“Ah,” he said, reaching for the glass again. “I’ll give you better odds than that. My grandfather and father were fond of your father. If you follow in his footsteps, I can assure you the same fondness will be passed down to you, as well. You will succeed where your father couldn’t.”
I lifted my glass. “That means a great deal to me.”
We clanked glasses and then drained the rest of the liquid.
I set my empty glass down on the desk. “I have every intention of following in my father’s footsteps. This area was his heart. His legacy will live on.”
“Spoken like a true poet and a good son.” Rocco grinned. Then he reached into his pocket and handed me a gold card with black scribble on it.
You owe me.
Mac
The card naturally slid between my pointer and middle finger, and I lifted them up so the card was facing him. I said one word. “Cormick.”
He nodded. “It is always wise to have an ally in times of war.”
Breaking eye contact, I stared at the card for a moment longer. “One I owe a favor.” Then I met his stare again.
He shrugged. “Business is business. We do what we must to close the deal.”
“To secure it,” I said.
“Neither here nor there. Rest assured. His intentions run parallel with yours, as long as your intentions stay true to course.”
It wasn’t always what was said in this business that made the difference—it was how it was said. The Faustis could be blunt if they wanted to, but the art of subtlety ran through their blood like a unique DNA.
Rocco’s words translated: As long as you don’t fuck us over, and whoever this Mac is, he’ll play nice with you. We’ll play nice with you.
Mac was offering me an easier way in, which meant that the Faustis, along with whoever this Mac was, wanted me where I was. But the question still stood: why? I knew better than to ask a dumb question that would go without an answer anyway.
Yeah, kids, there is such a thing as a stupid fucking question.
Rocco slid another card toward me. “You’ve earned your degree, Kelly. It’s been a while since you’ve seen the city. Dinner is on me.”
Macchiavello’s. I’d heard it was the new “it” restaurant in town. High-powered business suits and dresses dined there. So did numerous men who had numerous ranks in numerous connected families. Word on the street was that the steak was worth your first-born.
I lifted the card. “I’ll try the steak.”
“Excellent choice. They also make the best Old Fashioned in the city.”
I nodded. “Duly noted.” I lifted the card again. “I appreciate this.”
Rocco stood, fixing his suit as he did. I stood right after and held my hand out. We shook again, and it was as good as him leaning over the desk and kissing each of my cheeks. Then he gestured toward the door, inviting me to leave my office first.
Once we were outside and he was about to slide into the driver’s seat of his $500,000 car, I stopped him.
“Mac,” I said. “Any distinguishing marks I should know of?”
Rocco grinned at me, sliding his sunglasses over his eyes. “If I tell you, it will take the fun out if it.”
“I’m a boring man,” I said. “I’m allergic to fun. It sends me into anaphylactic shock.”
He laughed, his teeth bright white, as he got in the car and left.
“Cash,” Raff said, looking around. “Where the feck are we? Is this some kind of joke?”
“You know what’s a joke?” I slapped him on the back of his head. “Whenever you curse, you suddenly have an Irish accent.”
“That’s because I am Irish!”
“Part-time Irish. The rest of the time you’re a New Yorker with a New Yorker’s accent.”
“It’s not my fault my parents immigrated here before I was born. And it’s not my fault that the only time my Irish comes out is when I swear.”
He looked around again, nodding to a family dressed in old Scottish attire. “Haven’t these people got the fucking memo? Medieval is out. Twentieth century is in. We prefer modern-day medicine and boxed mac and cheese. Tell me they have beer. Or do we have to drink cider?”
“You drink too fucking much regardless of the name.”
He turned around, walking backwards, arms open. “And you accuse me of not being full-time Irish!” He wiggled his eyebrows at two females walking past him. “Tell ’im, ladies. There’s nothing wrong with a drink every once in a while.