Riding The Edge

by Janine Infante Bosco

  Tearing my eyes away from the putz three lanes over, I look at my two youngest sons.

  “Yeah, Dad, you’re starting to freak us out,” Frankie adds as he stops entering our names into the machine.

  “Can’t a father just hang out with his sons?” I argue, rising from my chair. Moving to the rack of bowling balls, I pretend to be occupied with picking the right ball but, my attention is aimed at Maria’s pal, Lenny. Apparently, the balding bastard is a regular here and real tight with all the ladies. He’s had a flock of them surrounding him since me and the boys walked in here. I don’t know if I’m relieved Maria is nowhere in sight or if I’m pissed that I drove here to watch the Mack Daddy of Rab’s get his freak on.

  “I thought we were going to visit Nico,” Enzo says.

  “Change in plans,” I mumble, grabbing a ball.

  With Alvarez scheduled to pay Nico a visit, I decided to steer clear of the hospital. Pipe was going to be floating around, making sure our new friend was a man of his word and once Alvarez severed ties with Nico and he had some time to cool down, I’d drop in. I also needed to figure out what I was going to say to him. Just because I got Alvarez to release him of his prospecting duties, didn’t mean Nico’s desire to join a club would just disappear. The kid was on a mission to be a fucking biker and if I know my son, he won’t stop until he gets what he wants. The next club he tries to join may not be fearful of the Satan’s Knights and use him to bait us. At least if he’s a Knight, I have some sort of control over keeping him safe.

  “Come on, Dad,” Frankie complains. “You didn’t take us bowling when we were kids. Now, we’re adults and you’re ready to buy us happy meals.”

  Lifting my head, I look between the two of them.

  “Was I really that much of a shit dad?”

  “That’s not what I meant,” Frankie says.

  “Yeah, well your brother has a different opinion,” I tell him. “And you’re not quite an adult yet, buddy.”

  “Maria Bianci!” Enzo exclaims, causing my eyes to sweep the place in search of her.

  “What about her?” Frankie questions.

  “That’s why we’re here, isn’t it?” Enzo asks me. “You wanted to see her.”

  “Wait,” Frankie says, holding up a hand. “You’ve got a thing for Mrs. Bianci?”

  “Jesus Christ,” I mutter. Not ready to look them in the eye and lie, I focus on throwing the ball down the lane. Knocking down three pins, I turn back to them and snarl. “We’re here to bowl.”

  “Then, I should point out, you’re a horrible bowler,” Enzo says, eying my frame. Lifting three fingers, he shakes his head and smirks. “You’re also a shitty liar, pop.”

  “I didn’t know it was a crime to spend time with your kids,” I retort.

  Grabbing the ball, I send it down the lane with a little more aggression and manage to drop another three pins.

  “It’s only a crime when you make us do something we all suck at,” Enzo replies.

  “Speak for yourself,” I say. “I’m getting the hang of this shit.”

  “Didn’t you used to be on a league?”

  “Yeah, when Nico was a baby,” I reply, dropping into the seat next to Frankie. “Who goes?”

  “I do,” Frankie replies. Instead of taking his turn he crosses his arms and eyes me curiously. “You’re really not going to tell us, are you?”

  “There is nothing to tell,” I argue. “Me and Maria are friends.”

  “Friends that sometimes fuck?” Enzo presses, wiggling his eyebrows. “I got a few of those.”

  Jesus Christ.

  “I bet you do,” I grunt. “Just make sure you’re safe,” I add as I rack my brain trying to remember if I gave him the conversation about the birds and the bees. Knowing me, I probably left that task to his mother. Realizing Frankie is silent beside me, I turn to my youngest.

  “What about you?” I ask.

  “Frankie’s holding out for the right girl,” Enzo supplies, rolling his eyes. “Until then, it’s him and his hand.”

  “Shut the fuck up,” Frankie growls.

  “There ain’t nothin’ wrong with that,” I say.

  At his age, I was already doing time in juvie and had an impressive number of notches under my belt. If someone offered me a million dollars, I wouldn’t be able to name any of them. Hell, I wouldn’t be able to tell you if they were blonde or brunette. So, what he didn’t start young, it doesn’t make it wrong. If anything, maybe he’ll break the cycle and be the first Scotto lucky in love.

