Tuesday at Satriale's the bell did its small flat sound at three minutes past nine.
Tony was at the round table in the back with Silvio and a cup of coffee that was already past the steam stage. He saw Vinnie come in. Lifted his chin the quarter inch. Did not wave him over. Vinnie got coffee and a sfogliatella from the kid at the counter and a roll for Tommy that he passed to Tommy without breaking stride and went back to Tony's table and sat down.
"Marchetti."
"Tony. Sil."
"You're around a lot lately."
"Business is good."
"That's what they say."
Tony tore a corner off a bagel. Did not eat it. Set it on the wax paper.
Two tables back, Tommy was reading the Star-Ledger business section with his coffee in both hands like a man who'd come in for the racing form and accidentally found himself reading about commodity futures. Vinnie did not look at him. Silvio looked at him once and looked back.
"How's the lot," Tony said.
"Concrete cured Friday."
"You walked it?"
"Tuesday morning. The foreman's bringing in framers next week."
"Framers next week."
"Next week."
Tony nodded slowly. Picked up the corner of the bagel he had torn. Ate it.
"You hear from anybody you don't usually hear from?"
The pause Vinnie did before answering was the pause Vinnie did. He took a sip of the coffee. He set it down.
"Couple guys called about scrap rates."
"That's not what I meant."
"I know what you meant, Tony."
The two of them looked at each other across the table. Silvio had his glasses on, which meant Silvio was choosing to be an administrative presence at a personal conversation, which was its own kind of cover.
Tony took another piece of the bagel.
"You know what I appreciate about you, Vinnie."
"What."
"You don't tell me things you think I want to hear. Even when I'd like to hear them."
"I'd like to hear me say them too."
"But you don't."
"No."
"Why not."
"Because they wouldn't be true."
Tony grinned the small grin. Pushed the bagel toward Vinnie. Vinnie took a piece. They ate bagel for thirty seconds.
"Stay around," Tony said.
"I'll stay around."
"That's all I'm asking."
"I know."
Wednesday Vinnie was at the JC waste yard for most of the day. He walked the new fence with Conte. He walked the line of trucks. He stood in the office that smelled like the new paneling that no longer smelled new, and he signed forms a man only signed when he wasn't planning to be elsewhere.
Wednesday evening he was at the Bing. He did not stay long. He had a drink at the back booth. Christopher came in with Adriana, who was bringing him soup in a thermos because he was still on the soft diet, and Christopher saw Vinnie and made a face like a man who'd been hoping to see a face. They shook hands. Adriana said thank you again for the basket. Vinnie said it was nothing. Christopher said it wasn't nothing.
Vinnie left at nine.
Thursday morning the joint delivery went off at the docks in Port Newark.
It was the kind of delivery that wouldn't have been on any list. Twelve thousand dollars' worth of legitimate cargo on the manifest, three thousand dollars' worth that was on a separate piece of paper Silvio kept in his desk drawer. Two trucks: one of Silvio's, one of Marchetti's. The Marchetti truck was driven by a man named DiNardo who had been driving a truck for somebody in this family since 1971 and had never once filed paper that needed correcting. The delivery moved out of the docks at six. It was in the warehouse in Bloomfield at seven-thirty. The receipt was signed by Carlo. The whole thing took ninety minutes including coffee at the gate.
Silvio called Vinnie at the office at eight-fifteen.
"Clean."
"Glad to hear it."
"DiNardo is a useful man."
"He is."
"T's gonna hear about it by noon."
"All right."
Silvio paused.
"Friday night at the Bing. Eight."
"I'll be there."
"Bring an appetite."
He hung up.
Friday at five past eight the back booth at the Bing had Tony in it, alone, with two short glasses on the table — one full, one empty — and a paper plate with half a sandwich on it. Pussy was at the bar making conversation with Brian. Christopher was at a high-top by the stage with a man Vinnie didn't recognize and a younger man who looked like Christopher's idea of an intern. The music was low.
