Tit for Tat
It's past noon when I enter the restaurant at the golf club. If Salvatore has summoned me here, it's because he needs to project an image.
I look around and find him at the back of the place with a man and a woman while they have a drink. «Can't they go somewhere closer?» No, they have to flaunt their money.
I adjust the blazer of my tailored suit as I approach the table.
"Good afternoon, sorry for the delay." I say as a greeting. Salvatore stands up and, to my surprise, gives me a smile.
One that couldn't be more fake.
"A lot of traffic?" he inquires as he pulls out the chair for me.
«In his language, that means: Can't you hurry up?"»
"Actually, I was a bit tied up with work."
He doesn't seem happy with my response, but I care very little if that's the case.
"This is
