Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 121578 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 608(@200wpm)___ 486(@250wpm)___ 405(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121578 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 608(@200wpm)___ 486(@250wpm)___ 405(@300wpm)
“Does she now?” I side-eye my sister again.
“All good stuff.” Erin touches my arm. “Promise.”
“Don’t tell him that,” Jezzie warns. “It’ll go to his head.”
More like stop my heart from the sheer fucking shock.
Jezzie approaches the counter with Erin, but I hang back and take in the place. Small, but clean. Narrow. Simple. Two red vinyl booths by the window, each big enough to hold about four people. Two smaller tables against the wall to my right and a counter with four barstools on the left. Assuming the counter is for people picking up their own slices, at most Jezzie’ll be waiting on four tables? Six if she’s supposed to cover the two outside.
Erin and Jezzie have moved to the far end of the counter, excitedly gabbing.
Beyond the counter, huge steel ovens and a long, shiny silver prep station take up most of the space. A big, broad-shouldered man slides a pie from a large wooden pizza paddle into the oven. The oven door clangs shut, and he makes his way to the register. A worn black T-shirt with Luigi’s Slice scrawled across the front stretches over his large frame.
“How can I help you, sir?” he asks with a tired but polite expression fixed firmly on his face.
“Uncle Luigi.” Erin hurries to his side. “This is J-bird’s brother.”
A more genuine smile lifts his cheeks. He holds out his hand. “Nice to meet you.”
I shake his hand—firm but polite grip. Doesn’t try to impress me with how strong he is. “You too.” I shift my gaze to my sister. “Jezzie says you offered her a job?”
“Sure did.” He tilts his head toward his niece. “She’s here with Erin all the time, anyway. Might as well earn a few bucks, right?” he laughs. “Seriously, though. My last part-timer got married and left. So it’s just Erin and me, and another guy who works the mornings. We get busy in the afternoons and weekends. Mostly a carry-out joint.” He nods to the tables. “But we get a few dine-ins.”
“So, she won’t be making deliveries or anything?” I ask.
“Nope. Don’t deliver. Most of our customers are from the college. They can walk their lazy asses down here. It’ll do ‘em good to get some fresh air.”
“Can’t argue with that.” I like him already. Seems straightforward, no bullshit.
He eyes me up and down, his gaze lingering on the patches on the front of my cut. “You ride?”
“Hell yeah. You?”
“Used to. I got an old ’95 Dyna Wide Glide that’s been sittin’ in my garage for years. Haven’t had the time to fix it up. Can’t seem to part with it, though.”
“Don’t. That’s a great cruising bike. Reliable engine. Easy to modify.”
“It’s no fire-breathing powerhouse but it always got my big ass around. Never let me down or saw a trailer when I was running it.”
“Sounds like you miss it. Gotta make some time to ride the wind.”
“Yeah, I definitely wanna get back to it.” He waves his hand over the glass display case covering the middle of the counter. “Whatta you having?”
I eye the pans of various pizzas. “Two pepperoni slices.” I nudge Jezzie. “What do you want?”
“Cheese.”
Luigi grabs our slices and tosses them in the oven, then nods at Jezzie and points to the cooler in the corner. “Grab whatever sodas you want.”
I slide down to the register, but Luigi shakes his head. “Family doesn’t pay.”
He’s not going to keep Jezzie employed for long with that policy. “Thanks.” I drop the twenty in my hand into the tip jar and wait for Luigi to return with the warmed pizza.
Jezzie chooses the booth in the corner and starts tearing the crust off of her pizza as soon as we sit down.
“What do you think?” she asks as she stuffs small bits of golden-brown dough in her mouth.
“I haven’t tried it yet.” I pick up my slice, holding it in the air.
She rolls her eyes. “You know what I mean,” she says in a hushed voice, her gaze darting to the kitchen and back to me.
“Nice place. Small. You sure he’s got enough business to keep you employed?”
“I told you it’s not a lot of hours.” She glances around. “And yeah, believe it or not between five and seven this place is jam-packed.”
“All right.” I take a bite, savoring the hefty amount of gooey cheese, spicy pepperoni, thin layer of sauce, and extra-crispy crust. “It’s good,” I mumble. “Can see why they’re busy.”
We eat in silence. The occasional clatter from the kitchen or Luigi and Erin’s conversation filling the space. Every now and then, I flick my gaze toward the door.
A group of four college-age guys shuffles in, their loud voices competing with each other as they argue about something.
“Settle down.” Luigi’s voice rumbles from behind the counter, silencing the kids. Not a request. A warning.
They immediately dial it back, bantering with him for a few minutes before finally placing their orders.