Kira
The Italian has been in my family for years. It was a bistro that my mother’s Nonna opened. Well, it was probably her husband as a front for his underground business dealings, but she ran it with pride.
Many of the recipes have been passed down through generations, and I remember wanting to work here during my college days so that I could learn them too.
I landed up learning them from a Zia in Italy while I was there.
I’ve been at The Italian for three weeks now, and I’m thrilled to see it’s getting increasingly popular as I add more dishes. I’ve also been working on the social media presence so that we get the name out there.
At first, the staff was apprehensive of me, but after teaching them several valuable new methods and listening to them about how they like to run the kitchen, we compromised. Now we run a tight ship-if I do say so myself.
Everyone is amicable, and I know Alessandro pays more than the usual rates to keep the staff loyal to the family.
Every day one of my family members is in for a meal. Usually, Carmine and Dom come in around lunchtime. I know their favorites, but I want them to try something new today.
They haven’t come in yet, but the dish I want to serve them has been slow cooking for hours. I came in early to start it, and I know they will love it.
I have already told the hostess to let me know the minute they arrive. While I wait, I make a gremolata, a green sauce from chopped parsley, lemon zest, and garlic that I’ll serve with the meal. I also have some polenta made up.
“Chef? They’re here,” Kim says, sticking her head into the kitchen. I glance at her. “Just the two of them?”
“And Mr. Alessandro,” she says with a smile. “I’ve seated them in the VIP section.”
“Excellent, take them white wine, not red. Wait,” I stop her, “get me the wine, and I’ll take it.”
I make sure I look respectable as I step out of the kitchen. Kim hands me a bottle of expensive white wine, and I walk over to the private booth at the back. “Gentlemen, lovely to have you here.”
“The chef herself,” Alessandro chuckles, “We must be important.”
“I must be important to warrant a visit from you, Don Sorvino,” I say respectfully because I know the staff are watching the interaction.
“Dominic says you’ve improved on the recipes left by Bisnonna. I’m interested to see your improvements, especially because I see how popular The Italian is getting.”
I blush slightly and nod. “I have prepared a special meal today for Dominic and Carmine, as I know they come in every day this time for lunch. They order the same thing every day, and I’ve decided they will try something special today. I think you will enjoy it, too, Don Alessandro.”
I show them the bottle of wine. “This meal is best complimented with white wine.” I uncork the wine and start to fill their glasses. “While you sip on this, I’ll get your meal.”
“Please bring a plate for yourself, Kira,” Alessandro says, “I insist.”
I nod and go back to the kitchen to plate the food. I leave the waitresses to bring the food while I join the boys.
“This is Osso Buco, beef shank seared with flavor before slow cooking for hours in white wine to make the meat tender. Accompanied with vegetables and gremolata, a sauce I learned in Italy.”
They don’t say anything at first, then Dominic moans, “This is delicious, Kira. I’m going to order this every day.”
I laugh and taste it myself. I did pull it off rather well.
We chit-chat as we eat, no one dares to interrupt us, but I know the kitchen can handle itself for an hour or two while I take lunch.
“You’ve been working so hard,” Dominic comments. “That’s one of the reasons we’ve come here.”
“Did I do something wrong?” I ask curiously.
Dominic shakes his head. “Not at all. I have decided to babysit Raphael while you go out with Arianna tonight to La Club.”
I shake my head. “I shouldn’t….”
“Oh, but you should,” Alessandro says with a smile. “Meet Arianna at her cottage on our property at seven. Dominic will be at your house just before then.”
I nod. “Okay, then I guess I’m going out.”
We finish our meal, and I go back to work.
Later, I’m a bit nervous about leaving my son with my cousin, but if I knew one thing about Dominic, Raphael would be more than protected with him there. I knock on the cottage door, and Arianna throws it open.
“Kira!”
She flings her arms around me and hugs me tightly. “Right, you look like a nun.” I look at my smart black dress and black pumps, and she continues, “Luckily, I got you an outfit today. It’s in my room, get changed, your makeup is fine. Then we’ll go.”
I try to protest, but there’s no point with my cousins. They are always like this.
I change into the rather short red dress and the high heels that have been provided. When I walk out of the room, Arianna claps her hands together. “Magnificent, just let loose your hair, and we’re ready to go.”
I don’t move and look at her. “Arianna, I hope you’re not trying to hook me up with someone.”
“While I love that idea,” she grins, “I am not. I just want to have a good time.”
