“Nope.”
No shame.
Mac had none where Melina was concerned.
Melina was just sliding into the driver’s seat when she called out, “Do you want to do something specific for supper? Or are you even going to be home in time for it?”
“I should be. Or do you want to meet up somewhere?”
“How about I bring something home?”
Mac nodded. “Sounds gr—”
His words were cut off when a familiar jingle sounded from his slack’s pocket. The unmistakable ringtone belonged solely to Luca’s private number that he used to contact his men. Melina heard it, too, as she glanced down at his pocket from the driver’s seat.
“Sorry, doll,” he said.
Melina just shrugged—she was getting used to their conversations and time being interrupted by Cosa Nostra, but that didn’t mean it was easy. “Give me a call if our plans need to change for tonight, all right?”
“Will do.”
Melina mouthed her “I love you” just as Mac answered the call on the second ring. He greeted the Pivetti Don while watching his wife pull out of the parking spot and head back toward the heart of Brooklyn.
“Boss,” Mac said, phone to his ear. “What can I do for you today?”
“Mac—Timothy’s Diner, thirty minutes.”
Shit.
Luca didn’t sound very pleased, but then again, it had been less than a week since one of his best friends and right-hand man was killed. That was sure to do some kind of number on even the coldest of men.
Even if they hid it well.
“Sure, boss,” Mac replied. “What’s happening?”
Tribute was another two weeks away yet, so that wasn’t it. Mac hadn’t done anything that would warrant him getting in shit or earning him a personal call from Luca to have a chat about it. And as far as the killing thing went, Luca had kept everyone and their fucking mothers at arm’s length ever since Matthew was gunned down on the night of Mac’s wedding.
Things were strange.
People were talking.
That was never a good sign.
Mac had a feeling that Luca wouldn’t let the nonsense go on for long.
The Pivetti Don’s next words confirmed Mac’s thoughts.
“It’s time to talk about Matthew,” Luca said, “and what we’re going to do about it.”
Mac was already heading toward his car before Luca had even finished his sentence.
Mac strolled through the front doors of Timothy’s Diner, and walked straight into a shouting match.
As was usual for the small, hole-in-a-wall diner, it was void of patrons that were not in some way connected to the Pivetti Cosa Nostra. So was the way with their businesses and the streets they ran like kings. It was not uncommon for an establishment to become claimed by mob affiliation in some way, shape, or form. Automatically, word would travel to the streets that the joint was not very welcoming to outsiders. Then, made men could safely come and go from those businesses to discuss whatever needed discussed without fear of someone overhearing. The owners of the joints were always well compensated for their … cooperation.
Timothy’s Diner was just one of many places.
And it was good for business.
“Those fucking savages, likely,” one Capo shouted.
Mac checked his watch, noting that no, he wasn’t late for the meeting. He’d made it in lots of time, just as Luca demanded during his short phone call. Tardiness was not in any way acceptable to the Don.
But even though he clearly wasn’t late, the meeting had obviously already started without him. It also seemed like everyone else was already there.
Mac didn’t mind.
Taking a seat in the back, he was determined to stay out of the drama as much as he could—God knew Mac had enough problems with a good majority of the Capos attending the meeting.
He wasn’t the least bit interested in getting into yet another verbal sparring match with one of the Pivetti Capos. It didn’t even seem like it was optional with some of these men. Mac only needed to open his mouth and someone else would be at the ready with an argument, wanting to disagree with him simply because he had an opinion to share.
Mac didn’t know if it was because he was the youngest Capo in the family, the way he had come about getting his button, his father’s shitty past in la famiglia, or the interest the boss had shown in him months ago.
Or hell … maybe it was a mixture of all four things.
Who fucking knew?
Mac didn’t have any desire to poke that bear today. Not with the boss watching, anyway. It wouldn’t lead to anywhere good.
Another shout brought Mac back to the conversation at hand. It was a new Capo this time with another opinion to share, apparently.