“Richie Rizzoli… holy hell,” Miles replied. “It’s been forever.”
“I can’t believe they finally let you out,” Ruin said as he shook Miles’s hand.
“Hi, Miles,” a petite female with a head of long black curls and deep red lipstick said from behind Ruin. Miles immediately recognized her as his cousin, Rumor.
“Hey Ru!” Miles said, happy to see a familiar face. “You two?”
Ruin laughed as he grasped Rumor’s hand. “Yeah… Six months now, we’ve been together, right, hun?”
Rumor rolled her eyes. “Eight. But who’s counting?”
Standing up from his chair, Miles towered over both of them. Miles could remember when he and Richie both stood shoulder to shoulder in elementary school. Miles slapped Ruin hard on his back, damn near knocking the wind out of his chest.
Ruin looked Miles up and down and laughed. “You look nothing like I remember you!”
“Yet you recognized him from across the restaurant,” Landon said with a nonplussed look on his face.
“Hey Landy,” Rumor said as she pinched her cousin’s cheeks.
“Stop that, and don’t call me Landy anymore!” Landon complained. “It’s Landon. I’m a man now.”
“I’m sowwy!” Rumor said in her best baby voice.
“Dude, you look nothing like I remember either,” Miles said as he slapped Ruin’s bulging bicep.
Fucking ’roids. He’s probably got a pecker the size of a tictac.
Ruin threw his head back as a laugh ripped from his mouth. “So when did they let you out?”
“Like an hour ago.” Miles nodded towards Landon. “The kid picked me up.”
“I was just saying to Rumor that my buddy Miles owned a Charger like the one that’s parked outside…” Ruin mentioned.
“Oh, yeah. That’s Corina.”
“You still have the car?” Ruin asked in a shocked voice.
“Yeah… A buddy of mine had kept her safe in his garage in Jersey City.”
“Knox started a rumor that it was riddled with bullet holes…” Ruin said, giving Miles a look of disbelief.
“Yeah, well, what else is new? My brother always was full of shit.”
“So, damn… buddy. What’s with the beard?” Ruin asked with a bewildered look on his face.
Miles lifted his eyebrow. It was a conversation starter for sure. Running his fingers through his beard, the soft hair grazed against the rough skin of his hand.
Winking at a girl at the next table, Miles replied, “The ladies dig the beard, man.”
The beautiful blonde at the next table over gave Miles a smoldering smile. She smoothed her long blonde hair down her back and summed Miles up in a glance. Lifting an eyebrow, blondie was impressed. Miles stroked his beard and gave her a wink. That was all the verification that he needed.
The kitchen doors swung open as Rita emerged with a tray full of steaming hot food.
“Hate to cut you short but…” Miles began as he turned from Rumor and Ruin to take his seat.
“Oh, yeah… yeah… I’ll catch up with you later. What’s your cell number? I’ll call you,” Ruin said, clearly forgetting that Miles just got out of the clink.
“Yeah, I’ll get back at ya when I get that far,” Miles replied.
“Oh, right. All right, man… see ya…” Ruin said as he backed away with Rumor’s hand in his.
Miles didn’t expel another ounce of energy upholding the conversation as Rita placed his deep dish of putanesca in front of him. The scent brought him back to 1998. It was as if he hadn’t just spent half his life in a cell. It was like Miles was seventeen again. Twirling his fork around the angel hair pasta, Miles dug into the best meal of his life.
“Dude, you should reserve those noises for the sack,” Landon said with a laugh as he watched Miles eat.
Flipping Landon the bird, Miles continued to savor his meal, not giving a flying fuck what anybody thought of him, his beard, or the sounds he made while eating the best meal of his twisted life.
After he was finished eating, Miles flagged down Rita and asked for the check. In typical Rita fashion, she was back in 2.5 seconds. Miles paid the bill in cash and left an eighteen percent tip.
Because I’m classy like that, Miles thought.
Miles told the kid to quit making goo-goo eyes at the blonde at the next table, and wrap it up.
I have things to see and a woman to do. Maybe I said that wrong? Nope. I crack myself up.
CHAPTER THREE
“C’MON, ANTE UP!” Michael Capadonno spat as he picked his cards up off the table.