I take the clip out of my hair and put it in my purse. Arianna uses her fingers to brush out my hair, and the strands curl down my back and over my shoulders.
“Let’s go,” she says gleefully, a little too much so, dragging me out of the house.
La Club has definitely changed a lot since I’ve been gone, but at the same time, it’s the same. I don’t know how to explain it other than that although the interior may have changed, the crowd and vibe haven’t.
We order drinks and start to dance. Carmine joins us after an hour, but the shooters and ciders are already making me a bit tipsy. Once the song is done, Carmine drags us to the bar for two shots each of Absinthe. I grimace, but I do it. I used to be able to drink a lot, but I haven’t really drunk that much alcohol since Raphael was born.
I wave a hand in front of my face. “I need to fix my makeup.”
“I’ll go with you.” Arianna walks with me to the bathroom, where we both use the facilities and touch up our hair and makeup. We loop arms as we walk out and straight into a crowd coming in.
The one I hit grabs my arms and snarls, “Watch where you’re going.”
I glare up at him, irritated and a little drunk. I can smell alcohol, and it’s nothing I’ve been drinking-it’s clearly coming off him. I meet his eyes, and I recognize him immediately, he doesn’t seem to recognize me at first, but when he lets go of me, I know the ball has dropped.
“Kira,” he murmurs. He straightens himself up and waves his party on. Arianna smiles but doesn’t leave me. She hovers to the side.
“I have to go,” I say, turning to walk back to Carmine. But Miguel grabs my arm and whirls me around, coming down for a kiss. I slap him across the face and hiss, “Don’t touch me.”
“Don Rossi, is there a problem?” I didn’t even see Carmine get over to us so quickly, “I can contact Don Sorvino.”
“No problem,” Miguel says before he looks at Arianna. “You two could be sisters. Aren’t you Don Sorvino’s sister?”
“Are you threatening her?” Carmine growls, but Miguel waves him off.
I look at Arianna. “I have to go. I’m sorry.”
I don’t give her a chance to answer as I leave La Club and hail a cab. I give him the address to my apartment, and I do my best to hold it together.
Dominic is awake and watching television. He looks surprised when I walk in. “Finish so early?” he asks.
“Yeah,” I wave off the implication. “I know, I know. I’m no fun. I was just exhausted.”
Dominic gets up and hugs me tightly. “It’s okay. You can try again another time.”
I smile at him. “Thanks for watching Raphael.”
“Anytime you get some sleep.” He kisses my head and leaves.
I go to the bathroom and shut it. Locking the door, I sink to my knees, put my face in my hands, and silently start crying.
Miguel
I stand there, staring at the Sorvino brat’s boyfriend after, who I thought was Kira, storms out of La Club. I can’t believe it. I’m pretty sure that I am way drunker than I thought I was. I must be hallucinating.
I shouldn’t even be here, this is Sorvino owned, but I like to live dangerously. The idiot boyfriend asks me again if I have a problem, and I wave him off and turn to the group I’m with. “Go home. I have things to think about.”
We all file out of La Club, and I get into my car. Revving the engine high, I take off into the night and go straight back to my apartment.
Once inside and drinking a steaming cup of coffee, I sit at the window overlooking the city.
Kira.
She isn’t dead. She’s back in New York City. Where has she been? What has she been doing? Why did she look so angry to see me? Fuck, I tried to kiss her. If the families find out, there will be hell to pay.
I’ll tell them I don’t know who she is and would drunk-kiss anyone.
I used to be a party animal, especially after she left, so it’s believable.
I run.
I shower.
I climb into bed.
I toss and turn and picture her raging eyes looking into mine. I wanted to kiss her because-back then-it had been such a natural thing we did, such a habitual thing that even after thirteen years, I want to do it just because it’s her.
I see her. Her dark curls. Her curves I adored and devoured so many times before. All of her. She’s stuck in my head.
After breakfast, I send a notice to my family for a meeting at ten. You can’t trust someone to take care of the family business for you. It’s how you end up being shot and overthrown. I go to my office and start addressing the matters on my table. There’s always a pile of things to do, and I’m the man who has to see to it.
People come and go, wanting answers to problems or their next set of instructions from me. Just before ten, I step outside onto the balcony of my apartment and light a Cuban cigar. I inhale deeply and look over the city.
New York. The city that never sleeps.
Like I don’t ever sleep.
I was born and raised here, and I suit the city well.
I hear a knock at my door, and I stub out the cigar, leaving it on an ashtray outside.
