Luigi's Place
By Laurie Wipperfurth
Luigi’s is the best in town for Italian food. It’s a small neighborhood restaurant and not many of the uptown crowd know it. Lisa Garbani was new to the city and I’d wanted to show off. When I asked her out, I decided none of those up-scale fusion places would do. I wanted to take her to an authentic little Italian joint where the tablecloths are red checked and they still put candles in old Chianti bottles.
“Now, don’t expect much for atmosphere,” I explained taking her arm to help her up the curb, “This place is right out of the 50’s.”
“Sounds nice,” she said, her eyes twinkling in the street light. “I’m Italian you know.”
I nearly laughed. Garbani? You think? It was why I chose the damned place! But of course she was making small talk and I needed to keep focused on my own lively banter. I really liked Lisa Garbani.
The place was warm and steamy after the cold night air. Inside there was barely space for eight tables and the small bar. The maître d cum waiter took our coats and hung them from an old wooden coat tree crowded in next to the door. He seated us by the window and we settled in with a mellow red wine and some crusty bread.
We were chatting away like old friends before long. In fact, until a burly man in a dark suit at the next table stood up suddenly, I hadn’t even noticed the other patrons.
The woman tending the bar stopped wiping a drink tumbler and disappeared into the back. Two men got off their bar stools, laid down small bills to cover their drinks, and slipped out of the place. That left the table next to us.
“But Big Tony…” a plaintive voice began, trailing off to a whisper.
I’m not an eaves dropper. In fact, I try not to hear other peoples’ conversation. I don’t like to intrude. But the man who was standing, had placed himself between us and the table hosting ‘Big Tony’. It was as if he were forming a wall with his bulk. I decided a bit of eaves dropping might be in order.
“Now, now Sal,” replied a much deeper, mellower voice, “Haven’t we been through this before?”
“Emm, Lisa,” I interrupted, for she was telling me brightly about the apartment she’d found just blocks from her office. Trying not to frighten her, I said as pleasantly as possible, “We could try a different restaurant –if you’d like.”
“Oh, no Jeff,” she replied quickly, “This place is adorable.” Then she continued her description of ten foot ceilings and crown moldings.
The waiter was standing well back near the kitchen, gnashing his teeth.
“You know what comes next, Sal,” said Big Tony, and he snapped his fingers. Most people can’t make such a sharp, crisp sound from thumb and middle finger, but Big Tony did. I winced.
Another man came out of the back room and hauled Sal off his chair. He dragged the cringing Sal back behind a wine colored velvet curtain that screened the kitchen door. Then I distinctly heard several blows to a jaw, an eye, and probably a solar plexus, each followed by a groan of pain. I just held my breath and watched Lisa’s face. How could the girl ignore the sound of a man being beaten, just feet away?
“Maybe we should leave,” I whispered desperately. I was sweating.
“No, silly,” she replied, “It’s a very nice spot and they make Stoccafisso. Only my grandmother makes that anymore.”
I shifted uneasily as Sal was helped back to the table, a red-checkered napkin held to his eye. Chairs scraped the floor as Big Tony’s party prepared to leave. I glanced over, saw one of the large men dust off Sal’s jacket, and nod him to the door. Sal left quickly.
Big Tony paid up and as he sauntered toward the coat rack, he stopped by our table, leaning in, “What a lovely young couple! Sorry for the disturbance, your dinner is on me.” He winked at my date, then he and his entourage left.
As the cold air wafted around us through the closing door, I blew out a breath. “I can’t believe what happened here!” I stuttered.
She twinkled at me again. “Oh, it was nothing,” she replied, “Uncle Tony always insists on picking up the tab.”
- - -
I have a B.A. in English from the University of Wisconsin. I’m currently writing an historical/adventure novel. I’ve had a few short stories published in Wired Ruby magazine.
By Laurie Wipperfurth
Luigi’s is the best in town for Italian food. It’s a small neighborhood restaurant and not many of the uptown crowd know it. Lisa Garbani was new to the city and I’d wanted to show off. When I asked her out, I decided none of those up-scale fusion places would do. I wanted to take her to an authentic little Italian joint where the tablecloths are red checked and they still put candles in old Chianti bottles.
“Now, don’t expect much for atmosphere,” I explained taking her arm to help her up the curb, “This place is right out of the 50’s.”
“Sounds nice,” she said, her eyes twinkling in the street light. “I’m Italian you know.”
I nearly laughed. Garbani? You think? It was why I chose the damned place! But of course she was making small talk and I needed to keep focused on my own lively banter. I really liked Lisa Garbani.
The place was warm and steamy after the cold night air. Inside there was barely space for eight tables and the small bar. The maître d cum waiter took our coats and hung them from an old wooden coat tree crowded in next to the door. He seated us by the window and we settled in with a mellow red wine and some crusty bread.
We were chatting away like old friends before long. In fact, until a burly man in a dark suit at the next table stood up suddenly, I hadn’t even noticed the other patrons.
The woman tending the bar stopped wiping a drink tumbler and disappeared into the back. Two men got off their bar stools, laid down small bills to cover their drinks, and slipped out of the place. That left the table next to us.
“But Big Tony…” a plaintive voice began, trailing off to a whisper.
I’m not an eaves dropper. In fact, I try not to hear other peoples’ conversation. I don’t like to intrude. But the man who was standing, had placed himself between us and the table hosting ‘Big Tony’. It was as if he were forming a wall with his bulk. I decided a bit of eaves dropping might be in order.
“Now, now Sal,” replied a much deeper, mellower voice, “Haven’t we been through this before?”
“Emm, Lisa,” I interrupted, for she was telling me brightly about the apartment she’d found just blocks from her office. Trying not to frighten her, I said as pleasantly as possible, “We could try a different restaurant –if you’d like.”
“Oh, no Jeff,” she replied quickly, “This place is adorable.” Then she continued her description of ten foot ceilings and crown moldings.
The waiter was standing well back near the kitchen, gnashing his teeth.
“You know what comes next, Sal,” said Big Tony, and he snapped his fingers. Most people can’t make such a sharp, crisp sound from thumb and middle finger, but Big Tony did. I winced.
Another man came out of the back room and hauled Sal off his chair. He dragged the cringing Sal back behind a wine colored velvet curtain that screened the kitchen door. Then I distinctly heard several blows to a jaw, an eye, and probably a solar plexus, each followed by a groan of pain. I just held my breath and watched Lisa’s face. How could the girl ignore the sound of a man being beaten, just feet away?
“Maybe we should leave,” I whispered desperately. I was sweating.
“No, silly,” she replied, “It’s a very nice spot and they make Stoccafisso. Only my grandmother makes that anymore.”
I shifted uneasily as Sal was helped back to the table, a red-checkered napkin held to his eye. Chairs scraped the floor as Big Tony’s party prepared to leave. I glanced over, saw one of the large men dust off Sal’s jacket, and nod him to the door. Sal left quickly.
Big Tony paid up and as he sauntered toward the coat rack, he stopped by our table, leaning in, “What a lovely young couple! Sorry for the disturbance, your dinner is on me.” He winked at my date, then he and his entourage left.
As the cold air wafted around us through the closing door, I blew out a breath. “I can’t believe what happened here!” I stuttered.
She twinkled at me again. “Oh, it was nothing,” she replied, “Uncle Tony always insists on picking up the tab.”
- - -
I have a B.A. in English from the University of Wisconsin. I’m currently writing an historical/adventure novel. I’ve had a few short stories published in Wired Ruby magazine.
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