"Great. Sure."
More salad, wolfed down.
Von said, "You are one hungry son of a bitch." That eerie giggle.
"Yeah, like I said." Chewing, swallowing, trying not to puke. And a goddamn hamburger on its way.
Nick eased the list into his jeans pocket.
And that was when he saw the figure outside.
A guy, in a suit, one that didn't fit so well. Gray. Blue shirt, button-down collar and a tie. Crew cut. He was walking past the restaurant, looking in, a neutral expression on his face. He stopped, squinted and leaned forward, peering through the window.
No... oh, no... Please.
Nick stared down at his salad.
Another plea.
Another prayer.
It wasn't answered.
The door to the restaurant opened and closed and he felt, as much as heard, the big man make his way to the booth. Coming straight for them.
Shit.
Didn't matter if Nick glanced at the newcomer or not; he was making a beeline for the two men. He decided it was probably better to glance his way--it'd look less guilty. He did this now and studied the face, keeping his own as emotionless as possible. He couldn't summon the name. Not that it mattered. He knew what the guy did for a living.
"Well, if it ain't my old buddy, Nick Carelli."
He nodded.
Von looked him over.
"The hell you up to, Nick? They let your ass outa the system, did they? What happened? You stopped giving guards blow jobs with those pretty little lips of yours."
Von swallowed his immense chew of salad and said, "Fuck off, asshole. We're--"
The gold NYPD shield stopped about a foot from Von's face. "Do what?"
Von, who would face a mandatory year in prison for the gun, even if he had no priors, shut up and looked back to his salad. "Sorry, man, I didn't know. You're just busting his chops. Whataya mean, let him outa the system?"
Von would know, of course. He just wanted to inflate his innocence preserver.
But Detective Vince Kall--Nick got the name--turned away from Von to his prey of choice. "So you didn't answer me. What're you doing here, Nicky Boy?"
"Come on, Vince. Give me a break--"
"Or I could give you a third chance to answer the question."
"Having dinner with a friend."
"Your PO know about it?"
Nick shrugged. "If he asks I'll tell him whatever he wants to know. I always do. It's just dinner. Why're you busting my ass?"
"You reconnecting with your friends?"