“Come in.”
I sit back at my desk as everyone files in, and last but not least, my father. He’s the one who’s retiring. He is mostly retired now. He doesn’t get involved much in family business anymore. Everyone knows I’m the one they answer to now.
My brothers, cousins, uncles, and father are all in one room. One of my cousins, Lyle, is missing, but I know he’ll be along shortly. I sit on my high-backed chair and say, “We need to decide what we’re doing about the
Sorvinos.”
“They pose no immediate threat to us,” my father says. “I still think we should leave them be while we build our forces to overthrow them as
New York’s main family.”
“This move to dethrone Jose Catalan is basically begging for a war.” I look around, and about half the room looks like they agree with me, while the other half looks apprehensive.
“I…”
The door opens, and Lyle hurries in. “Don Rossi, I’m so sorry. I have urgent news. It’s why I am late.”
The frown lingers on my lips. “What is it?”
“One of our main supply warehouses was blown up about twenty minutes ago. Everyone is dead. I had to pay the cops to sniff around without acknowledging the drugs and counterfeit money. They’re keeping the crowds away, but it’s sure to be on the news.”
The rage must be showing in my eyes because I feel everyone, except my father, shrink back from me. I look around. “I want to know who did it.”
Lyle clears his throat, “There was a calling card, boss. It was the Sorvinos.”
He takes a square piece of paper out of his pocket and passes it to me. On the back is Alessandro’s signature, and when I turn it over, I see it’s a crime scene photo of Mr. Kippler’s body. They knew we killed him, but this was going too far. This is going to set back the family thousands of dollars. He also killed my people-men and women who didn’t deserve it. I’m not the warm and fuzzy type, but those workers were loyal to the family.
I crumple up the photo and quickly toss it aside. “Fucking Sorvinos.”
“They’re declaring war,” my brother Ricardo says. “It’s all-out war.”
“We should give a strong response. Show them we won’t back down or cower.” It’s my father’s suggestion, but I shake my head.
“Cool heads must prevail. If we start retaliating, they’ll attack us, and on it will go. No, we need to hit them where it hurts.”
Everyone is silent as I think, I go outside, leaving them standing there, and I light my cigar and come back. I don’t normally smoke inside, but I make exceptions.
“We need to take one of their own to bargain with. Not only will we get our revenge, but we will also get a piece of their pie.”
“Jose Catalan tried to take members of that family, but it didn’t end well for him,” Jarred says from his spot in the back right.
I shake my head. “They tried to take Frankie and Dominic, strong men who know how to fight back. We need someone easy to take, the weakest link in the family that Alessandro will bend the knee for. We need to take Arianna Sorvino.”
I smirk as my father nods his approval. “It could just work.”
I look at Lyle and Jarred. “She’s about five foot four inches with blue-gray eyes and dark hair. She’s often with her brother Dominic at La Club. Go find her and bring her to me discreetly.”
They hurry off without a word, and I sit back in my high-back chair. “The rest of you set up tight security here and at the estate at Long Beach. I want everyone on this.” I take a deep drag of my cigar as everyone starts filing out.
“You look like you haven’t slept….”
“In thirteen years?” I finish my father’s question. “That’s because I don’t sleep, Padre. Now, you’re not hanging around just to check if I’m getting a good night’s rest, are you?” My green eyes meet his hazel ones, and he nods.
“So much like your mother. You have her eyes,” he comments.
“So you tell me every chance you get,” I stub out the cigar. “What is it, Padre?”
“Be careful declaring war on powerful families because you don’t know if the other families will side with you or betray you,” he says casually as though I don’t know this simple fact. It’s very hard to respect him when he speaks to me, his Don, with such a condescending tone.
I sit back and steeply my fingers over my knee, my leg crossed over the other. “I don’t need other families to align with me. If they take the losing side, I will simply wipe them out of New York like I will Don
Sorvino.”
My father chuckles. “I admire your spirit, boy. Use your head. You were always excellent at long-term strategies. I trust you, don’t make that an unfounded fact.”
He gets up, takes a Cuban cigar out of the box, and pulls his lips down in a gesture that shows he’s mildly impressed. He pockets it and walks out.
I watch as the door closes behind him, and I sigh. My father is a tough man to please, but I won’t completely disregard his advice. I know what I’m doing will be seen as a declaration of war.
Maybe it’s time.
Maybe it’s come to that.
Maybe Kira coming back is the sign that it’s time for this battle to begin.