The Promise Read online

  It was strange and unsettling to compare him to his brother, but even so, the fact remained that Vinnie not only never offered to carry anything for me, there were times he bitched when I asked.

  Though, it was more. As my experience with men was limited, my girlfriends had reported the same thing.

  “Babe?” he prompted.

  Again in unchartered female territory, I cautiously answered, “My lip gloss.”

  His eyes dropped to my dress and he asked with more than mild incredulity, “You got it on you?”

  I shook my head. “I left it in the bathroom.”

  “I’ll get it,” he muttered and moved that way.

  “Ben, you wanna know which one to grab?” I called to his back.

  He turned and looked at me. “Babe, you think I don’t have that shade committed to memory, you’d be thinkin’ wrong.”

  My heart squeezed again.

  Ben disappeared.

  He returned, got close, and waved the tube of lip gloss at me. “This it?”

  He was a miracle man.

  “Yep.”

  He shoved it in his inside jacket pocket and asked, “Anything else?”

  “Nope.”

  He grinned, grabbed my hand, and pulled me out the door.

  We were in his truck on our way to Giuseppe’s when something occurred to me.

  “Do you know where my car is?”

  “What?”

  I turned to look at him. “I left my car in front of Daniel Hart’s house.”

  “Yeah, right. Manny went to get it.”

  I stared at him. “What?”

  “Man,” Ben stated. “Police gave us your purse at the hospital, told us where your car was and that it was okay to move it. Gave Man your keys, he took it to your pad. It’s parked in the spot with your apartment number on it in the parking garage.”

  That was nice.

  “Said you need a tune up,” Ben continued. “Sweet ride, babe, 280Z with a T-top. But you gotta take care of it.” He made a turn and finished on a mutter, “I’ll get it in my garage, get under the hood.”

  “You don’t have to do that,” I told him, turning to face forward. “Got a guy who specializes. With things crazy because of the new job and the move, I haven’t gotten it to him. I was gonna do that before I went to Indy.”

  “I’ll do it,” Benny said.

  “He specializes, Ben,” I replied.

  “Know my way around a Z, Frankie.”

  I shut my mouth because I knew he did. Not because he’d owned one, but because he’d had a girlfriend once who owned one.

  This brought me to remember something I forgot that I’d always thought was sweet about Benny, actually about all the Bianchis. When he’d had her, he’d taken care of that car for her. Vinnie had done the same for me. You had a Bianchi man, mechanics and oil change shops were a memory.

  I also remembered more.

  I remembered that she’d lasted longer than any of the other women Benny was with, over two years. It was when I was with Vinnie so I knew her. Her name was Connie. She was very beautiful and very sweet. The whole family was hoping it would go somewhere, including me.

  It didn’t and Vinnie, as Benny told it true, had a big mouth, so I knew why it didn’t.

  She was too sweet. A pushover.

  “My brother’s a man who needs a challenge, babe,” Vinnie had said. “A woman’s gotta stir his blood in more ways than one. You dig?”

  At the time, I didn’t dig. I’d liked Connie and I’d thought Benny was crazy for letting her go.

  I knew now Connie would come right there when Benny demanded it. And I knew now that might be okay, for a while. Then it would bore him stupid.

  These thoughts made me feel warm and weird at the same time.

  I didn’t know if it was right, if it would make me feel less weird or more, or make Benny feel weird at all, but I still asked, “How is Connie?”

  “Married to Tommy Lasco. Two kids, another on the way. They moved to Calumet City three years ago,” he stated indifferently.

  As he was talking, my eyes got big and I turned to him again. “Tommy Lasco?”

  “Yep.”

  “Oh my God,” I breathed.

  “Yep,” Benny agreed.

  Tommy Lasco was a bully in school who turned into an asshole out of it. He was good-looking, not as good-looking as any of the Bianchis, including Manny. Vinnie and Benny were strikingly handsome in a way that caught your attention and did not let go. Manny was hot and had it going on, but he was not quite that.

