Dinner With The Mafia. Armando Lazzari
right out the front door.”
The man speaking about Ben’s adventure was called Valerio Esposito. From a recently immigrated Italian family, he was part of the group called the “Observers”, who looked after the young man’s physical well-being, unbeknownst to him. Esposito, like a doctor, was available when necessary to administer the proper “therapy”.
“We need to take some cautionary act against that guy, just to make sure he won’t be interfering again. What did you say his name was? Jerkoff?”
“Jerkov. Bill Jercov. And I’ve already taken the liberty to prescribe a tranquilizer.”
Coincidentally, whenever Ben got involved in some kind of annoying trouble, Joe could feel a strange pain in his gut, a burning in his stomach like he was breathing embers of fire. He figured it was only frustration, attributing the cause to his addiction to the mints that he couldn’t get enough of. From a wood box on his desk, he took a cigar and lit it up in hopes that it would calm the unpleasant feeling.
Colombia Presbyterian Medical Center
Dr. Newman was looking over the new patient’s medical chart.
“Nasal septum, mouth, both legs and your right arm broken. Well, for a simple fall, you’re sure a mess.”
The patient, in a state of confusion, partly due to the painkillers, was desperately attempting to open his mouth to show the empty spaces between his teeth.
“Ah, I see. Also missing an upper molar and an incisor. All right, we’ll get you fixed up in no time, Mr… Jerkoff?!”
The doctor walked off with a smug smile on his face, followed by two gorgeous nurses while Bill whispered, “Je… rko… v!”
Clearly, Bill’s feeble attempt at correcting his last name was useless. The patient’s file had already been completed with the insulting wrong name.
Bloomberg Tower
Joe appeared satisfied, rotating his armchair back around, deeming to look his visitors straight in the eye.
“Well done, good job. Now, where is my nephew? Is he still with the girl?”
Esposito answered confidently, pleased with a job well done, “Yes. They’re together right now. Near 6th Avenue at that restaurant called The Italian Affair.”
The Italian Affair Restaurant
Ben and Susan were still a little rattled from their experience; they caught their breaths while sipping their wine at an elegantly set table. Between the two, Ben was the one most shaken up by the events of the evening.
“I still can’t believe what happened! It was absurd, incredible. I had a funny feeling about that job. I should have listened to my sixth sense…something wasn’t right about it. I should have turned around and run the other way as soon as I set foot in that place.”
Susan looked at him with a puzzled expression. “Well, I’ve got to say, it doesn’t take a genius to figure out what kind of club it is! I only took the job because if I don’t have the money by the end of the month, I won’t be able to pay my rent and I’ll be on the street. But you? Why the hell did you accept? You don’t look you fit in with those kind of people. Or like you’re hard up for money, seeing as the way you’re dressed.”
Ben, embarrassed, looked down at his clothes, awkwardly trying to hide the Emporio Armani signature.
“Oh ya. I mean no! I’m not a loser or a convict or anything like that, but I’m not a millionaire either. My uncle got me a great deal for the suit from some relatives from Italy. But gee, now that you mention it, you’re out of a job because of me.”
“No, don’t worry about it. It’s not your fault. I don’t think I could have stood it much longer there, anyway. Tonight was the perfect occasion to get away from those perverts who kept trying to feel me up.”
Ben felt lucky to have always had a family who was there for him no matter what, helping him out in every way.
“But now how are you going to pay the rent? I mean, have you got someone to help you? Your mom or dad, a relative, a boyfriend…?”
He casually threw the question out there, just to ascertain her status, while he swigged his wine to hide the fact.
“I’ve never had a real family, and regarding men…ugh, forget it!”
Red flags were waving in Ben’s mind, which made him curious to find out more. “In what way…do you mean you, and men…you don’t like…?”
He had always thought of himself as open-minded to the idea of a lesbian friend, but in all honesty, if it were true, it would have shattered a few of his fantasies he’d already had about Susan.
“Are you asking me if I like women? Well, what would be wrong with that? You like women, don’t you?”
He blushed for even bringing up the subject. Pushing his chair back, he sat up straight and tried to wipe the look of a predator off his face.
“Ya, I’ve always wondered how women do it.”
Susan burst out laughing, and Ben realized that he was way off the mark.
“You fell…hook, line and sinker!” Even if she couldn’t stop laughing, she did her best to control herself.
“You mean to tell me that you were pulling my leg?” Although relieved that she wasn’t into women, he was pretty shocked at the idea of being made fun of by someone he barely knew.
“Sorry, I couldn’t resist. Plus I wanted to break up some of the tension. Are you ok now?”
She tilted her head and nibbling at a piece of bread, kept looking mischievously at him. That gesture, apparently insignificant, was extremely seductive to Ben. It went straight to his heart and tied him to her forever.
“Ya, thanks. It’s usually me who has to contrive ways to make other people laugh.”
The waiter brought their steamy first courses. For Ben, bucatini ‘all’amatriciana’ and for Susan, homemade fettuccine with pancetta and asparagus. While Ben rubbed his hands together in front of his plate, Susan’s stared, open-mouthed at hers.
“Wow! Except for pizza and spaghetti, can you believe that this is the first time I’ve ever tasted real Italian food?”
“Really? I have a hard time not eating it; in the traditional Italian family, cuisine is very important. So, ‘buon appetito’. I hope you enjoy it.”
At first, Susan found it a little difficult to twist the fettuccine around her fork, but then got the hang of it and started emanating sounds of rapture with every bite. The people dining at the nearby tables thought it was rather funny, while the owner of the restaurant was delighted.
When Susan had cleaned her plate, Ben offered her a taste of his bucatini and she didn’t hesitate.
“This food is amazing! Now I understand your parents!”
A cloud of nostalgia passed through Ben’s thoughts. “Actually, my Uncle Carmine raised me, along with my other uncles. My mother died giving birth to me. And my father, well, I only have a few memories of him. He was out for a walk and found himself in the middle of a shootout and was hit by a random bullet when I was just two-years-old. The greatest thing that I inherited from him was my vocation. He was a comedian, a great comedian. I think he would have made it big, if only he’d had the time.”
“So, in a way, you’re trying to break into the business to honor him?”
“Well, in part, yes. But mostly it’s for me. I truly love this work and I know he would have understood and supported me. Unlike my uncles…”
Ben wanted to talk about himself, but was worried about boring Susan, so he tried prompting her with incomplete sentences to see if she was really interested.
“Your relatives aren’t happy with what you do? So, do they want you to do something else?”