by Andrew Grey
Salvatore checked the rearview mirror and pulled back onto the turnpike. “Now that sounds like something we can work with.” He grinned. “And of course, you know his address.”
“Yeah.”
“So, when we’ve got the papers, we should send him a package, let him know the kinds of things you have. Let’s send him a message.” He gripped the wheel tighter. “We could try to tell him that the papers are in safe hands, but if anything at all happens to you, then copies will be sent to every major news outlet, as well as the district attorney at multiple levels. He isn’t going to be able to stop that sort of thing. Maybe then he’ll back off because it’s in his best interest.”
Elliott liked that idea, though it wasn’t enough as far as he was concerned. His stepfather should have to pay for what he’d done and the people he’d hurt. “But getting him to back off on me isn’t enough. It may have been just a couple days ago and maybe a few hours ago, but he’s hurting real people. I think I have papers on his bid to buy an apartment building in Pittsburgh. It’s a nice one on the edge of downtown, but a little older, and the tenants have leases at rates well below the current market. He wanted to buy the building and take it co-op so he could break the leases and put those people out on the street. Then he could sell the apartments and make a killing.”
“I see. That sounds perfectly legal to me. Granted, it’s a sucky thing to do….”
“He didn’t get the bid, and the building went to someone else. But he was planning some sort of toxic issue in the building, like asbestos. Then he would have to get everyone out and remediate an issue that didn’t exist. It would cost him nothing, and then he could sell the units. The bastard. All those people in the building would have their lives uprooted so Antonio Losquaro could make a few more dollars.” Elliott sighed. “That’s the kind of thing he does. And he doesn’t give a damn who he hurts.” He tried to remember what he’d copied, but he’d done it in such a hurry, he didn’t get a chance to read many of the pages. “You know, I’m tired of talking about him. It’s late Sunday morning and we’re on a road trip.” He smiled and was determined to let go of this crap, at least for now. “Have you ever brought someone home to meet your mom?”
“Nope,” Salvatore asked.
“I see.”
“I doubt it. I’ve moved around a lot, and I never met someone I wanted her to meet. The guys I dated, if you can call it that, weren’t the kind of guys that you take home to Mom.” Salvatore took Elliott’s hand once again.
“And I am?” Elliott asked.
“Honey, you’re a cute guy who I really like. My mom is going to love you. So you have nothing to worry about.” Salvatore squeezed lightly as they zoomed down the freeway.
The trees along the side of the road began to grow sparse and were replaced with high-rise buildings. Salvatore made the turnoff to the Schuylkill Expressway and they headed toward downtown. Traffic picked up almost immediately and then slowed on and off until they reached the downtown area, and then traffic grew nuts. Elliott sat quietly, letting Salvatore navigate the labyrinth of streets until he pulled to a stop in front of a quaint two-story home.
It wasn’t exactly imposing, but was well kept and inviting, with pots filled with flowers in front. Salvatore put the top up, locked the car, and led Elliott up the stairs. They had just reached the door when it opened and a small woman stepped out.
Elliott was shocked, and he turned to Salvatore. She was most definitely Salvatore’s mother. She had the same eyes and the same facial features, but she was about two feet shorter and much smaller. For a second Elliott wondered how she could have had a guy as huge as Salvatore.
“I take it you have someone to introduce,” she said with a wide smile.
“Mom, this is Elliott.”
She took his hand and shook it vigorously. “Call me Josie,” she said with so much energy. “How do you know my son? Are you dating, or is this one of those friendship things?”
“Mom, you don’t get to ask that sort of thing. Elliott and I haven’t named what’s going on yet. It’s new.” Salvatore hugged her, and Josie nearly disappeared in his arms.
“Well, how will I understand these things if you don’t tell me what’s going on?” She backed away and glared up at Salvatore. They hadn’t made it inside yet, and Elliott was already wondering what kind of visit this was going to be. He had a feeling that the Spanish Inquisition was going to have nothing at all on Josie. “Maybe if you came to visit more often, I’d know more about my son’s life.”
