And I know just the thing.
First, I hit Cortese’s Delicatessen. It’s a small shop downtown, the kind of place that’s been around as long as anyone can remember, and whose owner – Sammy Cortese — has served up some of the best food in town since the day he first hung his sign above the door.
The deli is empty when I arrive. It’s that time between lunch and dinner when most regular people are slaving away at their desk jobs and counting down until they can clock out.
Sammy raises one white eyebrow as I push open the door to his shop, the golden bell tied to the front door chiming my arrival.
“Jesus, kid, does your mom know you’re here? Get the fuck out with that outfit.”
“Long time no see, Sammy. You’re still as lovable as I remember.”
He squints. Adjusts his glasses on his enormous nose. “Declan? Declan Dunne? What the fuck are you doing showing up here, dressed like that?”
“I’m here to buy some fucking food, what do you think? That I’m here for your sweet company?”
“Surprised you’re out at all, what with the cops looking for you,” he huffs. “Kid like you, still hasn’t learned how to keep himself out of trouble.”
“That stuff with the bank is just bullshit. There’s more to it than the cops are saying. If I’d really intended to rob that place, I would have, and I’d be in Tijuana by now, rolling in cash with a bunch of strippers. Instead, I’m here, looking to buy some capocollo and some cheese. Does that really strike you as the actions of a guilty man?”
He shrugs. “You got a point. But I’m just telling you to keep your fucking head down. Cops come in here all the time, and they talk; you’re their number one subject of conversation.”
“I would be. I’ll bet it’s been a long fucking time since they’ve had someone like me to deal with.”
Sammy snorts. “Declan, I got all the bologna I need in my display counter. Shut your mouth. Are you going to order something or not?”
I step up to his counter, put my hands on the glass and peer inside. The thing is stuffed to overflowing with all kinds of meats and cheeses, some I recognize, and some I don’t; there are meats that Sammy cures right here in his deli — salamis and prosciuttos and mortadellas — and then there are hams from Parma in Italy and Córdoba in Spain and other places that I haven’t even heard of.
“I will. And I could use your advice. I’m putting together a picnic for someone who’s important to me. She’s had a rough day, she’s a smart woman, probably prefers the finer, snootier things, and I want to do something nice for her.”
“You trying to get laid, Declan?”
I shrug. “If it happens, I won’t object. She’s got legs that make me dizzy and her lips taste so fucking sweet. But, mostly, I just want to see her smile.”
“Hold on, Declan. You in love with her or something?”
“I can’t answer that, Sammy. But I can say that I respect her.”
He whistles. Pauses for a second, hand on his chin, as he looks over the deli counter. “You respect her? You? That’s pretty fucking serious, kid.”
“Well, things are fucking serious right now, Sammy. You going to help me put together a picnic basket, or what?”
“Yeah, I’ll help you, Declan. Let’s fill your picnic basket up.”
Chapter Seventeen
Tiffany
Still shaking with an overdose of adrenaline and indignant fury, I slide out of the back seat of the Uber and extend a hand to help Eleanor out of her seat. I haven’t felt like this since the first time I stepped up to the starting line for Stanford’s track team — on the verge of something new and terrifying, where the world seems so much larger, so much scarier, and no matter how much I’ve practiced or trained, I feel totally unprepared. All our options are disappearing, except for the illegal kind. And soon, the starting gun will go off and I will have to plunge into the scary unknown.
“Are you all right?” Eleanor’s voice shakes me to my senses.
I open the front door and hold it open for her.
“I’m fine. I’m sorry you had to see that mess back there.”
“That David is a dick, isn’t he? Why the hell were you ever engaged to such a petty little man?”
“Because he was smart and near the top of his class, and I had this idea that we would be this power couple, complementing each other’s careers, driving each other to be more successful, and that we’d take over the world.”
“Whatever threw that fantasy off track?”
“I got hurt. And, though David was great as a partner in pushing me to be better at my studies and career aspirations, he was just the opposite emotionally. All brains, no heart. Except, apparently, when it comes to getting angry.”
“Well, you’ve gone from associating from one end of the spectrum to the other; my Declan is all heart and no brains.”
I turn on her. Take a step closer and glare. “You need to ease off of him. It’s because he has a heart that he’s here, despite everything he’s going through, just to take care of you. He loves you. Be good to him.”
We’re hardly through the door when Eleanor’s Volvo pulls into the driveway and Blaze steps out.