  God, I sound like a fucking pussy.

  Throwing an arm around his shoulders, I force Frankie’s attention away from his brother.

  “I’ve got a girlfriend,” he admits. “Her name is Carina, and she’s a sophomore. She isn’t ready to have sex and I’m okay with waiting because unlike this idiot,” he says, jutting a finger to his brother. “I know a good girl is hard to find.”

  “They’re hard to keep too,” I tell him, drawing out a sigh.

  “That’s why I don’t keep anyone. Who the fuck needs that kind of headache?” Enzo says. “No fucking thank you.”

  Looks like we’re making a pit stop after this. Fuck the happy meals, everyone’s getting condoms.

  Frankie starts schooling Enzo on the importance of monogamy and I spot Lenny stepping away from the crowd. Watching him closely, I excuse myself from my feuding sons and follow the scumbag into the bathroom. Expecting to find him with his junk in his hand, I’m surprised to see him leaning against the sink with his arms crossed against his chest.

  “I figured you were here for me,” Lenny says, cocking his head to the side. “Is this easy enough for you?”

  Narrowing my eyes, I step closer.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Come on,” he urges. “I won’t even hit back.”

  “I’m not lookin’ to hit you,” I tell him. As appealing as the thought is, smacking this putz around won’t get Maria her money back. “What’s the deal with you and Maria?” I ask instead.

  “We’re friends,” he says simply. “Look, we used to see each other a while back but like everything in my life, I fucked that up. If you’re going to ask me to stay away from her, that won’t happen. She’s a good person and I don’t got too many of those in my life.”

  How can I argue with him when everything he’s saying I can relate to? I didn’t like his answer, but he deserved respect for keeping it real.

  “You owe her money,” I state.

  “That’s between me and her,” he replies.

  “Not anymore it’s not,” I say with a shake of my head.

  “I don’t know what she’s told you or what you think that money was for but, Maria knows I don’t have the money to pay her back right now. As soon as I do, I will make sure she’s paid in full.”

  “Fair enough,” I say.

  “Is this why she called out tonight? So, you can shake me down in the bathroom like her son did earlier?”

  “Maria called out sick?” I question, ignoring the bit about Anthony.

  “Conveniently,” he mutters. “Then, just before the start of what would’ve been her shift, her son shows up, throwing around his weight and making threats,” he says with a shake of his head. “Now, here you are… the new guy.”

  He continues to ramble on as I reach into my pocket and pull out my phone. Bringing up Maria’s number, I hit send and look at Lenny.

  “You speak to her today?” I question, cutting him off in the middle of his tirade.

  “Oh, what are you going to tell me I can’t talk to her too?”

  “Answer the fucking question.”

  “No, I called, but she didn’t answer.”

  The call goes to voicemail and I disconnect it before shoving it back into my pocket.

  “We never had this conversation,” I warn, pointing a finger to him. “You get the money, you pay her. Until then, I don’t want your hands on her and I don’t care how innocent your intentions may be, I don’t want you
making passes at her.”

  “A little early to be staking a claim,” he retorts. “Word of advice, if you’re looking to be a hero, you’re wasting your time.”

  “I didn’t ask for your advice,” I growl.

  “I’m feeling generous,” he says, pausing for a beat. “If want to keep her, don’t try to take care of her. She’ll only run.”

  I knew there was truth to his words, but I didn’t want to hear it. Leaving him in the bathroom, I made my way back to my boys.

  “Family time is over,” I announce.

  “Thank Christ,” Enzo mutters, dropping the bowling ball. “This was weird.”

  Ignoring him, I hand Frankie my phone.

  “You know how to text?” I question.

  “Of course I do,” he says, glancing at the contact on the screen. Lifting his head, he raises an eyebrow and laughs. “You want me to text your girlfriend?”

  “You’re grounded.”

  “I’m seventeen.”

  “What’s your point?”

  “You’ve never grounded me before.”

  “Yeah, well, it’s never too late to teach an old dog new tricks,” I mutter, tipping my chin. “Text her.”

  “What do want to me to say?”

