Anyone But You (9 page)

“I’m glad you’re here, too,” I whispered at last.

He responded, not with a word, but with a kiss. That moment I’d read about and fantasized about, but never ever actually experienced until now. Though one could argue that being a rookie precluded me from objectively describing my first romantic foray with a boy, let me only say this: If there existed some universal ledger ranking the most incomparably sublime instances of liplock in the history of all space and time, our kiss would have at least cracked the top twenty. I felt like I was falling into the most beautiful night sky I’d ever seen, filled with galaxy after galaxy of stars; an infinite series of fantastic possibilities. Everything else fell away for those few eternal moments. It was just the two of us as the whole world ceased to exist. And then it all came crashing down. Literally.

Bodies careened into our booth, and, ripped from their moorings, the curtains sheltering us from the dance floor tumbled to the floor. Just like that, the outside world came rushing back in, accompanied by sounds of outraged shouting.

“He’s a Monte!” roared my cousin Ty, as he regained his balance and reached for the collar of a blond guy in a faux tuxedo T-shirt and black jeans. “Stop him!”

The boy, barely evading Ty’s grasp, sprinted down the mezzanine steps and toward the front entrance of the restaurant, knocking over several bystanders who stood in his way. Frankie and Enzo had tackled someone else, and the two of them looked like they were about to start throwing punches when suddenly my father was on stage and shouting into the microphone.

“Frankie, Enzo, stop it.
Now!
” His voice was as angry as I’d ever heard it, ricocheting into the far corners of the room, every syllable punctuated by the buzz of feedback from the mic gripped tightly in his fist. Mario and Chef each grabbed a cousin by the arm, pulling them away from the interloper who stood, and, tucking in a rumpled shirt, stumbled toward the exit.

“But, Uncle Benji, don’t you understand? They’re Montes,” Frankie said. He attempted, fruitlessly, to lunge after the departing “guests,” but Chef held him fast.

“They’re leaving now, see?” My father pointed toward the door where indeed the two boys had just vanished. The handsome stranger gave my hand a quick, reassuring squeeze before letting go and slipping out of our booth. My twin cousins, Enzo and Frankie, continued to argue with my father as I watched my unexpected paramour walk with what looked like effortless nonchalance to follow his friends and fellow party crashers.

“They shouldn’t be here,” Ty chimed in, going to stand in solidarity alongside his brothers.

“This is Gigi’s party,” said my dad, “and I won’t let anyone ruin it. Not the Montes, and certainly not the three of you. Where
is
Gigi?” Dad craned his head around until he spotted me over his shoulder, sitting alone in the Monroe booth. Only I wasn’t looking at my dad. Instead, my eyes were still trained on the first boy I’d ever kissed as he crossed the threshold of our restaurant. He turned and flashed me a heart-meltingly adorable grin. I smiled back, but as I turned away, my glance landed on my cousin Ty, who having witnessed this exchange, shouted epithets after the intruders like an angry god hurling down an ancient curse. The wooden doors of Cap’s entrance slammed shut on the face I now adored, and it suddenly hit me—I didn’t even know his name.

• • •

The subsequent departure of the Beresdorfers wasn’t nearly as distressing to me. But maybe it should have been. Still reveling in the afterglow of my illicit liaison, I wasn’t aware of this second commotion underway until I saw my parents fluttering around Perry’s father, attempting to coax him into staying.

“This was trivial, really,” my dad assured his new investor. “Just a couple of punk kids, but clearly no harm was done.”

“I don’t know, Ben, this is looking like more trouble than I initially signed up for. If you can’t keep the rats away from the cheese on tonight of all nights, I’d hate to think about what other ‘oversights’ might occur.”

“Rich, I can assure you, Cap’s is a safe investment.” My mother looked humiliated to have our financial dirty laundry hanging out for every guest at the party.

“I’m starting to feel like you promised me one bill of goods but sold me another,” said Mr. Beresdorfer, glancing at me, for some reason.

“Not at all, Rich! Please … we shook hands on this.”

“Sorry, Ben, but I’ve really got to rethink this thing.”

As he and his dad said their uncomfortable goodbyes, Perry avoided eye contact with me; whether from embarrassment or anger, I couldn’t be sure. Sensing the somber turn the event had taken, other party guests had begun to filter out when I felt a tap on my shoulder. It was Carmen, who whispered in my ear.

