Derek started work the next morning but it was three days before he saw the man he was looking for. At least he was pretty certain it was Mario. He was on a break out back having a smoke when the man came in—or at least feigning that he was smoking. It gave him a bit of cachet with Carl, one of the cooks, who smoked like a chimney and was always bumming cigarettes from him.
So when he went back inside in time to see a man had come in who resembled how Mario had been described to him, Derek made a point of asking Carl who he was.
“Him? He’s a punk named Mario. Okay, not a punk, since he’s Tony’s nephew, but…yeah, he’s a punk. Doesn’t seem to have a job but has plenty of money.”
Derek chuckled. “Jealous?”
Carl snorted. “Wouldn’t you be?”
As he studied the man, Derek admitted he might be