  “Tell her if she doesn’t answer the fucking phone, I’m going there and if she doesn’t open the door, I’ll tear it the fuck off the hinges.”

  “Yeah, you sure that’s what you want me to text her?”

  “Listen to Casanova,” Enzo quips. “He’s a bona fide expert in love.”

  The two brothers continue to bicker as my eyes dart towards the restrooms. Lenny emerges and as our eyes meet, his words ring in my head. A second later he tips his chin and walks away. Turning to my kids, I run my fingers through my hair.

  “Enough,” I bark, pointing a finger at Frankie. “Just ask her if she’s okay.”

  “Lame,” Enzo comments as Frankie composes the message.

  “Done,” he says, handing me back my phone. “You really like her, don’t you?”

  If that’s not a loaded question, I don’t know what it is.

  “Yeah,” I mutter. “I do.”

  I like her a fuck of a lot.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  “There’s enough food here to feed a village,” my daughter-in-law, Adrianna, says as she pulls a tray of eggplant parmigiana from the oven. She’s not exaggerating. I’ve been cooking like it’s a holiday since early this morning.

  After I woke up and noticed a bunch of missed calls, none of which were from Dr. Kennedy’s office, I decided to call the kids and ask them to come for dinner. I needed a dose of reality because my behavior yesterday was unacceptable. Technically, I wasn’t diagnosed with anything and here I was making my funeral arrangements. I’ve never played the wounded warrior and I’m not about to start now.

  If the call came, and it was cancer, then it was cancer.

  No more feeling sorry for myself.

  And no more day-drinking on a Saturday.

  Not only did I polish off two bottles of wine, but I also broke some of my favorite stemware.

  I’d fight and win because I don’t know how to lose.

  With my newfound confidence in place, I cleaned the house and started dinner. Once I had the sauce up, I started returning calls. I began with Anthony and then Lauren. By the time I was finished it was time for me to slice and bread the eggplant. At least that’s the excuse I told myself when I scrolled through the calls and stumbled upon the seven missed calls I had from Al. He had even text messaged me.

  It’s not that I didn’t want to speak to him—in fact, it was quite the opposite. I was starting to realize I could fall hard for Al, harder than I’ve fallen for any other man, including my husband. It wouldn’t take long or much effort, just a few more quiet nights together and I’d be a goner. Whether he feels the same or not, the man deserves to know where I stand and why I’ve been so distant since he left my house Friday night. Once the kids leave, I’ll return his call and explain our timing is just off.

  “Ma, where’d you put the Italian bread?” Anthony asks, popping his head into the kitchen.

  “It’s already on the table,” I reply. Laying a hand on Adrianna’s shoulder, I tell her to go into the dining room with her husband. I grab the pasta bowl and start for the dining room when the doorbell rings.

  “I’ll get it,” Lauren offers as she stands, rocking the baby in her arms. “Riggs, make the boys plates.”

  “Make them plates? I can’t even get them to sit at the table,” he mutters as he chases Eric around the table. “Eric, don’t make me look like an idiot in front of your uncle.”

  “Blame the kid,” Anthony retorts, taking his seat at the head of my table.

  “Eric, come sit with grandma,” I call desperately. The last thing I need is for him or his father to run into my china cabinet. I’m already down two glasses.

  “Don’t worry,” Riggs says. “I got this. You just worry about piling that spaghetti on my plate.”

  “Grandma, can I have a meatball?” Luca asks.

  “Me too!” Victoria chimes in.

  Diverting my eyes away from the impending disaster their little cousin is about to cause, I smile at my two oldest grandchildren and load their plates. I’m just about to sit when Lauren enters the dining room and clears her throat.

  “Look who it is,” Lauren announces. The first thing I notice is that she is no longer holding the baby and when she steps aside my eyes lock with the man who is.

  “Uncle Wolf?” Eric shrieks from behind the china cabinet.

  “Hey, buddy,” Al says, adjusting the baby in his arms to catch Eric as he runs straight for him.

  “Well, this is a surprise,” Adrianna says, rising to her feet. “Come sit, I’ll grab another chair from the kitchen.”

