I knew it wasn’t an idle threat, not the way normal people teased each other with that phrase. This was completely real.
Luca stared at him for a moment. “President Martin.”
The table fell into another bout of silence, but this one was heavier than all the others. A standoff happened between Bastien and Luca, both of them staring at each other and having a silent conversation.
The waiter arrived a moment later and placed the enormous platters of food in front of us, pancakes, eggs, bacon, and a scoop of baked beans. The hash browns were compacted into a ball rather than rolled flat, but they still looked good.
“Enough shop talk,” Bastien said. “Let’s f*****g eat.”
“You guys met at Silencio?” Luca asked, his attention on me.
“I’m a bartender there,” I said. “Well, I was.” On Monday, I
