Mafia Chic (10 page)

“I
thought that went really well,” Robert said in the car, too oblivious to the situation. “Once I smoked one of those awful cigars, they seemed to really accept me.”

Sure.

But I didn’t care. I squeezed his hand. “I’m sure they liked you.”

“I’m taking them all to the Giants game in two weeks.”

“What?”

Diana slapped the back of his head.

“Glad you did that, Di. Saved me from doing it.”

“What?” Robert looked over at me. “I thought it would be nice. I happen to have tickets. Eight seats in a skybox. I thought your uncles could come, your father and grandfather. Tony.”

“Are you trying to end up in a concrete barrel under the end zone?” I asked incredulously.

“What?”

“Jimmy Hoffa. That’s where he’s rumored to be buried, you know. Meadowlands’ end zone.”

“You are
kidding
me?”

“No. I’m not. Though Uncle Carmine swears, from a very good source, Hoffa was actually killed in a restaurant and fed through a meat grinder, body piece by body piece.”

Robert cringed. “Nice mental picture, thanks.”

“I’m just teasing, Robert. But do you really think you’re ready to spend time with them alone?”

“I thought it would be a good way to get to know them.” He lifted my hand to his lips and kissed it.

Diana snapped, “Well, next time you have a thought like that, suppress it. Bury it. Slap your own bloody head.”

“You know,” Robert said. “I am beginning to think you two are a little paranoid. Teddi, your family was very nice. They welcomed me. They were lovely. Just like you.”

Di spoke up from the back seat. “Please…I am going to vomit. You have abso
bloody
lutely no idea what Uncle Carmine is like when the Giants are losing. I wasn’t even
raised
on American football, but I know enough to check how they’re doing in the papers before we go out to Sunday dinner.”

“Well,” Robert laughed, “they usually do terribly.”

“Precisely,” Diana said, continuing her rant. “Fine. Go watch your little football game. I hope you leave with your ten little fingers to drive home from it.”

“I thought I’d get a limo so we could drink. Enjoy ourselves.”

I punched him in the shoulder. “Alcohol? Excessive alcohol added to the mix? What is your religious background, Robert?”

“Episcopal. Why?”

“They have a rosary?”

“No.”

“Good God, then, invoke whatever the hell the Episcopalians do. But God rest your soul.”

As we crossed the bridge back to the city, Diana said, “Tony’s meeting us in front of our apartment building. You two want to come out with us? Just going for a quiet drink somewhere.”

“No, that’s all right. I told you, you go have your special first date with Tony.”

“Tony?” Robert asked.

“Yes.”

“The big guy?”

“They’re all big guys. Except for scrawny Jack. Jackie,” Di corrected herself.

Robert smirked. “No offense, but he doesn’t seem your type.”

“Tall, dark and devastatingly handsome? What’s not to like in that type?” Di retorted.

Wonderful. Now he was pissing off my best friend.

“It’s not that, but getting entangled with…you know. He’s—”

“Careful, Robert. You may not want to finish that sentence,” Di warned. Then she switched the conversation. To George Michael. She’d brought along a CD in her purse and begged Robert to put it on his stereo. He complied, and I’ll give the man credit. He sang just as loudly as we did all the way home.

What’s not to like about a man who’s willing to sing to Wham!?

Traffic was surprisingly heavy for a Sunday, and it took us fifty-five minutes to get home. Tony was waiting outside our apartment building, leaning up against the hood of his car. Robert found a spot on the street—a miracle in and of itself—and Diana practically leapt from the car and ran across the street to Tony’s arms. I didn’t want to be a voyeur, but the kiss between them gave
me
goose bumps.

She turned to wave to me, and they took a stroll up the sidewalk, apparently oblivious to the chill that had settled over the city. It smelled like an early first snow might be in the air.

“Do you want to come up?” I asked Robert.

“Sure.” He smiled at me. “I had a great time with your family, Teddi. I really liked them. They seemed so…normal.”

“
Normal
is not an adjective I usually apply to them. But you’ve endeared yourself to me for your naiveté.”

