Chapter 7

He had two full days leading to their date to work himself up to a nervous wreck. But when she answered the door Wednesday evening, and he saw her smiling face, he instantly felt calm and at ease.

“Hey,” she greeted him, then stepped aside. “My dad wants to meet you.”

Standing behind Cyn was a middle-aged man in a loose polo shirt and cargo shorts. He stepped forward and shook Alex’s hand. “So, this is the gentleman who helped you paint your room?”

“Yes,” Cyn told him. “Dad, this is Alex.”

As they shook hands, Alex said, “It’s very nice to meet you, sir.”

“Great to meet you, too. Do you know what movie you’ll be seeing? I’ve heard that there are a few good ones out right now,” Cyn’s father asked, letting go of Alex’s hand.

Alex looked at Cyn, then told him, “I was going to let Cyn decide.”

Cyn’s dad put a strong hand on his daughter’s shoulder and laughed. “Alex, you learn quickly.” He kissed the top of Cyn’s head. “Now, you kids have fun tonight.”

“We will, dad,” Cyn said leaning a little against her father with obvious love and respect.

“What time would you like me to bring her home, sir?” Alex asked.

Her father smiled. “Cyn doesn’t have a curfew. Whatever’s good for you guys.”

When they were in Alex’s car and pulling out of the driveway, Alex had to ask, “No curfew and ‘whatever’s good?’”

“Oh, they trust me,” Cyn stated. “I can do pretty much whatever I want. I guess my ‘level-headed past’ speaks for itself. Or so my mom always says. I’m never home late anyway. So, where are we going?”

“Do you like Italian food?”

“Alex, I like all food!”

“Okay. Then La Brama di Cibo it is.”

“Sounds good to me.”

When they arrived at the restaurant, there was a line out the door. “Look at that line,” Cyn complained. “You know, we can go somewhere else.”

Alex gave her a mysterious smile. “No. We’re good.” Cyn shrugged and got out of the car. Alex led her past the couple dozen people in line and walked right up to the front desk. “Is Signore Paffuto available?”

The stuffy man in a heavily starched tuxedo looked down his nose at Alex and Cyn. “May I ask what your name is?”

“Just tell him that it’s The Bullet’s son.”

The host picked up a phone, punched in three numbers, mumbled a few words, carefully replaced the handset back into its cradle, then he gave them both a warm smile and told Alex, “If you wouldn’t mind waiting about five minutes, I will have a table ready for you and your lady friend, sir.”

“That would be great. Thank you so much,” Alex responded.

“It is our pleasure, sir.”

As Cyn and Alex stepped to the side to wait, Cyn, consumed with curiosity, leaned towards Alex and whispered. “Alex, be honest with me. Exactly who is your dad?”