A Little Slice of Heaven (11 page)

“
Yes. So?”

“
Well, now,” Rory said slowly. “I’m going to have to run this past David—”

He nearly laughed, but kept his emotions in check between gritted teeth. “Go ahead. Run everything past David. I want our legal eagle to see his dire predictions didn’t come true. Show him I’m doing fine.”

“
That’s not what worries me, Kyle. This could be considered a conflict of interest and therefore, inadmissible under the rules of the agreement.”

“
Why the hell would you think that?”

“
Think, okay? How can David and I be certain Gianna Randazzo didn’t sign a phony check on your behalf so we’ll assume you’re succeeding when you’re not? Particularly if she’s receiving something from you in return.”

Was he kidding? The blood in Kyle’s veins chilled to ice water. “Call the bank and verify I cashed the damned thing.”

“
Still wouldn’t be enough. David and I will have to talk about this and get back to you. You have a phone number where I can reach you?”

He read the blurry numbers from the tiny strip in the center of the dial.

“
Okay,” Rory replied. “I’ll call you as soon as David and I come up with a solution.”

A solution for what? If Rory planned to stall in the hope Kyle would stumble, he obviously underestimated Gianna, who’d pick him up before he hit the ground. All the more reason to make this dream happen.

“
I want this to happen within the next twenty-four hours,” he insisted.

“
Hey, take it easy!” Rory exclaimed. “You’re not in charge anymore, remember? You’re now no different than any other average Joe to this firm, and you’ll hear from me when you hear from me.”

“
You have stock in Nike, don’t you, Rory?”

“
Yeah, so?”

“
Remember their motto and ‘Just do it.’ You got that?” Without waiting for a response, he slammed the phone back on the cradle for effect. Why hadn’t he ever noticed before now that his best friend was a pencil-pushing idiot?

***

That Tuesday evening, the ROMEOs arrived at precisely seven o’clock. Well accustomed to their routine, Gianna had kept their traditional corner table set and waiting. Within minutes, the five men sat in their usual seats, placing their usual orders. Naturally, the usual banter rang around them.

“
How’s my favorite schoolteacher doing?” bald, heavy-set Angelo DiNunzio, former electrician, asked.

“
I’m fine,” Gianna replied. “What’s up with you guys?”

“
Same old,” tall, slender Mike said, raking a hand through his snow white hair. “Did you see the Islander game last night?”

“
You guys were at the Coliseum?” Gianna asked.

Angelo jerked his head toward the man on his right. “Curt knows a guy who works for the food distributor. Got us some great seats.”

“
You ever wanna attend anything there; concert, game, ice show, let me know, Gi,” the third member, Curtis Washington, retired accountant, chimed in. “Depending upon the demand, my pal Don can usually finagle a coupla chairs on the floor. Sometimes he gets box seats.”

“
You shoulda been there last night,” Angelo exclaimed. “The game was tied with less than two minutes left in the third period. Then, Sillinger makes this shot.” In imitation of a hockey puck gliding over the ice, he slid his hand over the tablecloth. “Beautiful. Just beautiful. You oughta go with us sometime, Gianna. We even got Hayley over her ‘all Yankees, all the time’ fixation to attend once. She had a blast.”

Yeah, Hayley had gone into great detail about that trip, bringing Gianna to belly-aching laughter with her descriptions of a night with the ROMEOs.

Before they left Setquott Beach, Angelo stopped at the supermarket to buy a five pound pound bag of unshelled peanuts. Once at Nassau Coliseum, he insisted she stuff the nuts in her purse to get them past Security. After they found their seats, the five men polished off the entire bag, letting peanut shells fall on their laps and the floor because, “that’s what the cleaning crew gets paid for.” Cups of beer flowed like water from Niagara Falls, and when the nuts finally ran out, the men turned their appetites to hot dogs.

During the game, they cheered every punch thrown by the players, booed every call the ref made against the home team, and got to their feet to argue with another fan about a questionable penalty charge. At the end of the night, before taking Hayley home, they made a run to the nearest drug store for antacids and Tylenol. Throughout the evening, poor Hayley wound up acting like a den mother at a Cub Scout jamboree. She broke up arguments, mopped spilled beer from shirtfronts, and then chipped in for gas for the ride home.