  But being an asshole always made a man less attractive.

  I turned my head and told the windshield, “I don’t like that for her.”

  “She’s happy.”

  Again, I looked at him. “You’re sure?”

  I saw his shoulders shrug. “They fit. Makes no sense to me, but he loves her. Treats her like gold. He’s a massive dick to everybody else, no exception, but thinks the world of her, their kids. Somehow, she saw her way past the dick he was to the guy he could be with her, and somehow, he found his way not to be a dick to her.”

  At least that was something.

  I looked back to the road, murmuring, “How did I not hear of this?”

  “They live quiet. She likes it like that. He gives it to her.”

  Another shocker about Tommy Lasco. He was the kind of asshole who liked to spread his asshole-ness around, loud and proud.

  “That’s nice,” I remarked.

  “Yep,” Benny agreed.

  I rubbed my lips together, thinking about it, then I went for it. “Does that make you feel weird? You guys were together for a while.”

  “Nope,” Benny replied immediately. “Glad she’s happy. She wasn’t for me. I burned her bad and that sucked. Didn’t like doin’ it to her ’cause she was sweet, but she wasn’t for me. Sayin’ that, she found what she needed in the end and nothin’ to feel about that but happy for her that she got what she needed.”

  He did burn her bad. She was devastated when Ben broke it off.

  But it was coming clear that shit happened, and when it was done, Benny put it behind him. He did that firm and he moved on, leaving it there and not looking back.

  And this was something to consider.

  Ben made a turn and we were on the street that led to the alley that held Giuseppe’s.

  “Gonna drop you at the door, honey,” he said. “May have to park at a distance and don’t want you walkin’ that.”

  And more good from Benny.

  “Okay,” I said softly. “But I need a refresh of lip gloss.”

  He dug into his jacket and handed me the tube. I flipped down the visor and did my swiping as Ben made the turn into the alley. I flipped the visor up, watched as Ben drove down the alley, and I saw it.

  Two scrolled, wrought-iron railings coming up from a short stairwell that led to the bowels of the building. A sign dimly lit by two arched lights over it that said only Giuseppe’s. Planters attached to the brick of the building from street level all the way up and over the recessed door to the restaurant, dripping with flowers and greenery, same with two tall, attractive planters on either side of the railings. Deep-seated benches on each side of the door beyond the planters where people could sit and wait for tables or go out and have a smoke and not stand around loitering. The benches were lit with more of the arched lights, two for each bench.

  Total class.

  Ben stopped and put the Explorer in neutral. I had my door open, but he was at it before I could get a foot to the running board.

  I didn’t ever get a foot to the running board. Hands at my hips, he lifted me out of the SUV and put me on my feet. Without me asking him, he slipped my lip gloss from my fingers and tucked it in his jacket. And after that, even though the steps were four feet away, he led me there, hand in hand.

  He stopped me at the top and I looked up at him.

  “Be back,” he said, then dipped his head and touched his mouth to my freshly glossed
one with no apparent aversion to this fact. I watched him saunter back to his truck with his thumb at his lips, rubbing away my gloss. Something strange but not unwelcome shifted inside me at the casual way he did this. Then I watched him slam the passenger side door he left open, round the hood, angle in, and drive away.

  I kept my eyes to the alley for a while before I turned and looked down the steps.

  Vinnie had never taken me there.

  In the early days, before it got exclusive with Vinnie, I’d had a date with a guy who took me there.

  The instant Vinnie found out some guy had taken me there, he pressed for exclusive. He knew what it meant when a guy took a woman to Giuseppe’s.

  Why he never took me there himself, I would never know.

  But right then, I couldn’t go in. Not alone. Instead, I moved to a bench, sat and waited for Benny.

  It didn’t take long for him to show, and when he strolled into the dim light, I saw his eyes narrowed on me.

  I gained my feet and he was right there.

  “Why didn’t you go in?” he asked.

  “Waitin’ for you,” I answered.

  He studied me a second before he took my hand and, without a word, led me to the steps.

