Page 1 of Wild Ace

Chapter 1

Lexi

My nonno sighs and takes his glasses off, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “You need to go out more, Alexis.”

Smiling, I shake my head. “I go out.”

“If you mean you leave your apartment to come here to check on me before and after your classes to make sure I’m okay, then yes, you go out.”

A small laugh bubbles out of me. “Nonno!”

“Alexis, honey, you’re young. You need to go out and have fun. Meet a man.”

“I have time for all of that.”

“Not as much as you think. One day you’ll wake up old like me and realize you should’ve done a lot more when you were young.”

“You’re not old, nonno, and you know I love you and this place.”

Four months ago, he tore his ACL after a misstep he had walking down the stairs from his apartment above the deli. He’s owned and operated Manzato’s Delicatessen for forty years and has walked those stairs thousands of times over the decades, but with one slip, I’m reminded that one of the only family members I have left isn’t as young as I think he is.

I had only just started my fall semester of my senior year of college when it happened, so I was able to drop all my classes without penalty to take care of him and make sure the deli remained open and operating. But on his insistence, I started school again for the spring semester two weeks ago and he hired a local boy to pick up some of the slack.

“I know, but it’s Friday and I don’t need your help for the rest of the day. So, I’m demanding you take the rest of it off from checking up on me. Tomorrow, too. Call that friend of yours from school who came by the other week to say hi and go out and have fun tonight.”

“I don’t think—”

“I insist,” he says, cutting me off. “Now go.” He starts pushing me towards the door.

“Nonno!”

“Go! Go! Dress up and have fun!”

“Alright!” I laugh. “I’m going. But I make no promises about tomorrow.”

“We’ll see,” he mumbles, and I smile as I’m shuffled out the door.

I spent so much of my childhood in that deli, loving that it had my last name loud and proud on the wooden sign above the awning. Both are faded and weathered now, and in need of replacing, but it’s still there, and I’m still proud.

My nonno and nonna came over from Italy almost fifty years ago. She was the daughter of a wealthy vineyard owner and he worked in the fields. They got married in secret when they found out she was pregnant and after her father threatened my nonno for trying to steal his daughter away when she was meant for someone better. And by better, he meant richer.

They chose to sever all ties and ran away to America to start a new life together, making sure both them and their baby, my father, were given a chance at a happy life away from my nonna’s controlling family.

They settled in Atlantic City and rented the apartment above the deli where my nonno got a job. It was called Sunrise Deli before, but when my nonno took over, he renamed it.

He built a life for him and my nonna that they enjoyed together for many years until my nonna passed away five years ago. My father passed away five years before she did, and since they couldn’t have any more children after my father due to complications, the only family I’m left with is my nonno and my mom. Although, my mom has been in New York City with her new husband for a few years, living her second act in life, so it’s just my nonno and I in this city I’ve called home my entire life.

The deli has always been my second home, and it’s been hard to see it fall into the state it has, having had little to no updates or renovations over the past four or five decades. That hasn’t kept the devoted regulars away, though. They know the quality of food is far above anything else in town, and my nonno is one-of-a-kind and a friend to all. He knows every single one of his regular’s names, and makes a point to get to know each and every one of his returning customers. He always said a customer should only be a customer once, after that, they’re a friend.

I love him for that.

He’s the kindest man I know. He’s the best man I know. Which is why I’d do anything to help him. Put college on hold, go to work with him every day, take care of him to make sure he has everything he needs. Anything. But he’s right, I do need to make a little more room in my life for fun.

Getting in my car, I pull out my phone to call my best friend. I’m not a big fan of this car. Every time I’m in it, it reminds me that my mom’s new husband bought it for me because my previous one finally broke down right after they got married, and he insisted. I knew he was just being nice and trying to help me, so I let him. But that doesn’t mean I don’t wish I didn’t.

He's a nice enough guy, and he treats my mom well, but he’s not my dad.

My parents were both dealers at Sahara’s Casino, which is how they met. But about six years ago, four years after my dad died, Charles became a regular at my mom’s poker table. Every time he was in town from the city, he would only ever sit at her table, talking to her between games and always trying to get her to go out with him after her shift.

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