“And maybe if you weren’t the pushiest woman on the face of the earth, then I could.” Salvatore glared back, and Josie grinned after a few seconds.
“Okay. Come on inside, you two. I’ll try to be good. But don’t expect too much. I’m a mother, after all, and we worry.” She motioned inside, and Salvatore let him go first.
Elliott hadn’t quite known what to expect, but it certainly wasn’t what he walked into. The space was like walking back to the turn of the last century, with the restored woodwork, floors, and lighting that glowed from thick glass shades.
“Josie, this is stunning,” he said, snapping his jaws closed. “Salvatore said that you had done a lot of the work yourself. But he never explained how amazing it turned out.” He marveled at how warm and beautiful the home was.
“I’m glad you like it.” Josie led the way through the living and dining room, which were beautiful and inviting, with comfortable-looking furniture, to the kitchen, which was clearly the heart of this home. “I wasn’t sure what to make for lunch….” She lifted down some pans from the rack over the small island and set them on the stove.
“Mom, we came to visit you, not so you could cook for us. This is your day off,” Salvatore scolded.
“Though Salvatore has been telling me about your cooking,” Elliott said. He sat on one of the stools and looked at mother and son. There was clearly an interesting dynamic between the two of them. They loved each other, that was pretty clear, but there also seemed to be this back-and-forth, push-pull thing going on that Elliott couldn’t quite understand.
“Of course I have. Mom is the best.” Salvatore grinned and leaned on the island. “But you cook all the time….”
“But not for my wayward son,” she argued, and that seemed to tip things in her favor because Salvatore grew quiet, and she got to work. “I have some lovely veal loin, and I thought I could make piccata.” She pulled packages and bags from the refrigerator, laying the meat on a board, and got out a mallet to pound the poor cutlets into culinary submission. “I made some of my Caesar dressing.”
Salvatore hummed and started helping, tore lettuce, and got everything together. “Mom makes the best Caesar. It isn’t traditional, but it has so much flavor… and the garlic.” He grinned, and Elliott chuckled.
“I think I’ll just stay out of the way.” It was cool watching as the two of them worked together.
“Do you and your mom ever cook together?” Josie asked as she breaded the thin veal cutlets and put them into a hot pan.
“No. Mom hasn’t cooked very much in years. When she married my stepfather, things changed for her. We moved into a huge house with a staff of three. So someone cooked and someone else cleaned. There was someone to drive the cars. But I know now that he was also my stepfather’s body security.”
Josie stopped, midactivity. “What kind of family did you come from?”
Elliott sighed. “One where my stepfather needs people around him or he’d probably be dead. He isn’t a very good or a particularly nice man. My mom either thinks he’s the cat’s meow and won’t hear anything against him, or is complicit in his activities. We haven’t figured that part out yet.” At times it felt like the ground under Elliott’s feet had turned to quicksand.
“You sweetheart,” Josie said, wiping her hands and then patting his. “Children deserve to know where they stand with their parents.”
Elliott scoffed without meaning to. “Oh, I understand where things are with my st
epfather. He sent someone to bring me home, preferably alive.” Elliott didn’t want to be grumpy. “Did I mention that he’s an asshole?”
Josie turned to Salvatore. “And you’re helping Elliott?” She turned the veal as she talked.
“Mom….”
Josie wielded a set of tongs as a weapon, and for a second, Elliott thought she was going to hit Salvatore with them. “But you like him?”
“Yes. Of course I do. I brought Elliott to meet my crazy mother. Duh, I like him. Though I’m starting to think I should bring people I don’t like so you could scare them the hell away. And speaking of scaring people away—I hear you’re dating someone. Do I need to meet him and make sure he’s good enough for you?”
