Page 8

KEEP HER

SANTINO

A couple days had passed since Santino heard the disturbing news about Scott Malone. He was there for Vanessa’s routine in the morning. Same stop to smell the flowers, same hesitation to go inside her office, this time stretching another minute. She’d gone inside eventually, and he’d come to work.

Even though they’d moved to Westchester, Santino hadn’t wanted to switch to their fire department even though he knew and liked the crew that worked there.

Anne’s Harbor was still home to him because of Nona Greta.

In fact, he’d taken over Greta’s apartment so he could still have a city address to comply with city rules.

Never mind if he was slightly bending them.

At the station house, Santino mumbled hello to everybody and went to the top floor where the bunk room was to stretch out for a moment of quiet.

The others joked that the words “Santino” and “quiet” had never been used in the same sentence, but a lot had changed in the past three years.

First was the leave of absence until he could function like a fucking human being again.

Then there was that period when he’d come back to work, finally, but had brought with him a new recklessness on calls.

He’d gotten through that phase, but everyone else still remembered.

Now he had to work twice as hard to prove he was steady, reliable. That he had his shit together. But when he was in one of these moods, they steered clear until it improved.

The day was slow, if you counted a restaurant kitchen fire as “slow.” Only one person was hurt from smoke inhalation.

They considered it a win that it wasn’t worse.

They ran some drills when they returned to show a rookie how he should have handled a situation.

Then it was Santino’s turn to do stove duty around five o’clock.

“Alright, I’ll get started.” Shaking off the last of his funky attitude, Santino went to start cooking.

The meal he made wasn’t especially hard to make.

It was a simple vat of spaghetti and some raw meatballs he’d stored in the fridge that morning, made from Nonna Greta’s recipe.

Admittedly, she hadn’t been as good a cook as their nonna in Italy, but she and her food had been his favorite.

Santino knew he’d been her favorite, too.

He sometimes wondered if she’d be proud of him.

At least the act of cooking made him feel better than he had when he first came in.

When the sauce was simmering in the pot, he rinsed off the fruit and salad and put them on the long wooden table in two big bowls.

“You and this fucking health kick you’re on,” Mitch moaned when he passed by to peer at the grapes. “I miss the donuts. Can’t you ease down and get us some fucking donuts?”

“I’m getting old. I need to stay in peak shape,” Santino said, running his hands down his flat stomach. Never mind the sandwich he’d had earlier.

“Old? Fuck outta here. You won’t even be thirty for another two years,” Garret chimed in from the kitchen table, his light-brown face creased with mock disgust. He was older than Santino and Mitch by a good twenty years. “Talk to me when your hair starts fuckin’ falling out.”

“Aw, but you look great with that bald spot. Ladies love that shit. Shows real maturity,” Santino said with a grin.

“Fuck you,” Garret replied.

“I know you wish you could, but sorry, you’re not my type,” Santino responded.

“Hey,” Angelo said as he strolled in, rubbing his own shaved head and winking, “I have it on good authority from my wife that ladies’ do love this shit.”

“Bro,” Mitch said, coming over and leaning against the counter while Santino was frying the meatballs. “I found a new thing ladies love.”

“Hmm. What?” He wasn’t asking because he cared about Mitch’s sex life, especially considering he himself didn’t have one. He knew Mitch wouldn’t leave him alone unless he got his bragging off his chest.

“Well,” Mitch said, checking to make sure no one else could hear them, especially not the women.

That could create an uncomfortable environment, and that could mean trouble.

Santino only wished that was enough to keep Mitch from blabbing.

“This girl I’ve been seeing… she’s got this thing for temperatures. In bed.”

His buddy proceeded to tell him exactly what they’d done. By the time the meatballs were finished, Santino was intrigued but just as easily dismissed it. He had no idea when or if he’d ever fuck anyone again period.

After he was done prepping the food, he rejoined the others at the table where they traded insults for the next half hour as they ate. They complained about his food but nevertheless they inhaled it like a pack of fucking wolves. While two of the rookies were washing up, Santino stretched.

“Alright. I’m gonna go study.”

“No, you’re not. You’re gonna play with us. We’re ready to take the money you made off us last week,” Mitch said. He pulled out a deck of playing cards.

It was so fucking tempting. Santino loved betting. Not just betting but winning . He’d wipe the floor with these guys if he played.

