Gio smirked. “Close, but no. I'm Gio fucking Mancini.”
Bandana's eyes widened, and he cackled. “For real? You the big man's son? You better break out some ID on that shit, homie. I mean, any jive-ass, wop-lookin' cracker can come out to the 'hood an' name-drop, know what I'm sayin'?”
Gio nodded, flipping his ID out of his wallet and displaying it for him. Bandana looked it over and he laughed again, clapping his hands. “Yo, check it!” he called out to the other thugs on the corner. “We got motherfuckin' Al Pacino up in here tonight!”
“Damn right you do. So the next time I come rolling up to this shitheap, I expect you to show me the proper fucking respect. Got it? And make sure you keep your gang signs and crap away from that blue house.”
“Sure thing, homes,” Bandana said, backing off. “You got it.”
The front door of Carolyn's house opened and she stepped out wearing a black cocktail dress and stiletto heels. A tiny purse hung from her arm.
Once they saw her, the men on the corner started whistling and catcalling.
“Pipe down, assholes!” Gio snapped.
“What was all that about?” Carolyn asked, walking to the car. “You know those guys?”
“No, but they damn sure know me,” Gio chortled, eyeing her. “Wow, you look foxy as hell tonight.”
“Thanks,” Carolyn said. Gio leaned in to kiss her on the mouth, but she turned her head away at the last second and his lips connected with her cheek instead.
“Remember what I said,” Carolyn told him sternly. “This is not a date. We're just celebrating as friends and business associates.”
“We'll see,” Gio replied, opening the passenger's-side door for her.
Chapter 10
Gio
As Gio drove, he said, “We gotta move you out of that hole you're living in.”
“I'm sorry you don't approve of where I live,” Carolyn answered, “but it's what I can afford so far, and it suits me.”
“What, that fucking ghetto?” Gio exclaimed. “Come on, I'm not letting my lawyer live in a roach trap like that, it's embarrassing. I'll set you up someplace nice.”
“That's a very kind offer,” she conceded. “But it's not necessary. I'm fine where I am, truly.”
“At least think it over,” Gio insisted. He made a mental note to look into some cute apartments over the next day or two, so he could rent one for her as a surprise. She might pretend she didn't like the idea, but once he handed over the keys, he knew she'd be thrilled.
“And hey, speaking of thinking things over, I got a few ideas about the restaurant that I want to run past you,” he continued.
“More promotional ideas?” Carolyn guessed.
“Yeah, kinda. See, I've been reading all the reviews and stuff about us, and they're all really good, right? Except almost every one keeps hinting at how it's run by the mob, what with who my dad is and everything like that.”
“Yes, I've noticed that too. It's nothing to worry about, though. It was bound to happen, and the Feds would definitely be scoping the place out even without those articles, so I doubt it'll attract any more attention than you'd already have on you.”
“That's just it, though,” Gio said. “I'm thinking as long as the whole gangster rep is kind of tied to the place anyway and there's nothing we can do about that, why not, y'know, play it up even more?”
Carolyn raised an eyebrow. “Gio, I told you, this place has to stay clean or...”
“No, no, nothing like that,” Gio said, waving her concerns off dismissively. “I mean we turn it into a kind of big joke, right? Like, maybe we change up the sign and some of the decorations to goof on the mafia thing. Re-name a bunch of stuff on the menu so we've got The Goodfellas Roll, or The John Gotti. We could even change the name of the place, maybe, to something like 'Sleeping With the Fishes.'”
“I'm not sure what all that would accomplish,” Carolyn said. She was looking at him in amused disbelief, like he'd just told her he wanted to quit the mob and sell Amway for a living.
“For starters, tourists go nuts for all that cornball Chicago gangster crap,” Gio explained. “We could even find a way to partner up with one of those underworld tours, so they steer business our way. Plus, it's our way of coming right out and saying, 'Okay, yeah, you know who my father is, and I know you know, so what's the big fucking deal?' It takes the whole sinister element out of it and makes it more fun, so people can go back to the folks at home and brag that a suspected mobster brought their food out to them. They'd get a real kick out of it.”