didn’t sneak around like a little weasel!”
“I’m a grown woman, and I have every right
to ‘sneak around’ as I please!” Gia shouted with extreme
conviction. “This is not old world Italy, this is America, and you
don’t own me! I was born here, and I now even have the right to
vote, for God’s sake!”
Gino’s vicious demeanor suddenly softened,
and his grip on Ira’s collar went slack. The young man then
breathed a huge sigh of relief, thinking he may actually survive
this day.
“How could you disrespect me like this?” the
Don asked his beloved daughter in a melancholy voice she hadn’t
heard from him since the night her mother died. “I’m the man who
raised you, I gave you everything…”
“I didn’t do this to disrespect you, Papa,”
Gia replied in a lower tone. “I did this ’cause I’m my own woman,
and this has made me happy. It wasn’t about you, okay?”
“Boss… Mr. Provenzo, can I please say
something?” Ira suddenly interjected with a slight stammer. “I’m
sorry we didn’t tell you, it was my fault, and I thought you
would—”
Don Provenzo abruptly ended Ira’s attempted
plea by sticking his meaty index finger in his face. “Don’t make
excuses for her! Or for yourself. We have an important meeting to
get out of the way now, but you can bet your hooch-swilling little
Irish ass that we’re gonna talk long and hard about this
afterwards. Got it?”
“I got it, Boss,” was Ira’s nervous reply,
as the combination of his terror and the summer sun caused him to
perspire so much that he hoped his suit wasn’t soaked.
“Then let’s take care of this shit,” Gino
said as he directed his entourage to continue towards the diner
entrance. “We’ll pick up on this later.”
Gia then approached Ira and took his arm,
speaking to him softly. “Don’t worry, it’s gonna be okay. I told
you he was gonna find out sooner or later, and now that it’s outta
the bag we’ll deal with it together, all right?”
Ira simply nodded his head and followed his
boss into the restaurant, not uttering another word.
* * *
The quaint but clean interior of Alex’s Diner was
certainly not the posh eatery that people of Gino’s caliber were
accustomed to. But he understood the importance of the location’s
neutrality, and he was here to dispense important business, not
treat himself to a meal fully worthy of a man of his station. He
noticed but one other customer: A young woman in a flowered dress
who couldn’t be older than 19 sequestered in a distant corner
table, quietly reading the latest issue of The Buffalo News and sipping on a milkshake. A few employees, consisting of two
middle-aged women dressed in typical drab restaurant work attire
and aprons, furtively went about their business behind the counter.
They said nothing to each other or the newest group of patrons
entering the establishment.
“Geez Louise, what a dive,” Pinaro noted
aloud. “Couldn’t ya have found a neutral place that served anything
better than greasy cow burgers, Boss?”
“No, and just shut up,” the Don tersely
replied. “We’re here on business, and don’t you forget your job.
Getting treated to the best cuisine in the area isn’t part of that
job, Killer.”
Gia smirked. “Papa always gives us the best,
no doubt,” she lamented with a visible hint of sarcasm.
“Enough out of you, little girl!” Gino
snapped. “I’ve always given you nothing but the best, including
that expensive satin bias dress you’re wearing right now… unlike any other ladies we’ve seen today. Do you know how
pricey it was to find that style of dress with the leg o’ mutton
sleeves you like?”
“This shore is one beautiful gown,” Gia said
in response. “But let’s face it, Papa, ya bought it for me ’cause
you feel how I look in public is a reflection on you. Let’s just be
callin’ it like it is here.”
Gino scowled. “You ungrateful little—”
“Uh, Boss…” Fido interjected,
“I’m a grown woman, and I have every right
to ‘sneak around’ as I please!” Gia shouted with extreme
conviction. “This is not old world Italy, this is America, and you
don’t own me! I was born here, and I now even have the right to
vote, for God’s sake!”
Gino’s vicious demeanor suddenly softened,
and his grip on Ira’s collar went slack. The young man then
breathed a huge sigh of relief, thinking he may actually survive
this day.
“How could you disrespect me like this?” the
Don asked his beloved daughter in a melancholy voice she hadn’t
heard from him since the night her mother died. “I’m the man who
raised you, I gave you everything…”
“I didn’t do this to disrespect you, Papa,”
Gia replied in a lower tone. “I did this ’cause I’m my own woman,
and this has made me happy. It wasn’t about you, okay?”
“Boss… Mr. Provenzo, can I please say
something?” Ira suddenly interjected with a slight stammer. “I’m
sorry we didn’t tell you, it was my fault, and I thought you
would—”
Don Provenzo abruptly ended Ira’s attempted
plea by sticking his meaty index finger in his face. “Don’t make
excuses for her! Or for yourself. We have an important meeting to
get out of the way now, but you can bet your hooch-swilling little
Irish ass that we’re gonna talk long and hard about this
afterwards. Got it?”
“I got it, Boss,” was Ira’s nervous reply,
as the combination of his terror and the summer sun caused him to
perspire so much that he hoped his suit wasn’t soaked.
“Then let’s take care of this shit,” Gino
said as he directed his entourage to continue towards the diner
entrance. “We’ll pick up on this later.”
Gia then approached Ira and took his arm,
speaking to him softly. “Don’t worry, it’s gonna be okay. I told
you he was gonna find out sooner or later, and now that it’s outta
the bag we’ll deal with it together, all right?”
Ira simply nodded his head and followed his
boss into the restaurant, not uttering another word.
* * *
The quaint but clean interior of Alex’s Diner was
certainly not the posh eatery that people of Gino’s caliber were
accustomed to. But he understood the importance of the location’s
neutrality, and he was here to dispense important business, not
treat himself to a meal fully worthy of a man of his station. He
noticed but one other customer: A young woman in a flowered dress
who couldn’t be older than 19 sequestered in a distant corner
table, quietly reading the latest issue of The Buffalo News and sipping on a milkshake. A few employees, consisting of two
middle-aged women dressed in typical drab restaurant work attire
and aprons, furtively went about their business behind the counter.
They said nothing to each other or the newest group of patrons
entering the establishment.
“Geez Louise, what a dive,” Pinaro noted
aloud. “Couldn’t ya have found a neutral place that served anything
better than greasy cow burgers, Boss?”
“No, and just shut up,” the Don tersely
replied. “We’re here on business, and don’t you forget your job.
Getting treated to the best cuisine in the area isn’t part of that
job, Killer.”
Gia smirked. “Papa always gives us the best,
no doubt,” she lamented with a visible hint of sarcasm.
“Enough out of you, little girl!” Gino
snapped. “I’ve always given you nothing but the best, including
that expensive satin bias dress you’re wearing right now… unlike any other ladies we’ve seen today. Do you know how
pricey it was to find that style of dress with the leg o’ mutton
sleeves you like?”
“This shore is one beautiful gown,” Gia said
in response. “But let’s face it, Papa, ya bought it for me ’cause
you feel how I look in public is a reflection on you. Let’s just be
callin’ it like it is here.”
Gino scowled. “You ungrateful little—”
“Uh, Boss…” Fido interjected,
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