Page 17 of Buck Baxter and the Mysteries of Love

“Dad?” It felt so unnatural coming out of my mouth.

“You don’t like it? Wait… what about Papa?”

“Papa?” That felt even worse.

“No? How about… Big Daddy?”

“Oh, we’resonot doing that.”

“Sorry, I guess I’m kinda nervous.”

“You’rekinda nervous? You’re not the one who suddenly found out his father happens to be the city’s most notorious gangster.”

“Am I, though?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, I’m not the only kingpin in Wilde City. Mamma Marlow owns half the illegal trade in this town. Hell, we’ve been warring ever since…”

“Ever since what?”

“Ever since she threw her wedding ring at me and walked out the door.”

It wasn’t exactly headline news that before Bugsy and Mamma formed rival gangs in a bid to own Wilde City, they were once a happily married couple. The bigger mystery was—

“Why didn’t I see this coming?” I muttered to myself, suddenly realizing the possibility that—“Oh my God. Is Mamma Marlow my actual mamma?”

I breathed the words so quietly Bugsy could barely hear them.

“What are you mumblin’ about, kid?” Bugsy asked through a mouthful of meatballs. Before I could answer he waved away any response I was about to give. “Never mind. The reason I invited you here tonight was to ask a favor. Mamma Marlow, she’s an untamed shrew if ever there was one, but try as I might there ain’t no snuffing out the flame she holds in my heart. She can ambush every shipment of booze I got coming into town, she can sabotage every crate of illegal firearms I got and send every last one of my boys to the bottom of the river with rocks in their pockets and a sack over their heads, but I’ll forgive her every time. Why? Because no matter how much she hates my guts, I don’t think I’ll ever stop lovin’ that knife-wieldin’, arms-dealin’, money-launderin’, insurance-racketeerin’, narcotics-traffickin’, gun-totin’ gal of mine.” Bugsy gave a lovelorn sigh. “I guess true love never dies.” He stabbed another meatball with his fork and jabbed it in my direction. “That’s where you come in, kid.”

“I do?”

“I wanna extend a long overdue olive branch to that ballsy broad.”

“You do?”

“I wanna offer Mamma Marlow a truce. I want us to put our differences aside and join forces.”

“Join forces? Against who?”

“Against that pompous ass-hat Howard Hart, who else? I can smell a rat a mile away, even through all of Luigi’s garlic. I tell ya, that arrogant son of a bitch is up to no good. I know it, and Mamma knows it too. Our local arms dealers have been feeling the squeeze from Hart’s friends, the Germans, ever since they popped up all over town. Trust me when I say that train of Hart’s is bad news. It ain’t the future of Wilde City. If you ask me, it’s gonna be the end of it.”

“What exactly do you mean by—”

“Flowers!” Bugsy exclaimed, cutting me off and slurping down a dozen slippery strands of spaghetti thatslapped his cheeks before they disappeared. “I need you to take flowers to Mamma. I’ll arrange to have them delivered to your office first thing in the morning. I’ll also have my boys set up a meeting between you and Mamma at her warehouse.” Bugsy put down his fork and leaned forward. “Kid, I need to win that dame back, but not just for me. I wanna do it for the good of this city, but she ain’t gonna let me in the door. You, on the other hand… you’re the best shot I got at fixing things. Promise me you’ll do it. Do it for your Big Daddy.”

“Oh God, please don’t call yourself that again.”

“Fine. Just promise me you’ll do it.”

I drew a deep breath to answer him when Luigi burst through the kitchen doors once more. “Ay, ay, ay,il ragazzoain’t even picked up his fork yet, let alone tasted my meatballs!Mamma mia!”

Bugsy grinned my way. “We’ve been busy talkin’. And it ain’tmamma miawe’ve been talkin’ about.” He licked the ragu off his lips. “So, son… what’ll it be?”

CHAPTER 9

I agreed.

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