  “No, I don’t want to intrude on your dinner,” he says, meeting my gaze. “I didn’t realize you’d have a full house. I wanted to bring you your scarf,” he says.

  “Her scarf?” Anthony questions.

  “It’s a long story,” Al replies, tearing his eyes away from me. Glancing down at Eric, he tousles his hair. “Go sit next to your dad and eat dinner.”

  “Can you stay? Grandma makes the best meatballs.”

  “There’s plenty of food,” I add, watching as his gaze returns to me. “Stay for dinner.”

  “Yay!” Eric calls. “Come sit next to me, Uncle Wolf.”

  “Here,” I say, wiping my hands on the back of my pants. “Let me take the baby.”

  “I’ve got him, Lady,” he rasps, tipping his chin towards the table. “Go eat.”

  Feeling the heavy weight of everyone’s stare, I decide not to make a scene. I force a smile and turn around, finding my seat. Nervously, I scoop the pasta into my dish as Eric leads Al to the table. Eric slides into the seat next to me and Al, pulls out the chair at the head of the table, opposite Anthony.

  “How’s Nico?” Riggs asks, breaking the silence.

  “He’s good. They moved him out of intensive care,” Al reveals, smiling down at the baby. “You’re a handsome fella’ aren’t you? Must get your looks from your mother.”

  “Very funny,” Riggs retorts with his mouthful.

  “Uncle Wolf do you have your motorcycle with you?” Eric asks.

  Lifting his eyes, he smiles at my grandson.

  “I do,”

  “What’s so great about his motorcycle?” Anthony asks.

  “It’s a chopper,” Eric boasts.

  Shoving a forkful of pasta into my mouth, I reach for the empty dish in front of Al. I add a healthy heaping of pasta and two meatballs before placing it back in front of him.

  “I told you, I’m good, Lady.” His voice is barely a whisper causing goosebumps to spread across my skin.

  “C’mon, Wolf, it’s in her nature. You can’t expect to sit at her table and her not feed you,” Lauren says.

  “Uncle Anthony doesn’t know what that is,” Riggs says, answering Eric�
��s question. “If it’s not a Cadillac or a Lincoln, Uncle Anthony isn’t a fan.”

  “Of course, I know what a chopper is,” Anthony argues.

  Ignoring him, Riggs turns to Al.

  “Speaking of cars, did you ever get in touch with the guy from the dealership?”

  “Yeah, I’ve decided to keep the car,” he reveals. Balancing the baby with one arm, he reaches for his fork and cuts a piece of the meatball off. Bringing it to his lips, his eyes meet mine as he takes a bite.

  “Here, let me take him,” Lauren says, holding out her hands. This time he doesn’t argue with her and she takes the baby out of his arms with ease.

  “You bought a car?” Anthony asks, sounding surprised. “Isn’t that sacrilegious for you people?”

  “Not just any car,” Riggs starts. “The guy went and bought himself a—”

  “The meatballs are great,” Al interrupts.

  “Oh my God,” I shriek. Remembering the morning Anthony showed up, and the car parked in front of the house, I push my chair back. “Do you smell something burning?”

  “I thought we took everything out of the oven,” Adrianna says.

  “I smell it,” Al says.

  “I don’t smell anything,” Lauren says.

  “Me either,” Anthony agrees. “You’ve been acting weird ever since the other morning.”

  “What happened the other morning?” Lauren asks.

  “I stopped by early on Friday and there was a brand new Charger blocking the driveway. It took mom twenty minutes to answer the door.”

  “It did not,” I argue, standing up. “I’m going to check and see if I shut the oven off,” I say, walking backward into the kitchen.

  Once out of sight, I grab the bottle of wine from the fridge—so much for no more day drinking. Swinging my head back, I take a swig from the bottle and nearly choke when I feel two strong hands grip my hips from behind.

  “Nice save,” he rasps against my ear. Reaching around me, he pulls the bottle away from my hand and sets it on the counter in front of me. “Look at me, Lady,” he says, releasing his other hand from my hip.

  Drawing in a breath, I turn around and lean against the counter. Lifting my chin, our eyes lock and for a brief pause, everything else fades. I get lost in the intensity of his stare and I forget all the reasons I’ve been avoiding him.