“There’s a wanton shade of pink in your cheeks, my dear. Could it be from more than just dancing?”

Her insight left me momentarily speechless. Before I could respond, Mario came striding over, precise and purposeful, as always.

“If I may have a word. Your cousins are asking for you,” he explained.

“And you’re their emissary?”

“Your father booted them from the dining room until all the guests are gone. They’re in the kitchen.”

I was sure they were going to apologize for their disruptive behavior earlier, and I was ready to forgive them. I had more important things on my mind, after all. Namely, trying to figure out who in the heck it was that I’d just kissed. So what if he was friends with one of the Monte boys—or, most likely, worked at their restaurant? He could always quit. But that was assuming I’d even see him again. I couldn’t believe my brain was leaping ahead to any presumptions where he was concerned. Practically speaking, my brief association with him made him only slightly more than a figment of my imagination. And yet he was consuming an inordinate amount of my brain—and my heart.

“How long have you been sneaking around with him?” Ty demanded to know when I entered the kitchen. He and his younger brothers were staring me down as if I’d just called their basketball idol, Michael Jordan, an “overrated hack.”

“I haven’t been ‘sneaking around’ with anybody. If you mean that guy I was—”

“He
means
Roman Monte,” Enzo clarified. I gasped and cupped the palm of my hand over my mouth.

“Who does he think he is? Coming in here like he owns the place,” Frankie mumbled angrily. “And I hope you don’t think you’re special to him—he’s dated and discarded half the girls on this side of Taylor Street! He’s just using you.”

“But, I didn’t ….” I was frankly too dumbfounded to complete my thoughts.
Roman Monte?
Holy crap. The guy of my dreams was Roman Monte?

“You
can’t
and you
won’t
,” Ty corrected me, looking severely ticked. “Whatever is going on between the two of you—”

“Nothing’s going on.”

“Yeah, right,” Enzo scoffed. He still had his necktie around his forehead and thus looked like a cross between a mercenary and a frat boy in training.

“Nothing’s going on,” Ty said pointedly, “and
nothing
ever will. Do you understand?”

“It’s none of your business,” I said, sulking.

“None of my business? Gigi, this is
all
of our business! This is about Cap’s! This is about our family! Do you even give a damn about that?”

“Hey, ease up on her.” Chef stepped forward, grabbing Ty by the shoulders, but my cousin shrugged him off, never taking his eyes off mine.

“I’m telling you, Gigi—stay away from him. If I have to talk to
him
about it, well … there won’t be much ‘talking’ happening. And that will be on
you
.”

“You could right-hook that slime ball into next year, T-Bone,” Frankie said, urging on his big brother as if he was vying for a ringside seat.

“God,” said Ty, shaking his head in disgust, “if Uncle Benji found out about this, he would go ballistic.”

“He doesn’t need to know,” I stammered, “because there’s nothing to know.”

“I still say we go after them,” Enzo chimed in. “Three of them, three of us? We could take ’em, easy. I’m ready to go clean some Monte clocks—how about you two?”

“The only thing you boys are cleaning up is the dining room,” said Aunt Val, who’d entered the kitchen as Enzo made these threats. “Now get out there and help your aunt and uncle before I drag you all out by your ears.”

The boys were cowed into submission by the only person who had any kind of real power over them: their mother. As my cousins moped their way through the swinging kitchen door, she and I followed them. My aunt tossed her arm lovingly over my shoulders.

“What a wonderful party, Gigi!” she exclaimed. “Was it everything you’d ever dreamed of?”

“Yes,” I answered truthfully. And no, I thought to myself. Sure, I’d met the boy who was most likely going to haunt both my dreams and my every waking hour, but my cousins had all but promised to skin him alive if I ever saw him again. Not exactly an auspicious start to my sixteenth year.

“H
E CALLED YOU ‘DIRTY DAGO SCUM?’”

“It wasn’t the most favorable of introductions.”

“Come on, Benny. What did you expect?”

“I didn’t expect him to make me feel like a flayed side of beef.”

“Yeah, well, he caught you throwing rocks at his daughter’s window after midnight. You’re damn lucky he didn’t call the cops.”