Thanks, Gianna thought, but no thanks.

“
Can we get some of those little flat breads, Gi?” Curtis asked, bringing her back to the here and now.

 “
You bet.” Gianna headed for the kitchen.

Curtis grabbed her hand. “And a house salad? With dressing on the side? Balsamic vinegar and olive oil, if you’ve got it.”

“
Are you on a diet, Curt?” Number four, retired police officer Patrick O’Mara, asked.

“
Yep.” Curtis circled his round belly with the flat of his hand. “I need to lose a few pounds. I even started working out.”

Sol Fuchs, the last of the red-hot ROMEOs, chortled. “Sounds like Curt’s got a new lady friend.”

All five of them were unattached, widowed or divorced. After all, Angelo always said, “What wife would allow her husband to go out without her three times a week?” Not to mention the many golf excursions, pilgrimages to every major sporting event from baseball to wrestling, and other field trips the ROMEOs took on a regular basis.

“
Nah.” Still holding Gianna’s wrist, Curt lifted her hand to his lips. “This lady here’s the only girl for me. What’s the date of that wedding again, Gianna? I’ll make sure my best suit’s cleaned and pressed for the occasion.”

With a gentle tug, Gianna pulled her hand away. “Umm…”

“
You?” Angelo scoffed, puffing out his barrel chest. “Why would she take you when she could go with me?”

A quick hand wave and Sol sneered, “Please. Neither of you can dance worth a damn. I, on the other hand, used to teach at Arthur Murray.”

“
Yeah,” Mike added with a snort. “In the forties. Trust me, Sol, dancing’s changed a lot in the last sixty years.”

Sensing a crisis brewing in this United Nations, Gianna attempted to halt the speculation before fists flew. “Actually, I’ve—”

Too late. Curtis plucked ice from his water glass and tossed a cube at Mike’s nose. In retaliation, Mike balled his napkin and pitched the white paper, missing Curtis and hitting ten-year-old Gabriella Tullo’s head.

With a shocked gasp, Gabbie whirled. “Hey!”

The men broke into guffaws of laughter while Mike effused red-faced apologies to the entire Tullo family.

When Mr. Tullo continued to glare daggers, Mike announced, “Their dinner’s on me, Gi,” which instantly won them over.

“
I’ll tell Kyle,” she said. “That’s his table.”

As if summoned by her mention, Kyle strode past her then, a round tray filled with dirty dishes and half-empty plastic soda tumblers hoisted over his shoulder.

Before she could mention the Tullos’ check, however, Angelo chimed in. “So, who’s it gonna be, sweetheart? Which of the ROMEOs gets to take you out on the town?”

“
Actually,” she said again, “Kyle has agreed to take me.”

“
Kyle?” Mike’s voice boomed off the walls, and several diners turned to stare. “Who’s Kyle?”

“
I am.” When Kyle spoke, his breath brushed her ear.

How had he slipped up behind her so quietly? While the old men had distracted her, Kyle had somehow managed to drop off his tray and pop up inches from her side.

Curtis slid his thick bifocals down his nose and peered over them. “You? Who are you?”

At the same time, Sol asked, “Can you dance?”

“
Yes, I can dance.”

Sol harrumphed. “Prove it. Take Gi here for a whirl.”

The room spun. As if she held a life preserver, she gripped her order pad and clung. “Now?” she croaked through a tight throat. “Here?”

“
Yes, here and yes, now,” Sol insisted.

A flurry of applause erupted, from the ROMEOs, the other patrons, even a grinning Sal, who leaned in the doorway near the kitchen. When she flashed him a look meant to send him scurrying, he did just that. Seconds later, the sounds of Tony Bennett singing, “The Very Thought of You” filled the room.

Arms open, Kyle waited. No panic reflected on his features. What drugs had he taken, and where could she get some? The idea of slow dancing in the middle of this dining room made her feet leaden. Muscles constricted. Taking a step required more effort than a team of workhorses could muster.

He must have sensed her immobility because he came near and folded her into his embrace. One hand clasped hers, secure but not suffocating. When he bowed forward, she automatically tipped back. The music took control, or Kyle did. Either way, she no longer directed her movements. Some invisible puppeteer pulled her strings, making each step, each glide across the floor, like dancing on a cloud. Heaven. Kyle led her with effortless grace.