“I’m not sure what I expected—I suppose maybe Joe Pesci types, you know, sort of ranting. Or the Sopranos or something.”

“Give them time. Trust me…they get into trouble—just like the wise guys in the movies. I’ve spent more than one Christmas with my father needing us to make bail for him.”

We got out of his car and went into the building. Until that moment, I hadn’t stopped to think about how Diana’s relationship with Tony meant I was actually free to do what I wanted. He wouldn’t be outside on the street, guarding the “don’s” only granddaughter.

When we reached apartment 26A, I unlocked the door and Robert and I stepped inside. I turned on the light and went into the kitchen to fetch us some champagne.

“Make yourself comfortable on the couch,” I called out to him. When I came out to join him, he had turned on the stereo to a jazz station and was waiting for me, his arm draped along the back of the couch. I sat down and noticed how perfectly I fit in the crook of his arm.

I handed him the bottle. “Care to do the honors?”

He uncorked the bottle and poured us each a glass. He raised his in a toast. “To the most beautiful Teddi Bear in the world.” We clinked and sipped. Then he leaned over and kissed me, gently at first, then more urgently.

I kissed him back, biting him softly on the lower lip until I heard him moan.

“You’re making me crazy,” he breathed.

We kissed for what seemed like a half hour. I had to be honest with him.

“I can’t ask you to spend the night, Robert.”

“Why? Diana? She’ll be out until late.”

“No.” I moved away from him a little bit. “Because given my life, given my family, I’ve not been close to too many people. I just need time. I have to feel completely comfortable. Completely trust you.”

“You don’t trust me?” He seemed hurt.

“I do. I just need to get to know you a little better.”

He cupped my face in his hands. “It’s your call.”

“I know. And you are so terribly sweet.”

He kissed me again, and then, fifteen minutes later, he kissed my cheek. “If I’m going to stop this, I need to do it now.” He smiled at me. “You’re making me completely nuts. Besides, I have an early call tomorrow. See you later in the week?”

I nodded. We both stood, and I walked him to the door. With one final, very passionate kiss, we said good-night. I opened the door, then shut it behind him.

I walked back through my apartment and to my bedroom, stripping out of my jumpsuit, which was admittedly a little askew. Robert had unbuttoned the top two buttons and had played with the little bow on my bra. I felt a touch of regret. Should I have slept with him? Yes, it was early on, but he had already been willing to meet my family. What did that say about the man?

I brushed my teeth and flicked on my television, searching for
Law & Order.
I found an episode and climbed into bed. Instead of regrets and thoughts of Robert, I thought of Mark Petrocelli. I wasn’t sure why. He just had this awful habit of drifting into my thoughts.

I thought of the reason I had given Robert for not letting him stay—that I needed to trust him fully. Maybe the person I didn’t quite trust was myself.

Late that night, Di opened the door to my room.

“Teddi? You awake?”

I’d only been dozing. I think part of my subconscious was waiting to see what time she came home.

“Sort of.”

“Number one.”

“What?” The television was still on. She glowed in the light of, now, images of a rerun of
Cheers
being broadcast.

“He’s officially moved to the spot of number-one kisser ever in the life of Diana Kent.”

“Holy crap!” I sat up, pulling the covers around me, still a little groggy. “That’s saying an awful lot.”

“I know. You do know I had a crush on Prince Andrew while growing up, and though I’ve never kissed Prince Andrew, I have imagined it, and I have since decided kissing him would be like kissing a bowl of pudding.”

“Pudding?”

“Mushy.”

“
Musciata,
in Italian.”

“Yeah. That. But kissing Tony is in another category altogether. He’s so…strong yet not too strong. He grabbed my hair.”

“I love that.” I now noticed her hair was no longer in a chignon but was loose and around her shoulders, a rich honey-blond.

“I would have slept with him, but he was so gentlemanly, he didn’t even ask.”

“Madonna-whore.”

“What? What about Madonna? And yes, she is a little whorish.”

