The Shy Waitress Greeted the Mafia Boss’s Father in Perfect Sicilian—The Room Went Silent
The old man insulted me in a language nobody at his table understood.
I answered him before I remembered that men had disappeared for less.
Then his son stood up, the bodyguards reached beneath their jackets, and the most dangerous man in the restaurant told everyone to be silent.
At eight fifteen on Friday night, the pianist stopped playing with both hands suspended above the keys. Nora Rossi stood beside table twelve, holding a bottle of Pinot Noir over an unfinished glass. Across the dining room, men who had spent the evening interrupting their wives suddenly discovered the value of silence.
Salvatore Gallo entered leaning on a silver-handled cane. He was smaller than Nora expected, with narrow shoulders beneath an immaculate charcoal suit and a face the color of old paper. His bodyguards watched the room; he watched only the man rising from the corner booth.
“Papa,” Dante Gallo said.
Salvatore let the greeting wait.
Nora had worked at La Cattedrale for seven months. She knew Dante owned the restaurant, the neighboring buildings, and businesses nobody discussed near an open door. Until that moment, she had never seen him look uncertain.
Tonight, he looked like a son.
Near the kitchen, Paul caught Nora’s elbow. His managerial smile had vanished, leaving damp skin and a muscle jumping beside his mouth. Behind him, Carla shook her head and disappeared through the swinging doors.
“You’re taking table four.”
“No,” Nora said. “I have six tables.”
“I’ll move them.”
“Give it to Marco.”
“Marco’s in the kitchen.”
“Then give them the kitchen.”
Paul’s fingers tightened. Nora looked down at his hand until he released her.
“Permanent Friday nights,” he whispered. “And the private-room tip percentage.”
That made her hesitate.
Friday nights meant groceries without arithmetic. They meant another payment toward the loans she had taken during her grandfather’s final illness, when staying home to care for him had cost more than working could replace. She hated that Paul knew exactly where to press.