“
I
should have called the cops after the way he tried to rough me up. Why are you busting my chops about this, anyway?” I didn’t answer him but just continued to unpack a crate filled with cans of imported San Marzano tomatoes, which I’d been stacking in the storeroom. In the month since our shop opened, business had been booming. The folks in this part of town might not have deemed us “white enough” to date their daughters, but they were catching on to the fact that our pizza was a small slice of heaven. Benny had been right about choosing this neighborhood. I could already see that in a few more months we’d be making money hand over fist. But I wasn’t about to admit that aloud. I could barely stand to look at him. We spent thirteen-hour days together, punching and tossing the dough, ladling it with marinara, and scattering it with three fistfuls of shredded mozzarella and assorted toppings with assembly-line efficiency. Using the wooden-handled peel, we’d slide the pies from the counter into the gaping, fiery mouth of Bessie, our wood-fired oven that had been custom-built, brick by brick, to our specifications. I spent most of those hours in the kitchen steaming. Not because it was as hot as the gates of hell in front of that oven, but because I had yet to get over the fact that Benny was dating the girl who was supposed to have been meant for me.

“What’s gotten into you, Nick?” Benny finally asked me, point blank.

“It’s ten-thirty,” I said, avoiding his question as I hauled a twenty-pound sack of flour from the stockroom and heaved it onto the counter in the kitchen. “The lunchtime crowd is going to be in soon, and we don’t even have the dough mixed. Are you going to help or not?”

“Of
course
I’m going to help. Are you implying that I’m not pulling my weight around here? Because I’m pretty sure my knuckles are just as singed as yours are.”

“Never mind. Just get Bessie fired up and let’s get to work.”

“Nicky—we’re doing
good
,” he said with a conciliatory smile. “This place is everything we wanted it to be. We’re on our way! You really should try to enjoy that fact for a second.”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves just yet,” I said, crossly.

“Hey, knock it off. You’re not going to do this to us,” he said, folding his arms resolutely over his chest.

“Do what?”

“Bust our balloon. Look at us, Nick! We’re living the dream! We’ve got the business now, and I’ve got Estelle, and it’s everything I’ve ever—” he stopped short when he heard my sarcastic huff. “What’s your problem with Estelle?”

“I’ve got no problem with
Estelle
,” I answered, truthfully. “She’s perfect, just like you always go on and on about.”

“I’m not sure I like your tone, old sport.” Benny eyed me sternly. I had no intention of ever telling him that the girl of his dreams was the girl from the World’s Fair. We weren’t twelve years old anymore, and trying to call “firsties” on her would have demeaned all three of us. The practical side of me kept trying to tell myself that I was simply hung up on a fantasy from my childhood. I’d known her for a mere five minutes that day; she was never
mine
to begin with. It was ridiculous to feel so betrayed—Benny had no idea, after all—but my heart didn’t seem to want to fall in line with the edicts of my common sense. My friend led a charmed life, and Stella was just one more example. I was sick and tired of his bread always landing buttered side up.

“If you’ve got something to say to me, be a man and say it,” Benny ordered. The long work hours and very little sleep we’d been getting in recent months didn’t augur well for the rest of this conversation.

“You just have to have it all, don’t you?” My rhetorical question caused Benny’s brow to furrow in confusion.

“I don’t even know what that means. We split this business fifty-fifty, and if it’s a girl you want—because it’s starting to sound like you’re jealous—then I’ve got news for you: Half the planet is covered with ’em. All you’ve got to do is go talk to one. Or do I have to do that for you, too?”

“Why not? You’re good enough at it, after all,” I said. “You flirt with every girl under the age of thirty who shows up at the counter, all while keeping your prized Stella on hold in case you finally decide to narrow the field to just one.”

“In case? Her name’s
Estelle
, and I am going to marry her, Nick. End of story. And if you think I’m flirting with our customers, well, that’s all part of running a business. Just because I make eye contact with people doesn’t mean I’m trying to make time with them. A little personality is all part of making a profit. You don’t seem to mind when we empty out the till each night.”

“I don’t want to argue about this,” I said, grabbing a crowbar to break down the crate I just unpacked. “You’re right. We’re on a roll here, and I just want to concentrate on making sure it stays that way. I hope it works out for you and your lady friend. I hope your families can somehow accept this, and the two of you can ride off into the sunset and have lots of little
bambinos
running around someday. Knowing you like I do, I’m sure it’ll all work out.”