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Authors: C. Clark Criscuolo

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“Washington, D.C., boarding on track thirty-nine.” The announcement blared out rhythmically and echoed around the terminal. She stayed there for three more calls and then slowly stood up. No, she should get back to Michigan as fast as possible and wait for him there. That would be the smart thing. That would be the thing Michael would want her to do.

She picked up her suitcase. As she reached down for her big case, she saw a familiar hand reach down and take the handle. She straightened up.

“I don't know if I can do it, but … you want a roommate in Michigan?” he asked.

She gazed at him and smiled widely.

“I won't screw around on you. I'll try and be good and honest, Lisa—”

She took his arm and they walked through the arch onto the dark platform.

“What happened?”

“I'll explain it on the train,” he said quickly, and they walked down toward the first car.

“Is Tony—”

“I think he'll be okay,” Michael said, and they both stepped onto the train.

They sat down quickly. She grabbed him so hard that he shook and she gave him another long, hard kiss. She felt him shaking. When she stopped kissing him, she watched him fall back against the seat, trying to catch his breath. She liked that. She liked watching him shake.

EPILOGUE

Tony pulled the car up to the American Airlines Terminal at Newark. He turned up the wipers as snow began falling harder against the windshield. He pulled his arm up to wipe the steam from the window and a twinge in his shoulder started.

“So after the viewing, I made reservations at Florio's,” Angela was saying as he rotated his shoulder.

“Florio's? I hate that place. What's wrong wid Gargiulio's out in the Bay?”

“You listen to me, Tony Mac. I made them reservations where I want to eat. We always gotta go out to the Bay, and in this snow I don't wanna get stuck.”

“Why, your mother's got the kids, fahcrissakes. I don't see what the difference is.”

“I don't wanna go way the hell out—”

Tony tuned out Angela's voice as the terminal doors started opening. Passengers from the Detroit flight began pouring out and Tony's eyes scanned the platform. His shoulder twinged again, and it reminded him of that day in SoHo. His eyes fell on his cousin Michael, walking through the doors, carrying two suitcases. Beside him was Michigan, carrying their newborn son.

“And the antipast' at Gargiulio's is always rubbery and they never give you enough—”

“It's them,” Tony said, and honked the horn as his cousin began looking around.

Michael stood on the platform and his eyes were drawn to the white Lincoln. Even before the door opened, he knew it was Tony and Angela. It was just as he'd imagined, right before the plane landed. The snow, the big white car, and Michael realized that even though it had been only five years, he and Lisa were at least a lifetime from their lives here in New York.

“Hey. Hey, Mikey,” Tony said, getting out of the car. He took the bags from him, and Michael noticed a limp as he walked around to the trunk.

“Get that baby outta the snow!” Angela ordered Lisa.

“Yes, honey, get him into the car,” Michael added, opening the back door for them.

“So, when did Solly die?” Michael asked as Tony made room in the trunk.

“Thursday night. He had a heart attack, joggin',” Tony added, and Michael sensed amusement at that.

“The word is, he had some woman on the side makin' him do all that shit,” he said, lowering his voice, his eyes looking at the car. “So how are things in Detroit? There much accountin' work up there?” Tony asked loudly, and slammed down the trunk hood.

“I'm pretty busy.”

“Good, it's good to stay busy. Aayy, your mother's been talkin' and talkin' about your big house up there since she got back from the baby being born,” Tony said, and patted him on the back.

“I guess it all worked out, huh, Mikey?” Tony said, then grimaced at the back of Angela's head, and Michael heard a
jeez
under Tony's breath. Tony opened the door for him.

“Yeah, I guess, Tony.”

“But you know, Mikey, I been thinkin'.” Michael braced himself. “What with Solly gone, I got pull.… Maybe youse don't have to stay up there in that cold place. You know, I could take care of youse right here, just like I always done for my little cousin.”

“I'll think about it, Tony.” Michael smiled to himself, and shuddered.

Another favor from Tony. All he needed, another favor.

WISEGUYS IN LOVE.
Copyright © 1993 by C. Clark Criscuolo. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. For information, address St. Martin's Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.

eBooks may be purchased for business or promotional use. For information on bulk purchases, please contact Macmillan Corporate and Premium Sales Department by writing to [email protected].

First edition: July 1993

eISBN 9781466889460

First eBook edition: December 2014

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