"Come on," Melody says. "We'll get there faster if we just ride with him. Besides, ugh, I don't really feel like taking the subway today."
"But…" Leo stalls, taking a deep breath, before shaking it off. "Okay, I guess."
Naz doesn't seem offended by the boy's hesitance, but I almost am.
I think I get it, though.
He's intimidating.
He still makes me nervous sometimes.
The Mercedes is parked less than a block away. We climb in it, and Naz starts the engine, the locks automatically clicking in place the second he puts the car in drive. My eyes are fixed to the side mirror, and from my peripheral I see Leo flinch in the backseat, his gaze on the door. He looks like he wants to jump out, like he's already considering tucking and rolling in the middle of the road, when Naz pulls into traffic.
Melody seems oblivious, though.
When we reach the first stoplight, Naz reaches up, adjusting his rearview mirror, angling it so he can look in the backseat.
Melody talks incessantly during the drive. I haven't seen her so carefree in a long, long time…
Leo, on the other hand, looks wound tight.
Naz's eyes flicker between the road and the rearview mirror the entire way to Brooklyn. I try to humor my friend, chatting back to her, but my attention is on him.
A sinking feeling is settling in the pit of my stomach.
I'm starting to think this was a bad idea.
A terrible fucking idea.
And I'm absolutely sure of it the second we make it to the pizzeria and Naz, as usual, secures a table right away. We follow the hostess to the small, round table in the back, isolated away from the other diners. Naz pulls my chair out for me, eyeing Leo as the boy does the same for Melody.
"Bottle of your best wine," Naz tells the woman.
She brings it promptly, preceded by the owner of the restaurant. Andretti, I think his name was. He approaches the table, a wide smile on his face, greeting Naz like Giuseppe greets, well… everyone except for Naz.
"Ah, Vitale!" the man says, grinning as he squeezes Naz's shoulder affectionately. "Che piacere vederti!"
Naz responds with something I don't comprehend, and they go back and forth for a minute, spouting off Italian, as the cork is popped on the bottle of wine. I listen, even though I have absolutely no idea what either of them are saying, and can feel my face heating when both men look my way.
"Ciao, bella," the owner says, reaching over and grabbing my hand, kissing the back of it. "Come stai, uh… special someone?"
"Karissa," Naz says. "Her name's Karissa."
"Karissa," the man repeats, raising his eyebrows as he waits for me to answer whatever the hell he'd just asked me.
"Uh… hey," I say, pulling my hand away.
I have no idea what I'm supposed to say.
"He asked how you're doing," Naz interjects, pouring wine into his own glass.
"Oh, I'm good," I say. "Great, really. Wonderful."
The man's eyes narrow as he starts firing stuff off, fast and fluent and right over my fucking head. I stare at him as he animatedly talks with his hands, motioning toward me, before stalling, eyebrows raised, like he again expects me to answer some kind of question that was in there.
"He said you're lying," Naz chimes in, pouring a bit of wine in the other three glasses. "He says you look… how can I put this nicely? Run down."
"Nice," I mutter. "Tell him I said thanks for the compliment. I appreciate it."
Before Naz can say anything, the man continues, spouting out something that makes Naz choke on thin air. He coughs, laughing, and shakes his head. "No, no… she's just been under the weather."
The man eyes me for a moment before shrugging it off, looking to Melody. He greets her warmly in Italian, also taking her hand and kissing the back of it, before his eyes gloss over Leo. It's subtle, the shift in the man's demeanor.
He says nothing to him.
No hello.
No nice to have you.
Nothing.
Instead, he turns to Naz, leaning closer, mumbling something I can't hear. Not that I'd understand it, anyway, but the man is intentionally trying to conceal it from prying ears. Naz nods in confirmation to whatever it is, and the owner again squeezes his shoulder before simply walking away.
"Tell me something, Leo," Naz says, picking up his glass and swirling the red wine around before taking a sip. "Are you fluent, or do you just know a bit?"
Leo looks over at him, for the first time meeting his eyes. "What?"
"Mi avete sentito," Naz says, his tone clipped. "Tu parli Italiano."
Leo hesitates before mumbling, "Just a bit."
Naz nods, like he's not surprised by that answer, but I am. I know enough to grasp where this conversation is going and son of a bitch… Leo speaks Italian?
I glance at Melody. She seems just as surprised by that. "You know Italian?"
Leo looks at her, a slight flush on his cheeks, like he's embarrassed to be having this conversation. "Some… the basics, I guess, but not much more than that."
"Wow." Melody leans toward him. "Say something dirty to me."
I laugh at that, as does Naz, but Leo's flush only deepens.
"Drink," Naz says, shoving Leo's glass toward him. "You'll probably need to with that one there."
Melody rolls her eyes at that, grabbing her glass, and guzzles down all of her drink before reaching out, asking for more. Naz obliges, pouring her some wine, before setting the bottle in the middle of the table, telling her to help herself to as much as she wants.
It's strange, seeing him so… nice.
He's nice to me, sure. He spoils me. And he's always tolerated Melody, to an extent, for my sake. But right now he's being hospitable, like maybe he is actually trying to make friends. He's trying.
We order food.
They drink wine.
I take a sip, but it's too bitter for my taste buds, and I'm not really feeling it, whatever it is. So I drink water instead, watching as they grow at ease, Leo's posture not as tense, but it doesn't escape my notice that he still tries not to look at my husband.