Page 77 of College Town

Under the table, Tommy’s foot presses up against his. A cue and a caution, both.

Lawson thinks of Frank’s warning. Of Noah’s doubt. Of Mrs. Cattaneo’s puckered up mouth and petrified gaze.

Thinks ofsweetheart.

Tommy believes in him. Even if it’s a fiction, Tommy’salwaysbelieved in him, in hiswords, in his ability to spin stories and to entertain.

He sniffs, and digs down deep in his chest, and finds a voice that isn’t his own, but which causes Tommy’s foot to jerk against his. It’s a little broad New York, a little bit shithead, a little bratty. He drawls, “Oh, no, I can speak. But I fail to see the point of it in this sort of company. Do you guys understand English? Or should I grunt and swing my club around?”

On his other side, Frank kicks him hard in the ankle.

The kid, Taylor, up ‘til now rocked back on two chair legs, flops forward with a bang and a rattle of glassware on the table.

Stefan’s brows go up.

Sal scowls, and looks even more like a bulldog. To Tommy, he says, “You think you’re funny, Cattaneo? Trotting in some chucklefuck and making us look like–”

“Excuse me,” Tommy says, levelly. “But I said Lawson was a partner, because he is. I’m many things, Sal, but a liar and a practical joker aren’t among them.”

Still scowling, Sal takes a long, appraising look at Lawson.

Lawson says, “Unlike you, Tom–” he catches himself before he can say Tommy, “is upfront about his business.”

Sal snorts, and Lawson thinks he’s said the wrong thing, but Frank doesn’t kick him again.

Stefan says, “Okay, so, you cleaned him up.” His up-and-down appraisal of Lawson comes with a curled lip. “But the idiot was working in a coffeeshop yesterday morning. What the fuck’s with that?”

Frank leans forward and snags a breadstick from a basket. Lawson wants to ask if it’s wise to eat or drink anything already on the table when they sat down – he thinks not – but Frank only tears it to bits on top of his plate. “Oh, so it’s like that? You’re gonna pretend you haven’t got secret little civvie-looking jerk-offs working at every gas station around here? Come on,” he scoffs. “This” – he circles a finger toward Lawson and back to his bread – “is how we do things in the sticks. Usandyou.”

Tommy says, “A coffeeshop is the perfect front, don’t you think? Of course, we don’t know what you’re using as a front, because we’re notfucking following your people.” The last comes out sharp and biting, emphasized by a thump of his index finger on the tablecloth.

“Hey, it’s a free country,” Taylor says.

Stefan cuffs him in the back of the head and the kid lurches forward, but falls silent.

Tommy angles his torso so he addresses all three Giacolettis at once. “All of you were there that day in New York when we shook on a formal agreement. We drew literal lines on a map and everything, splitting up territory. Andoneof those conditions to our peace” – he holds up an indignant finger – “was that Eastman would fall under my jurisdiction. This is my town, and your whole crew fucking agreed to it face-to-face.

“Andnow,” he continues, winding up, aggression layering into his voice, “there’s ten dead kids and a fucking shooting to account for in my town, and the shit’s raining down onmyhead because this ismy territory.”

“Anyone could be selling that shit here,” Stefan says with a sneer. “Who says it was us?”

“You’re in town, dipshit,” Frank says. “What, did Eastman become a destination spot all of a sudden?”

Sal sends the younger man a withering look, then faces Tommy. Spreads his hands, placating. “We didn’t know the shit was laced.”

Tommy leans forward, nostrils flared. “But you knew you weren’t supposed to be selling here in the first place. Right?”

Sal sighs. “It’s business. What do you want from me?”

“I want you to stick to the terms of the fucking peace accords, asshole!”

“Hey, no need for name calling,” Stefan says.

“It ends now,” Tommy says, stabbing the tabletop again. The water ripples in the glasses. “Right now. Call off your dogs in Eastman.”

“Or what?” Sal lifts a brow. “You’ll break the treaty?” There’s a taunt laced through his words.

“Not if I don’t have to.” Tommy subsides back in his chair with an obvious effort at dialing down his anger. “I’m proposing an amendment to the original.”

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