  Then we were in. Music playing so soft you could barely hear it. A faint hum of conversation that made you think every patron was whispering. Muted noises of silverware clinking on china or crystal tinkling against glass. Candlelight on the tables and in some sconces on the walls. A fresh, extraordinary, but understated bouquet of roses at the hostess station.

  Love in the air.

  Its silken feel glided down my throat as Ben stopped us at the hostess station and Elena appeared before us. She wore a trim, black sheath dress that skimmed her knees and a pair of delicate, black slingbacks with peekaboo toes, her hair pulled back in a soft updo.

  “Frankie and Benny,” she said quietly, her lips curved up in a slight smile, her hands held out low to her sides.

  Elena was ten years older than me, maybe a bit more. I knew her not because I’d eaten at her restaurant only once, but because she went to the same church as my family, she lived in the ’hood so I saw her around, and, even having her own eatery, she’d come to Vinnie’s Pizzeria more than once (because everyone in the ’hood had been to Vinnie’s more than once).

  She was like her restaurant, like her father was before her and, if rumor served, her grandfather was before him. Pure elegance.

  She came to me first. Grabbing my hands, she leaned in and touched one cheek to mine, then she moved to touch the other one before she kept hold of my hands and shifted away to catch my eyes.

  “You’re well?” she asked.

  “Yeah,” I answered.

  “So brave,” she said softly.

  She’d heard. This wasn’t a surprise. She was from the ’hood. Not to mention, it was on TV.

  “Thanks,” I replied.

  She squeezed my hands before she let me go and turned to Benny, giving him the same treatment but without the hand-holding. Instead, she let her hand rest lightly on his upper arm.

  She moved from Benny and said, “Let’s get you to your table.”

  Not waiting for us to respond, she started to glide through the restaurant. Ben put his hand to the skin at the small of my back and guided me after her.

  With the shortness of time when Benny made the reservation, I was surprised that Elena led us to a premier spot—a corner table, even quieter and more private than any of the other tables due to a strategically placed planter. She stood to the side, smiling with approval as Ben proved further how awesome he could be when he shifted around me to pull back my chair.

  I sat. He scooched me in, rounded the table, then he sat.

  Elena moved in and floated a hand low across the table, saying, “Someone will bring your menus shortly. If you require anything, just ask.” She dipped her chin and finished, “Buon appetito.”

  With that, she glided away.

  I watched her do it, saying, “She’s the shit.”

  I heard Benny chuckle as he agreed, “Yeah.”

  I looked to him. “You been here before?”

  “Yep, Ma and Pop’s thirty-fifth wedding anniversary. They hired out the back room. And brought a couple of women here.”

  “Oh,” I murmured as a young woman in a fabulous but refined black dress swooped in and handed Ben and me our tall, leather-bound menus.

  We said thanks and she’d barely moved away when a waiter wearing a white shirt, black tie, black trousers, and a pristine, long, white apron arrived with a pedestal bucket of Champagne he placed on the floor behind Benny’s chair.

  “Compliments of Elena,” he murmured. He put two flutes on the table, popped the cork, and expertly poured. “I’ll be back for your order or to answer any questions you may have,” he stated while shoving the bottle back in the ice, then he drifted away.

  The Champagne was a surprise. Then again, it wasn’t every day a girl from the ’hood survived a kidnapping and being shot, this making the news, and a couple of weeks later goes out with the man who rescued her.

  All of us surviving that situation was worthy of celebration. It was very like Elena to think the same and do something about it.

  I reached to my flute but saw Ben’s fingers close on the stem before I got near it.

  He took it away and I looked to him.

  “When was your last pill?” he asked.

  “This morning,” I answered.

  “You gonna need one to get through the night?”

  The pain was nagging, and from experience, I knew it was likely to get worse. So the answer to that was yes.

  Therefore, I gave him that answer.

  “Yes.”

  “Frankie, read the leaflet that came with your meds. No alcohol.”

