Ch. 12

The first thing Dante encountered when he entered Pozzulo's was Sonny talking to one of his baristas behind the coffee bar in the restaurant. Sonny gestured to Dante after he noticed him, saying, "Hey Dante, c'mere. You've gotta try this." Dante approached the bar curiously. "What is it?" he asked. "It's espresso with cherry rum biscotti. We're thinkin' of addin' it to the coffee bar menu. Tell me what you think."

"I don't know, Sonny. I'm having a hard enough time sleeping these days—it might be too late in the day for espresso for me…"

"You don't have to have the whole cup. Just taste it and tell me what you think."

Dante dipped the biscotti in the espresso and took a bite. "It's good," he proclaimed. He went on, "You're really working hard to make this place look legit, aren't you? Adding new items to the coffee bar, Enrico working full-time…"

"Hey, this place IS legit. Who knows? Maybe someday there will be Pozzulo's all over the place, like a chain."

"Is that your plan—to franchise?"

"Just sayin', you never know. What brings you by, anyway?"

Dante considered his father for a moment before answering, "I heard you had some kind of meeting with Valerie. Somehow I got the feeling it was about me, so I wanted to know what you said to her."

Sonny laughed. "Sounds a little conceited to me. Everything ain't about you, kid. I wanted to get to know the woman stayin' in my penthouse, that's all. We were just havin' a private conversation—nothin' you need to be bothered about."

"She said you were concerned about me, so I know my name came up-"

"Don't worry about it. Did she tell you what we talked about?"

"Not really."

"There it is, then. Just know that I came away from the conversation likin' her, and bein' glad she's gonna be around for you, that's all. Anything else you don't need to worry about. Since you're here, have you had dinner yet? I can get Enrico to fix you up somethin'…"

Dante smiled and shook his head, laughing. "As many times as you've been in the interrogation room, I should know better than to try to get anything out of you that you don't wanna give up. Yeah, I could eat. Thanks. Tell Enrico to fix me the same thing Valerie was raving about all day-that shrimp stuff."

"You got it."

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After another night of fractured sleep, Dante laid on the couch staring at the ceiling as morning came. Today was the day he and Lulu were to meet with the divorce mediator. His feelings were mixed as he lay there brooding. He felt a little bit sick to his stomach, a dull ache. Or maybe that was his heart, he mused. He realized he was sad. He never intended or believed he would be in this state—divorced from Lulu. He was regretful for the part he played in the demise of his marriage. Then he thought of the lies Lulu told that, he felt, allowed everything that followed to be set in motion, and he started getting angry all over again. Maybe the anger was becoming a protection, he didn't know, to shield him from the reality of his situation. Why exactly was this happening? He wanted to clarify his position before he went to the meeting. This was happening because he cheated on his wife, an event that would have never happened if she hadn't lied to him and distrusted him. He didn't have to cheat, he knew, but he had thought, based on what her lies led to, that his marriage was already over. He couldn't get past how honesty only seemed important to her when it was him being honest with her, but not the other way around. And he didn't feel like chasing and begging her for another chance as if he was the only one who had done something wrong this time. He remembered how she had said she was "willing to try to forgive him," and he snorted. The princess lowering herself to consider the peasant with her favors. Maybe that wasn't fair, but that's how he felt. Having straightened and ordered his thoughts, he got off the couch and prepared to face the day.

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Lulu was icy as they sat in the divorce mediator's office, and Dante felt a twinge of regret about that. He knew it was just a protection for her, maybe as much as his anger was for him. He knew the warm person she was underneath, and he hoped she didn't remain encased in ice after time had passed. The papers had been filed and received by both parties; a file number had been given. Both parties agreed there was an irretrievable breakdown in the marriage. There were no real marital assets to speak of—the loft was held jointly but owned by neither. By agreement, Dante would remain there, since Lulu wanted no part of it anymore. Rocco would be provided for with monthly child support payments; primary care would be with the mother, with the father having liberal visitation rights. Temporary spousal support for Lulu with the provision for revisiting the situation should the income of either party increase or decrease, or until the final decree was given. Since the divorce was being uncontested, a final decree could be handed down in two to three months. And that was it. No fuss, no muss, just the end of everything.

"Per the agreement, I'll call you with a time that's convenient for you to come see Rocco," Lulu said haughtily before leaving the office. Frost all the way. A part of him admired that.

