The Promise (The 'Burg #5)(100)

Therefore, I didn’t turn my full attitude on him when I said, “Love you, Sal. You know it. And no disrespect. But the fifties were a really long time ago.”

“I’ll give you that, Frankie, but you couldn’t get a job in Chicago?”

“This isn’t a job, Sal, it’s a career. And you don’t jack people around like that or you’ll find your career gets real short real fast,” I informed him as the light turned green and I hit the gas.

He was silent as I shifted to second, then into third and moved toward the next light, hoping it would stay green.

Finally, Sal spoke again.

“Benny and you, this mean not-so-good things for my Gina?”

I knew what he meant. He knew Ben detested him. Ben might not detest Gina, but Gina came with Sal so he had nothing to do with her by extension. Me with Benny—a Benny who might not demand that I keep his house while he’s out making pizzas, but still was a man who was all man, not to mention Italian American man—meant that he could very well, by extension, demand I had nothing to do with either of them.

Sal was asking for Gina.

But Sal loved me, so Sal was also asking for Sal.

I thought that was sweet and it was precisely why they hadn’t fallen off my Christmas list in eight years.

“We haven’t really worked that out yet,” I said to Sal.

“I see,” Sal murmured.

“Though, I will say, I’ll be at your table again, but I’m sure you won’t be surprised to know that Benny won’t be with me. You know you and Gina mean the world to me, but Ben and I are working this out long-distance, and when we have time together, it’s been all about taking that time to be together. That means I lost track. But next time I’m up, I’ll make certain to take some time with you and Gina.”

I approached my turn and hit my turn signal as Sal replied, “That’d make Gina happy, amata.”

His voice said that would make Sal happy too.

Another five years on my Christmas list.

At least.

“Okay, Sal. Tell her I said ‘hey’ and I miss her.”

“Will do, Frankie. Addio, mia bella.”

“Ciao, Sal.”

I hit the button on my Bluetooth to disconnect and tried to decide if I should share that call with Benny.

I was driving through The Brendal by the time I decided I would, but maybe I’d do it Monday.

Or on the phone on Tuesday.

I was swinging into my spot next to Ben’s Explorer, again feeling happy at the same time perplexed as I saw my other guest spot taken up by a shiny blue Chrysler sedan with Illinois plates, when my cell rang again.

I was seconds away from Benny, however, so I decided the call could wait.

The caller obviously decided the same thing because my phone only rang twice before it stopped ringing.

I was out of my Z and fighting back the urge to skip (or run) to my front door when the door opened and Ben prowled out.

Tee, jeans, running shoes.

Top-to-toe yummy.

I decided on running but didn’t get that first stride in because the look on Ben’s hard face stopped me. If that didn’t do it, him lifting a hand palm toward me did.

I met him on the sidewalk at the end of the path to my door.

“Called you just as you hit your space,” he announced and immediately kept announcing, “Five minutes ago, you got company.”

I looked back at the car in my guest spot that I’d never seen before, then up at Benny and I heard it.

“Frankie!”

Loud. Jovial. Nothing ever got him down because he wouldn’t let it.

I knew that voice.

Enzo Concetti, Senior.

My father.

“Shit,” I whispered, not tearing my eyes from Benny.

“Your dad,” Ben confirmed what I already knew. “I wanted to slam the door in his face but couldn’t. Decided to call but you showed.”

“Fuck,” I got out before Dad descended.

Regardless of the fact I had a purse and computer bag, which would make any embrace awkward, he wrapped his arms around my waist, picked me up, and shook me.

“My baby girl!” he shouted.

I couldn’t move my hands so I just looked down at him and greeted, “Hey, Dad.”

“Heya, gorgeous.” He grinned up at me, then dropped me to my heels, let me go, turned, and clapped Ben hard on the shoulder, leaving his hand there and squeezing. “Girl, you scored yourself the good Bianchi.”

Ben’s face turned to granite.

As for me, my insides shriveled up.

Dad seemed not to notice Ben’s response, or the unbelievable inappropriateness of his words, and squeezed Ben’s shoulder, swaying it forward and back while saying, “No offense to the dead or that other one, uh…Manny.”

I watched as slowly, Ben looked down to the hand on his shoulder before he turned his eyes to me.

This forced me to jerk out of my horrified stupor and cry, sounding desperate and, therefore, loud, “Let’s take this inside.”

Dad, who gave Ben one more sway while I held my breath, hoping Benny wouldn’t blow before Dad let him go, said, “Excellent idea.”

Thankfully, Dad let Ben go, but regretfully, he did it in order to move toward my front door.

I caught Benny’s eyes, giving him a nonverbal, yet still screaming, I’m so sorry.