Beneath the colorful glow of the stained glass lamps, his eyes took on a rainbow of hues, warm and comforting, hot and intoxicating. Impossible to tear her gaze away. Only the music mattered, the music and the man. Tony’s voice crooned words echoed in her heart. The first song ended, and after a brief pause, Tony broke into the slightly up-tempo, “Rags to Riches.”

Without missing a beat, Kyle swept her around the room, never brushing against a chair, a knee, or a tablecloth. Boneless, Gianna depended on him for everything but the air she breathed.

The next song, “Steppin’ Out” sped their pace, but Kyle never faltered. While two and a half blissful minutes elapsed, the restaurant faded, the customers and staff disappeared. When the third song ended, Kyle slowed, and then stopped. Dropping his arms to his sides, he offered her a slight bow and returned to the Tullos’ table without a word. The moment he turned, Gianna left her celestial playground, crashing to earth on the applause of the entire population of
Villa Mare
.

“
I’d say that’s a big yes to the dancing question.” Mike’s awed tone filtered through her cloudy brain.

Quick, she told herself. Do something. “Umm,” she managed, “I’ll get your salad.”

Somehow, she managed to walk sedately to the kitchen where she headed straight for the Sub-Zero. Swinging the door of the giant freezer wide, she ducked her head inside to inhale frigid air and cool the fire crackling over her skin.

Chapter Eight

As he’d done for endless days and nights since his arrival at
Villa Mare
, Kyle pounded another ball of dough into a thin, round crust and ladled tomato sauce atop. While his gloved fingers gathered shredded mozzarella from the nearby stainless steel tray, his eyes watched Gianna. Nothing in her demeanor had changed over the last several days, and his impatience grew as the minutes ticked by.
Dough, sauce, cheese. Pop in the oven. Dough, sauce, cheese. Pop in the oven.
 

Damn Rory! He should have straightened out this mess by now. When the telephone rang for the millionth time since his conversation with his accountant, he nearly jumped out of his skin. Again.

“
Thank you for calling
Villa Mare
,” Claudio mumbled into the receiver. After a pause he continued, “Large-a pie, extra cheese. Anything else? No? Phone number?” Another pause as he scribbled the information on an order pad. “Ten-a minoots.”

Nope, not Lucinda. Just another damn pizza order. Before Claudio hung up the phone and ripped the paper off the pad, Kyle had opened the refrigerator door beneath the counter and pulled out another ball of dough.

“
You got that, Jeeves?” Claudio waved the order. “One large-a pie with extra cheese.”

“
Got it, Mumbles.”

Lord, he was sick of making pizzas. At least the dining room was closed on Wednesday nights, which meant less work than usual. Take-out orders consisted of the mundane—large pies, occasionally with toppings, a few heroes, several calzones, and the rare baked ziti or ravioli parmiagiana for a late working employee from the hospital or university.

Only two weeks working here and he already thanked God for Wednesdays. Despite the lighter workload, though, on this particular Wednesday Gianna wore the same expression of thoughtful misery she’d donned since the morning with Hayley. Occasionally, she winced or sucked in a sharp breath, as if Hayley’s backhanded compliments and evil step-sisterly advice bounced around inside her brain with the force of a racquetball in eternal play. But she wouldn’t confide in him.

He glared, willing the phone to ring with the power of his eyes.
Come on already, Rory. How much time do you need to make a wish come true?
 

The bell over the front door jangled, and he jumped. Shoot. Just another overweight lady, this one in her mid-thirties with three boisterous, dark-haired toddlers in tow.

“
Mrs. Melendez,” Gianna greeted her. “I haven’t seen you here in weeks. How’s the job hunt going?”

“
Eh.” With an exhausted sigh, the woman sank into the booth nearest the window. “I have an interview with a new computer company off the Expressway. You know the one, CompTech?”

Order pad in hand, Gianna strode to the booth. “That’s wonderful!”

“
Not so wonderful. The interview’s tomorrow at eleven, and I don’t have anyone to watch the little ones.”

Oh, God, no
. Kyle knew exactly where this conversation would lead. Though the idea repulsed him, he could more easily stop a runaway train than keep Gianna from offering help to someone in need.