College Street by Olindo Romeo Chiocca

Author:Olindo Romeo Chiocca
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Cities - Toronto
ISBN: 9781550714524
Publisher: Guernica Editions
Published: 2005-07-25T00:00:00+00:00

13

Two days later, on the Tuesday before I was to leave for Italy, Andrew called and asked me to work. Reservations were twice the norm and, apparently, some singer from Italy, Filippe Cucunatto and his entourage of twelve, had booked a table and were expected in at about midnight. Giancarlo took the late reservation without asking Andrew. I really didn’t want to work, I had only five days left before leaving for Italy, and I still hadn’t figured out how to bring that money back into Canada. But Andrew was stuck, so I went in. There turned out to be a reason for working that day. Around five, Eddie walked into the kitchen with two bags full of stuff.

“Where’s Andrew?” he asked.

“In the basement chopping meat,” I said. “Hey, I need some advice.”

“Yea?”

“I’ve got to bring some stuff into Canada from Italy without being caught. How do I do it?”

“Whadaya gotta bring in?” he asked.

I can’t say Eddie owed me any favours, but I was continually giving him bone and meat scraps for his dogs, so I was hoping he might help. “Just a bunch of documents I don’t want to be found with when I go through customs.” I had no intention of telling him about all that money, but he could probably guess.

He paused for a moment, then said,“I know what you can do. I can get you one of those suitcases with the false bottoms. Once you close the panels from inside, no one will be able to tell anything is going on. I can get it for you for fifty bucks.”

“What? I don’t want to keep it, just use it. I’ll give it back.”

“I don’t want it,” he said. “It’s fifty bucks! When do you need it?”

I told him as soon as possible. He said he would drop it off at the restaurant on Friday.

“I know you’ll pay,” he stated.

As if I’d try and screw him! The suitcase gave me another idea for bringing in the money but I would deal with it the next day. By noon, Filippe and his entourage came in. By twelve-thirty, the table ordered a large platter of Cornish hens, red snappers stuffed with thyme, osso bucco, a couple of salad bowls of black spaghetti, fried greens, orotlano salad, and lots of polenta. The table was covered with bottles of wine and San Pelegrino water.When the order came to the kitchen, the waiter informed us that Mr. Cucunatto specifically ordered his red snapper to be cleaned of all bones, lest the fish skeleton scratch his throat. After it was cooked, Andrew told me to get on it. While I cleaned it, all that I could think of was missing a piece of bone and then hearing him scream in agony as it scraped down his throat like an ice axe, tearing his priceless vocal chords to ribbons. There were no screams during dinner.

The next morning I was up early to run errands for my trip and the party. I was still feeling tired from the night before and wasn’t sure how much I could get done without crashing.

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