“Because if they don’t, you’ll kill them?”
He stares at me in the passenger seat. “Do you seriously think so little of me, that I would kill someone over a few hundred dollars?”
“I thought that’s what the mob does.”
“The businesses pay up to keep themselves safe. It’s money for protection. It’s sort of like insurance. When everyone who lives around here knows they’re protected by Creed, by the Ferraro family, then they think twice before they fuck with the businesses. At least most of the time. Sometimes there are a few idiots who press their luck,” he explains. “Now, are you coming inside, or do you want to wait in the truck?”
“I’ll come in,” I decide, even if I’m dressed down without makeup or my hair fixed perfectly. With the mobster, those things don’t seem to matter. In fact, I think he prefers when I’m a little messy. The way he stared at my pants before we left hisapartment makes me think he likes the tight fit on my ass more than my stuffy suits.
I follow Tristan into a cute, old-fashioned ice cream shop of all places, complete with checkered floors and red decor. It’s gelato actually, which I should’ve guessed. The front window glass is broken, shards scattered everywhere. A pretty man with shoulder-length dark curls holds a broom inside, sweeping up. His hands are shaking as he works, and his shoulders are hunched. He looks upset before he even glances up and sees the mobster headed his way. His eyes widen and then… he lets out a sigh of relief.
“Mr. Ferraro,” he says in greeting. “Thank you for coming so soon.”
“Do you have security footage of the asshole who did this?” Tristan asks.
The young man nods.
“Text it to me. How much did he take?”
“Almost four-grand,” the guy says. “My parents are going to fucking kill me when they find out I didn’t make the bank deposit last night.”
“They won’t find out. I’m going to go get your money back right now,” Tristan promises, which seems a bit too cocky. “You know the guy who did it?”
The man nods. “We went to high school together. My friend, Kelly, she works here part time and is dating him. His name is Reggie. Reggie Reynolds.”
“How did this Reggie know about the cash you had on hand? The girl told him?”
He nods again and swallows loud enough for us to hear. “I may have mentioned needing to make a bank run last night. Please, don’t hurt her, just him!”
“You got a thing for this girl or something?” Tristan asks, and the guy’s nose wrinkles in disgust.
“God, no. I’m gay.”
“Oh. Right. Well, this girl is trouble. She’s going to have to be punished in some way too.”
“Fine. Just don’t hit her.”
Tristan scrubs his palm down his face. “Why does everyone think I’m a monster who hurts girls and kills over a few bucks?”
The young guy looks from Tristan to me and then lowers his eyes to the mess on the floor.
Shaking his head, Tristan says, “I’ve got some guys coming to replace the glass. The shop should be all sealed up by tonight when you close.”
“It’s not like anyone wants ice cream in the winter. And I doubt any other…customers will be willing to literally crawl over broken glass to get what they’re looking for.”
“Right, well, I’m sorry this happened to you, kid. I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again.”
“Thanks, Mr. Ferraro.”
“Keep your head up, Emanuele.”
When Tristan and I are back in his cranked truck, getting warm while he types on his phone, I ask him, “What else does the adorable ice cream shop sell?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He grins without glancing up from his phone. “The Pescis only sell happiness in a cup.”
“Happiness in a cup? You mean drugs?”
“Why? Are you going to have them arrested?”