Santino groaned. “Nah, put that away. You know I’ve gotta study.”

“Good for you, Donahue. No cards,” Captain Ryan interjected gruffly, pushing up from the table to get a cup of coffee. “I want to hear that your dumb ass passed that exam on your first try. Prove to me miracles can happen every once in a while.”

With a wry shake of his head, Santino got up from the table too. “Thanks for believing in me, Cap.”

At his sarcasm, Cap warned, “Don’t be a smartass.”

“Which is it? Am I a dumbass or a smartass? You’ve gotta make up your mind, Cap.”

“Just go study, alright?”

Smirking, Santino snatched a couple of grapes and popped them in his mouth as he left to get the manual.

He took it to the bay where the rigs were, his favorite place at the station.

Cap was right. It probably would be a miracle if he passed the lieutenant’s exam.

He’d never been one for the books, but then he’d never had to be.

His dad had stressed working a real job, but the truth was, Santino had never really had to worry about money due to his grandfather Marco’s winery and the money deposited in his account every month.

He kept quiet about that around the station, that and the fact that they were descended from actual nobility.

Some of the guys resented it, or at least didn’t understand why he and Angelo were there, risking their lives coming from a family like the D’Alessios when they didn’t need a paycheck.

He might not have needed the money but cliches aside, he really did take serving his community seriously.

Some guys did it for the adrenaline rush, for the admiring looks people gave them when they sped by on the way to a rescue.

For him, it was doing his part to make life better for people. That’s it.

Staying at his current level indefinitely would have been fine, but he knew he could do more.

He’d worked his ass off to get this far in the department, especially considering the setback when no one could rely on him.

Making lieutenant was the next challenge.

Failing the exam was not an option, even though studying this book was boring as fuck.

Before he could get very far in his reading, his phone rang. It was Dominic.

“Yo.”

“What’s up? How’s work?” Dom asked.

“Quiet. What’s up?” Santino said, absently flipping through the chapter.

“I got that company name and address you wanted. Lunasa, Inc. 185 Franklin Street. Not far from Ghostbuster Headquarters.”

Santino paused to enter the address in a memo on his own phone and also to wonder if Dom believed the Ghostbusters were actually working out of that building. “Alright, cool. Thanks.”

He put the phone away. It wasn’t time yet to pull the trigger and talk to Malone. First, he was going to try to convince Vanessa that her new guy wasn’t who she thought he was. But instead of calling her, which wouldn’t help since she’d fucking blocked him, he called his lawyer, Oscar Sanchez.

“Whassup, whassup, Bronx bro ?” Oscar said cheerfully, the “bro” on a high note.

“Queens bro !” Santino responded. “I want to make a meeting with Vanessa and that cute lawyer you’re thirsting after.”

Oscar chuckled. “Calm down, it’s not like that.

I mean she is a peach and juicy as fuck , but you know I can’t get involved with opposing counsel while a case is ongoing.

The senior partners would have my ass. Anyway, what’s up?

What’s the meeting for? You’re not thinking of actually giving up and signing, are you?

” He sounded almost hopeful. “I don’t mind you paying for my mom’s Benz, chamaco , but this has gone on longer than most divorces I’ve handled. ”

“Tell them I am.”

“What do you mean, tell them you are? You ending this siege once and for all, or is this a Trojan horse to get under her skin?”

“Trojan horse,” Santino confirmed. “Tell them I’ll sign, but I want to see more financial info first. She might have gotten a raise.” In fact, he knew she had. His sister-in-law Dani had mentioned it. She and Vanessa had somehow become friends.

“You’re not gonna make me ask for alimony again, are you? Lil’ Mama just about went upside my head the last time I proposed that. She was so mad,” Oscar said with a low laugh.

Santino grinned, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. “Not again, no. Vanessa was ready to stab me, too. Just say I’ll sign if I get a minute alone with her to talk. It really is important.”

“Alright, I’ll set it up. Anything else?”

“That’s it. Thanks, man.”

Santino hung up, staring at the light-dappled leafy green trees across the street in the late afternoon sunshine.

It brought to mind the way the same pattern played across Vanessa’s face when she first opened her eyes in the morning and smiled at him.

He switched out the study guide for his sketchbook, opened it, and fell into drawing.

Within the hour, Oscar called back. “The meeting’s on. Friday at three.”

“I’ll be there.”