hands.
“Something like that.”
“Cool.”
Peter stood.
“Vehicle ready?”
Vincent nodded.
Sam immediately said, “We’re not going anywhere.”
Peter turned.
“Papa.”
“I’m not hiding again.”
“This isn’t hiding.”
“What do you call it?”
“Staying alive.”
Sam looked at Rose.
Rose sighed.
“Peter.”
“Yes, Mama?”
“I’d like somewhere warm.”
That settled it.
Twenty minutes later, we were moving through Chicago in a convoy of three SUVs.
Leo sat beside me.
Sam and Rose were across from us.
Peter sat near the door.
Leo stared at him.
Peter noticed.
“What?”
“Are those real?”
“What?”
“Your tattoos.”
“Yes.”
“Did they hurt?”
“Yes.”
Leo considered that.
“Why’d you get them?”
Peter glanced at me.
“Bad decisions.”
I laughed before I could stop myself.
Peter looked offended.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“You laughed.”
“Maybe.”
Leo smiled.
“I like him.”
“Don’t encourage him.”
The SUV suddenly accelerated.
Peter’s expression changed instantly.
“Vincent?”
A voice came through his earpiece.
“Gray sedan. Two cars back.”
Peter looked at me.
“Seat belt.”
“It’s on.”
“Tighten it.”
The SUV turned sharply.
Rose grabbed Sam’s arm.
Leo looked frightened.
I pulled him against me.
“Mom?”
“It’s okay.”
Peter’s eyes met mine.
He didn’t lie.
“No,” he said. “But it will be.”
The convoy split.
Our SUV turned beneath an elevated train.
The gray sedan followed.
Peter spoke into his microphone.
“Do not engage unless necessary. Get civilians clear.”
I looked at him.
“Civilians?”
“You.”
“What are you?”
He ignored that.
Another turn.
Then another.
Finally Vincent said, “We lost them.”
Peter didn’t relax.
Neither did I.
His house was less mansion than fortress.
Stone walls.
Security gates.
Cameras.
Men stationed outside.
The moment we entered, Peter’s doctor examined Sam and Rose.
Malnutrition.
Dehydration.
Rose had pneumonia developing.
Sam had dangerously low blood pressure.
Peter stood silently beside the doctor.
“How bad?”
“They should’ve been hospitalized weeks ago.”
Peter looked at me.
“You knew?”
“I knew they weren’t eating enough.”
“You fed them.”
“When I could.”
“How often?”
I shrugged.
“Most nights.”
Peter’s voice changed.
“You paid?”
“They’re my friends.”
Peter stared at me.
Then asked, “How much do I owe you?”
My expression hardened.
“Nothing.”
“Emma—”
“You think I kept two elderly people alive so somebody could reimburse me?”
“That isn’t what I meant.”
“Then don’t insult me.”
Sam chuckled from the bed.
Peter turned.
“You find this funny?”
“Very.”
Rose smiled.
“I like her.”
Peter sighed.
“Apparently everyone does.”
A security man entered.
“Boss.”
Peter followed him into the hall.
I heard only part of the conversation.
“Bellini called.”
Peter stopped.
“What does he want?”
“Your father.”
Sam had heard too.
He stood in the doorway.
“No.”
Peter turned.
“Papa, go back inside.”
“No more hiding.”
The guard continued.
“Bellini says he wants the ledger.”
Sam’s face changed.
Peter saw it.
“What ledger?”
Sam said nothing.
“Papa.”
Sam looked toward Rose.
Then at his son.
“The evidence I stole twenty-seven years ago.”
Peter stared.
“You still have it?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
Sam looked toward me.
“Patsy’s Grill.”
My mouth fell open.
“What?”
Sam nodded.
May you like
“Booth Seven.”
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