“No. Just from the drive in. I ended up trying to take a nap.”
“A lot of history. You gotta go to that fort. It’s right out in the harbor. They gotta boat ride every hour. Pretty interesting. There was a battle, the first one of the war, but no one died. The South fired on the fort, and the North just surrendered. I have to say, I was disappointed to hear that. They didn’t put up a fight or nothing.”
“Pass the wine, John,” Mary said. This was the first time she had spoken directly to me all evening, so I eagerly accommodated, quickly reaching across the round table for the bottle. I poured her, then me, another full glass.
“The wine is pretty good.” I made a show of reading the label before setting the bottle down.
“Not bad,” Sal said.
I tried to smile, looked over at Ethan, who was happily guzzling his second Sprite, and pushed my plate away.
“You done?” Sal asked.
“I’m not that hungry.” I checked the time again. T-minus pretty soon before I had to inform Mary about Ocean View. I glanced over at her to assess her mood, but when we made eye contact, I immediately looked away.
This was not going to be easy. Mary was already dealing with a lot, and now I was going to take her youngest child to live in Maine forever. I never should have waited, never should have let it get to this point. I should have told her the moment I got the call. She was his mother. His mother. I reached for my wine, drained half the glass. Maybe I should wait until tomorrow morning. A good night’s sleep. Coffee. Maybe tomorrow morning would be better.
“Hey, I saw our friend in the lobby,” Sal mumbled in my ear.
“What?”
“You know, our friend the Jaw.”
“Roger? What did he say?”
Sal waited until Sally asked Mary a question about the hotel before whispering, “Wanted to know where she was.”
“What did you say?”
“I told him it was none of his goddamn business.”
“Sal.”
“He tried to shake my hand, all polite. Piece of shit.”
“I wish he’d leave town,” I said.
Sal leaned in, and I could feel his breath, hot in my ear. “I can make him leave town. Hey, I make a couple of calls, I can make him leave earth.”
Before Sal said something that a district attorney could force me to repeat under oath in front of a grand jury, our waiter wheeled out the dessert tray. Sal actually rubbed his chin in thought before daintily pointing at the crème br?lée. Mindy ordered Ethan a hot fudge sundae.
“I don’t think he should eat that,” Karen said.
Mindy smirked. “Why?”
“Because he’ll make a mess. You can’t give him chocolate.”
“If you’re worried about your dress, move. Switch places. He likes chocolate.”
“Where. Ice. Cream. Be?”
“Chocolate makes him hyper. You want him up all night?”
“Those two,” Sal said.
“Chocolate doesn’t make him hyper.”
I finished my wine and poured one more glass. Though I wasn’t keeping an official tally, I knew I had eclipsed my two-drink minimum and was now walking the very fine line that separates the buzzed from the bombed.
“You’d think the little one would cut her some slack. All things considered,” Sal said. He pulled out a cigar from his coat pocket.
“Sal,” Sally said.
Sal grudgingly put the cigar away. “What’s the point of eating outside?”
I reached for my wineglass again
“Dark. Outside,” Ethan said.
“What the hell, I’m going to make a toast,” Sal announced.
“What?” I looked at him, frantic. Though well intentioned, Sal’s toasts had a tendency to devolve into Mussolini-like rants, complete with emotional declarations of family supremacy, vehement proclamations of love, and, on occasion, veiled threats against unseen enemies. “Don’t,” I said. “Sal, please.”
Sal stood. “I was gonna give a toast at the wedding, so I’m gonna give one here. What the hell.”
“Sit down, Sal,” Sally said. She began rubbing her throat while nervously eyeing the other tables.
“Thirty seconds, that’s all I need. I’m not running for president here. I’m her godfather, and I want to say a few things.” He smiled at Karen, who stared at him, stone-faced. “Honey…,” Sal began. “All I want to say is, you’re gonna be all right. You’re gonna meet some great guy, and you’re going get married. A doctor. A lawyer. Maybe a ballplayer. You’re beautiful. Look at her, she’s a damn model. I could fix you up in a minute. I got lots of friends. Good guys.”
I thought I heard Mindy mumble, “You mean, Good fellas.”
Sal continued. “So you’re going to be all right. It’s that prick’s loss. He’s a damn fucking prick, and if he comes near you, I swear to God, I will personally—”