Josie returned to her cooking. “No, you do not. There will be no scaring of Killinger. He’s a really nice man and I like him. We’ve been dating and getting to know each other for two months, and we’re planning a culinary tour of the South in January. I’m thinking of closing the restaurant for two weeks, because January sucks for business, and taking some time off. He and I want to sample some good Cajun cooking and a little Southern hospitality.”
“Oh, that sounds so good,” Elliott said. “I went to New Orleans for a school trip when I was in college. The food was arranged, but Mom told me I had to eat at some local places, and they were the best. The food is simple, with out-of-this-world flavor.” Salvatore glared at him as he spoke. “What? I think it sounds like fun.”
Salvatore growled. “She’s going with some guy… one I haven’t met.”
Elliott rolled his eyes and patted Salvatore’s arm. “What are you? Don’t you think your mom knows what’s best for her?” Salvatore was acting a little caveman-ish, and Elliott wasn’t so sure he liked it.
“You can meet him eventually, but not until I know you aren’t going to scare him off. I like Killinger. He’s a few years older than me, and he lost his wife two years ago to cancer. He and I are taking it slow.”
“Does he have kids?”
“Two girls that I haven’t met yet. Killinger and I are still getting to know each other.” She seemed a little tentative, and Elliott thought that was probably an unusual situation.
“Okay,” Salvatore said. “I won’t press it. But I do want to meet him before you go off on a trip together.” He walked around to where his mother was cooking. “I need to know that he’s good enough for my mother.” He hugged her and then moved back.
Somehow that sentiment made her smile. “I think he might be the one.” She swallowed and set her attention to cooking.
Salvatore seemed taken aback, though in a good way. “I hope so. You’ve been alone for a while… too long.” He sat next to Elliott once more.
Elliott watched Josie, her movements efficient, not a single one unnecessary. Pasta went into a pot of water, and she went back to the rest of what smelled like the best lunch he’d had in years. Garlic, lemon, capers, a little olive oil, some oregano, all of it mixed, and what came out were three plates that looked as wonderful as they smelled.
“Do you want to eat here?”
“Sure. It’s why I designed this island. There’s nothing better than eating right where the food is prepared.” She took the third stool, sitting on Elliott’s right, with Salvatore on his left. “What do you do for a living?”
“I’m a server at the club,” Elliott said. “After I left home to get away from my stepfather, Bronco’s was the place that was willing to take a chance on me.” He took a bite of the veal and moaned softly. The tang of the lemon and creaminess of the butter and herbs was stunning, and he ate some more, suddenly very hungry. “This is amazing.”
Salvatore chuckled. “It’s my favorite. I always called it veal piccata mundi because eating it is a kind of religious experience.” He lightly bumped Elliott’s shoulder with his little joke. “Mom was always amazing in the kitchen.”
“Did you go to culinary school?” Elliott asked.
“No. I had a passion for food, and after Sally’s father died and then I lost my job, I started working in restaurants.” She scoffed lightly. “I was lucky—the first chef I worked for saw something in me. He encouraged me and taught me all he knew. After about six years, he announced that he was retiring and offered me the restaurant. While Sally was in school, I worked all kinds of hours to make the restaurant a success. I paid off the restaurant in four years, and now it’s mine. Sort of a home away from home.”
“Well, if the food you serve there is anything like this, I can see why.” Elliott took some of the salad, and it was stunning as well, bursting with flavor and perfectly balanced with tang, garlic, and a touch of creaminess.
“I use only fresh ingredients, and while I do my own take on a few classics, I serve good, flavorful Italian food.” She set down her fork. “In the summer, the fare is lighter, with more vegetables and lighter sauces. In winter, I cook heartier, with more meat and richer sauces that will stick to your ribs on a cold night.”
“Mom is amazing.” Salvatore finished his pasta and dug into a huge salad.
“Slow down! No one is going to take it from you,” Josie said.
“I don’t know about that. This is good enough that I may steal some from him,” Elliott teased, and Salvatore moved his plate away. Both he and Josie chuckled. Elliott already liked her. “What was he like as a kid?”
