“She’s had some struggles, James. Nico got Alzheimer’s and died.”
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t even ask about Nico.”
“It’s okay,” I said and meant it. “I lost him many years ago when he got Alzheimer’s. I’m just grateful I had as much time with him as I did.”
“You two were a formidable couple,” James said.
And that right there is why James and I will be able to be friends forever.
It seemed to lighten up Madame Butterfly as well.
“I’m so sorry for your loss,” she said, tossing her perfect and silky head of hair.
I just looked at her. Whatever.
I turned back toward James and handed him his phone.
“I’ve added you on Snap,” I said. “Check your schedule for the next few days and let me know when we can get together.
“I’m working, so I’ll have to check my shifts, but I’ll get back to you asap.”
“SFPD still?”
“He’s a commander,” Miss Van Cleef said.
We both ignored her.
Every time she spoke, a flicker of annoyance surged over me. Could I have a goddamn conversation with my old friend without her chiming in.
“Anytime, James. I’m available for breakfast, lunch, or dinner.”
The only reason I didn’t add “dessert” was because Dante would have kicked me in the shins.
Ten
After the elevator whooshed shut with James and Madame Butterfly inside, Dante turned to me.
“She’s a piece of work.”
“I can’t believe James would fall for that phony shit,” I said.
“Gia, you’re not jealous, are you?”
I made a face. “Hardly. She’s a cream puff. All fluffy and sweet with no substance.”
“Huh,” Dante said. He crossed his arms and smirked at me.
“Stop. Show me around already.”
The swinging doors to the kitchen opened up to a short flight of stairs. The kitchen was actually on the floor below, which was how the restaurant had its 360-degree views. Impressive. The other door led straight up to the roof where guests could “take in the night air” as Dante said like a freaking character out of a Jane Austen novel.
“There’s another stairway from the kitchen to a portion of the rooftop that’s blocked off,” Dante said. “It’s got air conditioning units and so on, but it’s actually a better view than the public view.”
“Nice.”
“Yeah. It’s where I go to think sometimes.”
“How long have you been thinking of buying this place?”
“Years.”
“And it just now came up for sale?”
“Yes.”
“This is great. I can’t wait to go into business with you again, Dante. We make a damn good team.”
He checked his watch. “I’m flying to San Diego to spend the weekend with Wayne. Want to come?”
“I think I better stick around,” I said, airily. “After all, I just got home. I have a lot of unpacking and catching up to do.”
Dante smirked. “Sure. I heard what you said to James.”
“Sorry. Not sorry. We never could resist each other,” I said. “I haven’t gotten laid for a while. I’m horny. So sue me.”
“You’re such a dude, Gia,” Dante said.
“That’s not what James would say.”
Dante just rolled his eyes.
We stepped into the elevator. I pushed the button for the lobby.
“I’ll walk you out,” I said.
Downstairs, when the valet brought Dante’s rental car, I grabbed him by the chin and kissed him on the lips.
“I love you, paesano. Give Wayne a kiss for me too.”
He hugged me tightly and then whispered in my ear. “I’m so glad you’re back home.”
“Me too.”
I stood and watched his car drive away.
I was about to turn when I felt someone at my side.
“He’s pretty amazing, isn’t he?”
In surprise, I turned to see the mayor. Was the mayor gay? I was about to tell him that Dante was happily married when I saw the way he was looking at me.
“It’s great to have you on board,” he said. “We could use fresh blood on the committee.”
“Is that what I am?” I said lightly.
He cocked his head. “I can’t believe we didn’t run into each other when you used to live here.”
Unless he liked getting shit-faced at my favorite bar—Anarchy—I doubted we would’ve crossed paths. But I didn’t say that. Instead, I said, “With all due respect, mayor, I don’t think we ran in the same circles.”
“I spent a lot of time in North Beach during those years. Dante said you did, as well. I also lived in the Tenderloin a few years back.”
“Oh,” I frowned.
“That surprises you?”
I shrugged. “Yeah. You just don’t look like the type to go slumming in the T.L.”
“L’Abito Non Fa il Monaco.” It translated to “Don’t judge a book by its cover” or “Clothes don’t make the man.”
“So, you’re Italian?” I asked.
“Half.”
“Nice.”
“Nice?” His voice was teasing.
I took another look at him. So his skin wasn’t just tanned from trips to Florida every year. Come to think of it, his last name was Italian—Ferraro.
He cleared his throat. “I’m sure North Beach has changed a little since you were last here, but one of my favorite restaurants is still open. Rossetti’s Cucina.”
“Yeah, that’s a good one.”
I was getting eager to leave. This small talk was killing me. I wanted to go upstairs and change out of my white suit and into soft jeans and a worn T-shirt.
“I have a reservation for dinner tonight, but my colleague’s flight was delayed,” he said and paused. Shit. He was asking me out. I stared wide-eyed like a deer in the headlights.
“I’d hate to let the reservation go to waste. It usually takes a few weeks to get in.
“Oh.”
“I’m asking you to dinner,” he said with a smile.
“Oh. Oh!” I said. “Um, sure.” My response was lame.
But his smile remained.
“Pick you up at seven? Here?”
“All right,” I said and turned to leave.
On the elevator ride up to my room, I was kicking myself. Fuck. I was out of shape at turning down dates. He was hot and all.
I mean, I probably wouldn’t kick him out of bed, but I’d rather have James. James and I had a rhythm down. No bullshit. No awkward moments. It was pure animal lust. I didn’t need to have some new guy in my life who
