Tony burned the pasta sauce. Not a lot, but enough that one could smell the tomatoes were getting racked and pinioned. He put too much salt in the pizza sauce, I knew, I was having two slices of neopolitan with pepperoni. The Italian was clanging pots, and cursing, I think, as he poured the fried sausage and beef into a steel pot.
Antonio was not a happy camper. I'd heard him say in months past that the customers were happy to eat for less than eighteen dollars(a couple), and leave some paper dollars plus a little change. No one ever ordered the house specialties. The customers thought they were in a chain pizza restaurant, and that's what I thought, too. I was not any different. I did not have the bread. I did not have the bread for authentic chicken recipes in Tony's Italian restaurant. Bill, I believe this is killing me. No, shoot me if I was the piano player. Or were. The way people spend money in this place the piano player would certainly have to get by on tips. And you know what that means. Things are okay with me these days, and the family is fine. I hope they send me money again soon. In this town, the piano player would be an egret, like me.
I don't eat at Antonio's a lot. I gotta save up for software that enables me to copy Billy Joel or some tarantellas or John Coltrane without buying any of that from The Holding Company. Aside from corporate pot-shots, I don't actually have much Janis. I decided to quit my little piracy, for a little while. If I want music, Italian or The Rolling Stones, I'll buy if I have the deniro.. For what I spent on the last Stones CD I could come in here and get sausage lasagna and Peroni. Yet the last time I was in Tony's I did like I always do. I got the side salad and ordered some pepperoni slices.
Tony was talking to an employee in a low voice. Tony is not in the mob. The mob I know of eats down the street at a place that gets frozen sauce and frozen bread from somewhere in Indiana. All I'm saying is, Tony is not the violent type, I don't think. Now if one was to look up "dating drama" with a popular search engine, Antonio would be somewhere in the images. If he was not married to Bella. Because Antonio gets pissed. And that's about all, but that's enough. He needs to change his name to Luigi and open a another business in the Greek Isles. Where he can see new sights, and mellow out. At least during the slow season.
....
It was about two. I was on my second slice of pizza from the Dead Sea. Actually, it was not bad. Later, I would be watching one of my mob flicks and then enthusiastically pour tap water into a plastic cup and drain it dry. So about two o'clock I asked a freshman with a nice butt to bring me a glass of wine. Red, it didn't matter. She was dark brunette and about 21, and I was not inclined to speak to her. She knows everyone who works at the small venue. Everyone, including the owner, chef, and manager who hired her. The girl brought me a glass and I smiled. She rolled her brown eyes and started to walk away.
"Wait".
She turned and looked back at me. "What's your boss so mad about?
She fidgeted. Then she told me. She was not exactly clueless, she'd seen me in here before and I trusted her. Trusted her to open her mouth.
"This guy left here about 20 minutes before you got here. He and his girlfriend or his woman or his ex ordered chef salads and some shrooms. So the man says the croutons are not fresh. I had to go to the bathroom so I don't remember what happened next."