“Yes. But I didn’t mean
that
Madonna. I meant Madonna-whore. Italian men are known for seeing their loves as rather virginal and their lovers as whores. Their
goomahs.
”

“So what does that mean exactly.”

“It means he thinks of you in the highest regard. That you’re not some
puttana
to him. You’re special. He loves you. Or he’s falling in love with you.”

“If he’s expecting me to be a virgin—”

“He’s not that stupid.”

“Thanks a lot.”

“No. I just mean he respects you.”

“Well, all I can say is when we finally do sleep together, it will be unbelievable.”

“I’m sure.”

“And how did it go with Robert?”

“Really well.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

Lady Di shook her head. “I can tell when something’s wrong.”

“Well…” I sighed. “I didn’t think it went all that great with the family. He’s so well mannered and frankly, I don’t think he fully understands the whole family thing. The Marcellos and the Gallos…well, we don’t have to go there for the thousandth time.”

“Your family will get used to him, Teddi. Even Tony said all they care is that you’re happy.”

“I don’t know…. Robert is so unbelievably sweet. Thoughtful. He even has adapted to the fact that I’m in the restaurant business, which means weird hours, erratic schedule. Remember Alex?”

“The one who got in that argument with Quinn?”

I nodded. Alex was a nine-to-five computer programmer I met through one of the waitresses—before the waitress quit because she was in love with Quinn and he was in love with someone else that week. Alex had come on really strong and had taken to hanging out on a bar stool every night waiting for me to get off work. “Yeah, Di. I mean, it’s not every guy who can adapt to restaurant hours. Robert works strange and long hours, too. It kind of works.”

“Well, what else is bothering you?” She grabbed my hand. “All I have is my stuck-up brother and his stick-in-the-ass wife. You, darling, are my true-blue sister, though God only knows how he brought the two of us together. What was Boston University thinking when they roomed us together? Two opposites. One all over the shop, just a total mess, the other neat as a pin. One who has taken a vow of—what the hell is it called?”

“What?”

“That vow of silence thing?”

“An
omerta.
What happens in the family stays in the family.”

“Yeah. That. The other…well, my family is oh-so-stiff. I am telling you my father could die and they could stuff the corpse at the dinner table and we wouldn’t even notice. Staple his eyelids shut, we’d never know.”

“That’s gruesome.”

“Sorry. I watched
Six Feet Under
last week.”

“But we ended up the best of friends, Di.”

“As you would say, ‘Go figure.’”

“Go figure.”

“So tell your dear chum, Lady Di, what else is troubling you?”

“Agent Petrocelli.”

“He’s your James Bond. You can be his Octopussy.”

“Di!”

She was still holding my hand, and she squeezed it.

“I don’t know why,” I suddenly blurted out, “but he…I don’t know. Maybe it’s that he’s from another world. You know…the good guys. The supposed good guys. Maybe it’s some stupid fascination.”

“Maybe it’s just kismet.”

“Maybe. But really…it’s impossible. Maybe that’s what hurts a tiny bit.”

We were silent a moment. She leaned over and kissed my cheek. “I’m off to bed, dear, darling Teddi. But you know, like Tony and me. If it’s meant to be…”

“Don’t even go there.” I scrunched down under the covers. “Good night, Di.”

“Good night.”

I willed myself to think of Robert Wharton. That’s all I wanted. Someone ordinary. Someone who hadn’t taken an
omerta,
but who also didn’t wear a badge. Was that so much to ask?

Office Memorandum: United States Government

TO: David Cameron

FROM: Mark Petrocelli, Special Agent in Charge, Federal Bureau of Investigation

SUBJECT: Wiretap report, Angelo Marcello, Marcello’s Restaurant, Brooklyn, New York

6:20 p.m.

Angelo Marcello: Diana…thank you for coming to this emergency family meeting.

Diana Kent: Hello, Grandpa Angelo—

Angelo Marcello: Call me Poppy. I think of you as my other granddaughter.

Diana Kent: Thank you, Poppy.

Angelo Marcello: Do you think of me as a tired old man, Diana?

