Page 38 of Power
“Stuart, I need to stop at Willie Boy’s.”
“I’ll join you.” Stuart glanced in the rearview mirror, and Luciano replied with a nod.
Stuart wasn’t just his driver, he was Luciano’s security detail.
En route to Old Town, Alexandria, Luciano asked, “How’s your sister?”
“Much better,” Stuart replied. “Changing her doc at the hospital made a difference. Thank you for taking care of that.”
“Keep me posted on her health,” Luciano said. “I’ll arrange for in-home nursing care once she’s discharged.”
“Sir, you don’t?—”
“Stuart, let me do this for your family. Take off any time you need.”
Luciano’s phone buzzed with another text from Willie Boy.
Are you coming ????
On my way
He was doing this to honor his uncle. Unfortunately, Willie Boy didn’t know the difference between his ass and his elbow, but he was family. Family mattered to a Santini.
Stuart parked at Willie Boy’s restaurant in Old Town. The exterior looked like hell, but Willie Boy had told Luciano to butt out, so he had. Inside, Luciano glanced around. Willie Boy hadn’t done a damn thing to update the eatery. It was like stepping back in time thirty years. The place needed a complete overhaul. But the food was good, so customers kept coming back.
Luciano slid his sunglasses into his pocket. Stuart kept his on.
The hostess, beamed at them. “Hello, Luciano. Hi, Stuart.”
“Ma’am,” Stuart said.
“How’ve you been, Tara?” Luciano asked.
“No complaints.” She led them through the busy neighborhood restaurant, stopping in front of a closed door in the back.
Knock-knock.
“Yeah,” Willie Boy called out.
Tara opened the door. “Your cousin and his bodyguard.”
Luciano and Stuart entered. The stench of lager and cheese was undeniably the trademark odor of Willie Boy’s private room. The low-lit space consisted of four round tables and severalframed family photos hanging on the walls. At the back, a swinging door separated the kitchen.
Willie Boy and another man were seated at one of the tables. His cousin glanced over, then grinned. After pushing out of the chair, he swung his arms wide. “There he is!”
Luciano kissed both his cousin’s cheeks, then patted his face. “You look like crap, Willie Boy.”
“Jeez. That’s how you greet me?”
Thirty-four-year-old Willie Boy stood at five-nine. Dark circles shadowed his eyes. His stomach hung over his belt, but his Santini Original suit jacket hid the flab. Though Willie Boy didn’t care about clothes, Luciano made sure his cousin dressed like a Santini. Willie Boy’s dark wavy hair had grown to his jawline, and he tucked both sides behind his ears. He had a strong Italian nose, a mouthful of crooked teeth, and diamond studs in his ears.
“Thanks for showing up,” Willie Boy said before acknowledging Stuart. “How you doin’ Mr. Fletcher?”
“Good, sir.”
Willie Boy smiled. “Mr. Fletcher calls me sir. I like him.” Then, he turned toward the man seated at the table. “This is Dante.”
The man stood, extended his hand. “Mr. Santini.” They shook. As Dante extended his hand to Stuart, Stuart crossed his arms.