  I blinked. “But I’m at Giuseppe’s.”

  “Yeah. And I’ll bring you back and you can drink all the Champagne you want then. Now, you be safe.”

  I made a grab for my glass, saying, “I’m sure it’ll be all right.”

  Ben pulled back the glass, saying, “I’m not, so you’re gonna be safe.”

  I focused on him. “Ben, just a glass.”

  “Francesca, no.”

  It was then I glared at him and declared, “Already this is not a fun date.”

  This did not perturb him in the slightest and I knew that when he stated, “It’ll be less fun you have a seizure or go to sleep and don’t wake up or start gettin’ sick or whatever the reason is they put on that leaflet you shouldn’t drink while on those pills.”

  “It’s probably not that dramatic.”

  “Babe, you’ve been shot. Against all that’s holy in a Chicago that is not the bootlegging, roaring twenties, your man decided to become a wise guy and ended up whacked. Your brother is about to go bankrupt due to the child support he’ll be payin’, or his story will be a made-for-TV movie when all those bitches he’s tagging or recently tagged lose their minds and turn on him and/or each other. You’re a drama magnet. You wanna flirt with that, proves you’re the nut I know you to be. But you aren’t gonna do it on my watch.”

  “How is it that you can make being rational and protective so incredibly annoying?” I asked on a snap, and he grinned.

  “It’s a gift.”

  I rolled my eyes.

  Benny took a sip from my Champagne glass.

  I snapped my menu open and proceeded to study it with the intention of memorizing every word, even if it took me all night.

  Unfortunately, it would be rude to make the waiter keep coming back to the table to ask if we were ready to order. So the first time he showed, I ordered the fried calamari, the spinach salad, and the lobster risotto, the last being the most expensive thing on the menu.

  I ended my order with, “Later, don’t trouble yourself with offering us a look at the dessert tray. Just bring it.”

  He bowed his head to me and looked to Benny, who placed his own order and ended it with, “Your bar
tender got it in him to make a virgin Bellini?”

  I pressed my lips together because I loved Bellinis. They were my favorite. Benny obviously remembered and it was sweet that he did.

  “I’m sure he does,” the waiter replied.

  “Right, then bring my girl one and be certain she doesn’t have an empty glass.”

  The waiter nodded, took his menu to add to the one he’d divested me of, and swept away.

  Ben looked at me. “Good to know Lincoln’s didn’t shave the edge off that appetite.”

  I grabbed my napkin, snapped it out to my side, and put it on my lap.

  Benny continued as I did so, “Also good to know I’ll need to give myself a raise so I can take you out occasionally and be able to afford it.”

  I crossed my legs under the table and moved a hand in order to arrange my cutlery so it was meticulously positioned around the plate sitting in front of me, even though it was already meticulously positioned.

  “Francesca,” he called.

  I cut my eyes to him. “What?”

  “I’d buy you a plate piled high with sapphires and be happy sittin’ across from you as you picked through them, even if you were doin’ it pissed at me for being rational and protective.”

  My stomach dropped, my heart squeezed, and I leaned into him to hiss, “Stop bein’ awesome.”

  He threw his head back and laughed, showing me he didn’t intend to stop being awesome because he looked good and sounded good doing it.

  When he was down to chuckling, his hand darted across the table and closed around mine. Twisting, he forced his fingers to lace through mine and rested our hands on the table.

  Once he’d accomplished that, he looked into my eyes and stated, “Been waitin’ years for this, baby. Thanks for makin’ it worth the wait.”

  “You’re still bein’ awesome,” I informed him.

  “Yeah, and it’s cute as fuck that annoys you.”

  “Now you’re bein’ awesome and insane,” I shared.

  His head cocked slightly to the side. “A man likes what he likes. I’m a man who likes you and your attitude.”

  “Whatever,” I muttered, even though I liked that he liked that and I liked it a lot.

  “What makes you happy?” he asked suddenly, and I felt my body jolt at the question, not just because it was sudden, but because it was unexpectedly weighty.