Josie put down her fork and rubbed her hands together.
“Mom.”
“What? I have been waiting for this for years.” She grinned, and Elliott glanced at Salvatore to see if he was really mad. The light in his eyes said he wasn’t, not really. “Actually, he was a great son. It was hard on him when he lost his dad. I think he floundered for a few years—we both did.” She reached behind him and patted Salvatore on the back. “I think I was most proud of him, and scared for him, when he told me he was going to join the service.” Her voice broke a little.
“I bet he was something in his uniform,” Elliott said.
“Oh, he was so handsome,” Josie said, and Elliott figured he would have used a very different word. The thought of Salvatore in his pressed uniform got his imagination running at full steam. “And he excelled. The flux and confusion of his teenage years was quickly replaced by the confidence and self-assuredness of a man.” She grew quiet, and then she turned to Elliott with a twinkle in her eyes. “He used to love watermelon.”
“Now come the embarrassing parts?” Elliott asked, and Josie nodded.
“I have a picture of him somewhere eating a slice of watermelon with a diaper halfway to his knees.” She chuckled. “I could never get him to stop eating.”
“Was his dad big?”
Josie shook her head. “His grandfather. My mom was small like me, but my dad was a big man, and so was his grandfather on his dad’s side.”
“I was as tall as Mom by the fourth grade.” Salvatore finished eating and started taking care of the dishes. “And after Dad died, I was the man of the house. It was my job to help take care of Mom.” He seemed happy here. “Though it’s not very nice of her to start telling diaper stories.”
“I’m sure if you meet my mother, you’ll get diaper stories, and ‘things kids say’ stories, and gosh knows what else.” Elliott wasn’t sure that was ever going to happen. The last few weeks had completely upended his view of the people he thought of as his family. And now he wasn’t sure of very much at all. Was his mother involved with his stepfather’s business? It was so easy to think of his mom as innocent and kept in the dark. But she fed him information at the very least. At worst, she was his partner and helped cover up for him. Heck, it was even possible that she knew what his stepfather was doing to try to silence him. Elliott closed his eyes, wishing he had a relationship like Salvatore and Josie had. It was clear they loved each other and even enjoyed each other’s company. It had been a long time since he could say that.
“Elliott, honey,” Josie said, snapping his attention out of his thoughts. “Are you okay?”
“I’m s
orry. Yes.” He blinked and forced his mind to the present rather than going over the same things again and again. It was useless and a waste of effort. “Lunch was one of the best I’ve ever had. Thank you.” He took a deep breath and turned to Salvatore, who had cleared the dishes and sat back next to him.
“Would anyone like some coffee?”
“I would,” Elliott said.
Josie got up to put some on. She didn’t seem to sit still for very long, and while the coffee brewed, she wiped the counters and stove. “What sort of plans did you have while you’re here?”
“Well…. Maybe we can go for a walk. It isn’t too hot. There are plenty of things to see in the area,” Salvatore said as Josie poured mugs and passed them out, along with cream and sugar. Elliott added a little of both to his coffee and sipped slowly. “Do you want to come, Mom?”
“No, thanks. I’m going to spend a few hours with my feet up and watch some television. It’s Sunday afternoon and my one full day off. The two of you go on and have fun.” She took her coffee to the other room, and Salvatore finished his much more quickly than Elliott did.
“I like it here. Your mom is wonderful,” he said softly. She had made him feel welcome within a few minutes. Elliott leaned against Salvatore with a contented sigh and closed his eyes. Salvatore put an arm around his shoulders, and they sat there quietly with Elliott sipping his coffee.
“Mom is great.”
Elliott followed Salvatore’s gaze, and Elliott snickered. “You want to know more about this guy she’s seeing. I can tell.” He smiled. “Don’t you trust your mom and that she’ll know what’s best for her?”
Tension instantly rose in Salvatore’s body. “It’s this guy that I don’t trust.”