Chapter 11Todd
Wait a minute, Delvecchio wasn’t Irish.
First, he’d been led on a wild i***t chase to Hell’s Kitchen, now he was headed to a town called Spring Lake, which, according to his research done the night before, the Jersey borough held on average the highest percentage of its population of Irish Americans than any place in the U.S. Its nickname was the “Irish Riviera.”
So, what was a guy like Colosseo Delvecchio doing hanging his shingle alongside pubs?
Todd Gleason was confused about many things, but currently he was wondering just what he was in store for as Exit 98 approached, finally able to get off the godforsaken Garden State Parkway. The trip was only supposed to take thirty-five minutes or so from where he’d stayed overnight, but with traffic and an unfamiliarity stifl
