Page 328 of Vicious Saint
“Mike kept saying how my drawings were inspirational, and how he could picture my comics on storefront shelves, maybe even as graphic novels.” Squealing, I add, “Freaking graphic novels, Letterman! Holy shit.” Carlo once again gets cut off switching lanes, so I pause briefly until he stops cursing. “He even joked about the name of my superhero, whichno, I will not be giving you credit for. Maybe just an honorable mention.” A thought hits me, so I bid farewell to the recording, “Okay… the rest I wanna tell you in person. Over some Chocolate Therapy and your nasty Butter Pecan ice cream. Maybe tacos even though it’s a questionable mix. You better call me the second that game is over, fucker, or else.”
Hanging up the phone, I toss it onto the seat next to me and lean over to the front seat, flashing Carlo a bright smile.
“I need a favor from my favorite sweet and scary mobster.”
The way Carlo calls out for God tells me he already hates what I have to say, which I’m pretty proud of given he usually has to take a beat for interpretations. “Che cos’è?”
I explain how I need him to make a quick stop at the store to grab some groceries, where he, in turn, argues for me to make a list for him to go when we get back to Riverside.
“No, I wanna start cooking before Saint gets done.”
“Your stepfather, he secure this route,signorina, I was told only here and back.”
“Oh, c’mon. We’re nowhere near enemy stomping grounds.”
This time, Carlo snags all the beats, so I hike a thumb behind me to Vic’s friendly security tailing us. “We have Jerome and the quiet new guy Charlie…or whatever his name is.”
Who barely even looked at me this morning when I greeted him.
Jerk, but whatever. I’m never friendly before ten.
Carlo may not completely understand what I’m saying, but he gets enough of the jist to blow out a tired breath.
“I don’t think it’s-ehgood idea,principessa.”
Princess? Now that’s offensive.
“Hey!” I poke his arm. “You’re not allowed to give me new pet names when I finally likesignorina.”
He smirks but insists again to take me home.
“Please, Carlo. If I can’t get the truth out of you guys, at least let me have a little freedom to grocery shop.”
Carlo looks as though he wants to argue further but decides to grant me my wish. And I truly love him for it.
“Okay, okay. Because I am-ehso proud of you, I do it.”
I hit him with a loud smooch to his cheek. “Who are you kiddin’? We both know it’s because you’re a sucker for me.”
It took two phone calls, a text to Vic, and a complicated reroute before we finally ended up inside the smallest grocery store I’ve ever seen.
In the most secluded area of Manhattan I’ve ever been in.
I’m not in the business of complaining, though, because they carry my favorite ice cream.
Can’t say the same for Saint’s.
I’ve got the only two pints of Ben and Jerry’s left balancing in my hands, one Rocky Road, the other Cherry Garcia, unsure of which Saint will prefer.
I spin around, expecting Carlo, but instead am met with Jerome and New Guy scanning the store.
“Where’s Carlo?” I ask Jerome, not bothering with the other one.
“Bathroom,” he responds, still scanning.
“Okay, you’re up, then, Jerome. I need some advice.”
Not even a glance my way, but I don’t care. “Which ice cream do you think a horny star quarterback would prefer? One with nuts or one with cherries?”