Tony saw Vinnie come in. Lifted his chin. Pushed the empty glass to the far side of the table with the back of two fingers. Brian came over and refilled it from the bottle of red without being asked.
"Marchetti."
"Tony."
"Sit."
Vinnie sat.
Brian set a glass in front of Vinnie. Poured. Vinnie did not drink.
Tony pushed the paper plate to the middle of the table.
"You eat."
"You had half."
"My doctor says I had half."
"What's the other half."
"Capicola, prosciutto, sopressata, sharp provolone, three roasted peppers Brian's mother makes, oil and vinegar that Sil bought from a guy in Brooklyn." Tony nodded at the plate. "It's a sandwich."
Vinnie took half of the half. Ate.
It was a sandwich, the way Tony said it was a sandwich. Three meats, a cheese, a pepper, oil. The bread was good. The provolone was sharp the way provolone was supposed to be when it had been hanging in the back of a deli for the right number of weeks. There was nothing complicated about it and the thing it was, it was.
They ate in silence for two minutes.
Tony took a drink. Set the glass down. Looked at Vinnie.
"You been around a lot."
"Business is good."
"You said that on Tuesday."
"Still true Friday."
Tony grinned the small grin.
"You're not gonna tell me anything I don't know."
"What do you know."
"I know what I know."
"Then I don't have anything to tell you."
Tony's eyes stayed on him.
"All right."
"All right."
"You wanna know what I appreciate, Marchetti — aside from the not telling me things."
"What."
"I appreciate that when something comes up that I should know, you find a way for me to know it without you having to be the guy who told me. That's a hard trick. Most guys, the second they got a piece of information, they're at my elbow with it. Reading me the news. Tony Tony Tony. Like they're cashing a check. You don't do that. You just — you're around. And I look at you, and I see you're around, and that's all I need to see."
Vinnie set the piece of sandwich down on the plate.
"I'm around because I'm grateful, Tony."
"I know."
"I'm around because you put my construction company on the map in one afternoon, and I'm not gonna forget that. The foreman tells everybody who comes by the lot now. Tony Soprano stood right there. He points at the spot."
"Tell him to stop pointing."
"I will."
Tony grinned again. Looked at the half-eaten sandwich. Pushed it the rest of the way to Vinnie.
"Finish it. I'll feel less guilty."
Vinnie finished it.
The music shifted to a different song that was the same song. Christopher at the high-top laughed at something the younger man said. Pussy at the bar laughed louder than the joke deserved. Tony's eyes did not move off Vinnie's face during any of it.
When Vinnie set down the last crust Tony picked up his glass.
"You been to Hoboken lately."
"Not since February."
"It's April."
"It's April."
"You're a smart man, Marchetti. Don't be a smart man about everything."
He stood. Buttoned his jacket.
"I gotta — I gotta go talk to Christopher about that one over there with the haircut. Stay. Have another. On me."
"Thank you, Tony."
"Friday's a Friday."
He went over to Christopher's high-top. Slapped Christopher on the shoulder. Shook the younger man's hand. Pointed at the bar.
Vinnie stayed in the back booth for another five minutes with the second glass untouched.
Then he stood up. Buttoned his coat. Went out.
Tommy was at the curb in the Cadillac with the engine running and the Star-Ledger on the dash, which was Tommy's only configuration.
"Tommy."
"Vinnie."
"Saturday. Six o'clock. Pick me up at the house."
"Where we going."
"Hoboken."
Tommy's eyes flicked once in the rearview to Vinnie's face. Came back to the road.
"All right."
"Call ahead to Augustino's. Same name as last time. Seven-thirty. Back booth."
"Done."
The Cadillac pulled out into the avenue. The Bing got smaller in the side mirror. Vinnie leaned his head against the seat back, closed his eyes for one long blink, and opened them again.
"Tommy."
"Yeah."
"What kind of flowers does Elena like."
A pause.
"Vinnie, I don't know."
"Find out."
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