Diana Kent: No. Not much escapes you, does it?

Angelo Marcello: Not much at all. Like I know about you and Tony. And I approve.

Diana Kent: Thank you. That means the world to me. Sneaky devils you all are…figuring that out all on your own.

Angelo Marcello: Diana…I noticed you and Tony before you and Tony noticed each other. You were struck by the thunderbolt.

Diana Kent: Oh, dear…I heard that’s not a good thing.

Angelo Marcello: Eh…you don’t listen to Teddi. She just thinks of my wife’s younger brother Mario. The thunderbolt is a good thing. I was struck when I saw my wife—of course she was just fourteen and I was sixteen, but I knew. We were married fifty years. Fifty years. Not many people can say that…. You know, not one Marcello has ever been divorced. We don’t do that. We stick it out. And even so…fifty years is impressive, isn’t it?

Diana Kent: It is. I remember the anniversary party. In fact, I think…yes, you all taught me how to play craps that night. I lost.

Angelo Marcello: Yeah, but I made Vito give you your money back.

Diana Kent: Quite right. Very good of you.

Angelo Marcello: So the way I see it, you
and Tony…it’s a good thing. Now, we have to talk about Teddi…

Sonny Santucci (Angelo Marcello’s son-in-law): You understand that we’re all here because we care about Teddi.

Frank Gallo: Trust me, Diana, when the Gallos sit down with the Marcellos, it must be serious.

Diana Kent: Well…now you’re all making me a touch nervous. Do you suppose I could have a glass of red wine?

Vito Marucci (Angelo Marcello’s son-in-law): Pour Diana a glass of wine.

Diana Kent: Thank you.

Carmine Agnelli: Diana, you know that Connie and I love Teddi like a daughter, but this guy—

Frank Gallo: Guy. Bullshit. He’s a slime-ball. A
worm.
And he needs to be squashed.

Diana Kent: I take it you’re referring to Robert.

Angelo Marcello: Teddi’s father here is a little excitable. Allow me to explain. We don’t think this Robert is the right person for Teddi.

Diana Kent: But it’s very early in the relationship. I don’t think you have anything to worry about. Besides, Teddi is a very bright girl. Isn’t it for her to decide?

Angelo Marcello: You know, Diana, Teddi is the first woman in the family to have a business. She works hard, and we’re all very
proud of her, but we also assumed one day she would settle down, get married, raise a family. That’s the Marcello way, the Gallo way. We believe in family.

Diana Kent: But girls today…she has time. Truly, I wouldn’t get all worried just yet.

Angelo Marcello: As a family, we don’t want to see her get hurt. This man…he’s no good. We’ve done some checking.
Si capisce che
…he is no good.

Diana Kent: I get you. Um…
capiche.

Angelo Marcello: We think he’s what we say in this family, a
strunz.

Diana Kent: I take it that’s not a good thing.

Frank Gallo: You got that fuckin’ right.

Angelo Marcello: Please, Frank, there’s a lady present.

Diana Kent: Is there a reason, other than perhaps he’s a little stiff? You know, in that way, he’s a little British.

Frank Gallo: We got our reasons.

Angelo Marcello: Anyway, Diana…all we ask is that you watch out for Teddi’s best interests, too. And perhaps you don’t encourage her in this little love affair. The less encouragement she receives, the better.

Diana Kent: Well…there is someone else she likes. In that thunderbolt way, I think, only she won’t admit it, of course.

Vito Marucci Jr. (Angelo Marcello’s grandson): Who?

Diana Kent: Well…let me just keep that to myself. I’ve taken a little
omerta.
See, I am catching on. I even know what that means. But you just leave this all to me.

Angelo Marcello: If you can get her away from this boy, the family would owe you a debt of gratitude.

Diana Kent: Poppy, I love Teddi as much as you all.

Angelo Marcello: We know. You’re a good girl, Diana. How about some dinner?

Diana Kent: I’m starved. I’m telling you, if I had been born Italian, I would weigh two hundred and fifty pounds.