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Later on in the evening, Dante found himself once again in Jake's. He had been looking for some anonymous company but the bar was nearly empty. He ordered a beer from the bar and then chose a table, slung himself down into a chair, and took a swig of his beer. Not long after Dante had arrived at Jake's, Randy Hill walked in and after spotting him, he approached the table. "Hey Falconeri, you on your own?" he asked, sitting down uninvited. "Who should I be with, Hill?" replied Dante, who was slightly annoyed. Something about Hill rubbed him the wrong way sometimes. Maybe it was the cozy way he had with a certain someone… He shied away from that thought. "Not saying it had to be anyone special, just surprised to find you on your own, is all," Randy said as he motioned to Coleman for a beer. Detective Bill Johnson and a couple more officers from the PCPD trooped in after the end of their shifts and Bill said laughingly as he walked up, "What's this, the PSB table?" "PSB? What's that?" wondered Randy in puzzlement. "The Poor Sad Bastard's table, that's what," Bill chortled. He went on to say, "Why the faces? Ya'll look like someone took away your pensions or somethin'."

Randy spoke first. "I don't know about Falconeri, but I was at a loose end and thinking maybe here I'd get some female companionship. Broke up with my girlfriend three months ago, and the girl I had my eye on wants someone else," he finished, his eyes unconsciously cutting to Dante.

"Well what's your story, Falconeri?" Bill and the others sat down and Bill leaned forward on his fist as if expecting to hear some juicy gossip.

"I had my divorce mediation today, that's all. I just came in here for a beer and to be around people without being bothered. At least I got the beer…"

"Yeah, well you shouldn't be alone at a time like this—good thing we stopped by," Bill smirked. "Hey Coleman," he yelled, "Why don't you set us up with some more beer and some snacks or somethin'?"

Coleman responded, "As long as you're payin' tonight, you can have what you want. Your tab's all but busted, Johnson."

"All right, all right," Bill grumbled as he dug in his pocket for his wallet, "just set us up."

"You got it," Coleman said over his shoulder before disappearing into the back of the bar.

Nathan ambled into the bar and once he had spotted his brothers in blue, he came toward them with a faint smile. "This where the party is? Nobody invited me."

One of the other officers answered, "This's a 'Free At Last' party for Falconeri. He's getting his bachelor rank back. I thought you had a lady, though, so what brings you down?"

Nathan sat down with a disgusted grunt. "My 'lady' and her friend are having an 'I Hate Men' fest at her place, complete with fuzzy slippers and Haagen Dazs. Sorry, man" he told Dante, who waved him aside with his hand. He further said, "I reminded Maxie I was a man too, and she almost threw a shoe at me. Didn't see any reason to stay after that."

"Falconeri," Bill suddenly addressed him, "how long were you married for?"

"Dated for over two, married for almost four."

"That's rough," one of the other officers said, everyone else nodding in agreement.

"Boo-frickin'-hoo," replied Bill sarcastically, "call me when your wife of over eighteen years tells you she's 'found her bliss' with her new, younger yoga instructor, takin' half your assets with her. Or when your kids blame the split on your ass for bein' a cop who works too many long hours, even though your cop ass's money is helpin' put them through college," he finished bitterly before having an angry swallow of his beer.

"Yeah, yeah, Johnson, we get it—you're the only one whose life sucks."

Coleman returned to the table with a pitcher of beer and a basket of chicken wings which he placed on the table in front of them. He was regretting letting his waitress split for the night but up until an hour ago, the bar had been almost empty. "What about you, Coleman?" Randy asked him, "You ever married?"

"What for?" Coleman smirked. "Listen dudes, bein' with a woman is like choosin' a car. You get the make and model you want, you choose the style, the color, and then you lease, you don't buy. Makes it a lot easier to trade up later, if you know what I'm sayin'."

Dante said in disgust, "That's a real mature attitude there, Coleman. Must be a real hit with the ladies you meet."

"I don't hurt for action, if that's what you mean. O'course I 'spose I could be all mature and marry up and end up lookin' like you right now." Having scored a point, Coleman sauntered off and went back behind the bar.

"He makes some sense," Nathan said.

"Yo, West, what's up with you and what'd you say her name was, Maxie? You plannin' to tie the noose—I mean the knot, anytime soon?"

"I love Maxie," Nathan said, "but I'm not sure about marriage just yet. We're probably heading in that direction, though. Eventually."

"She's kind of a ditz, though, ain't she?" Bill joked.

"Come on, Johnson, watch your mouth! You're talking about his woman."

"Just sayin'," Bill replied, "Ditzy is kind of cute when they're twenty but when they're forty, it's a domestic homicide waitin' to happen. That crap gets annoyin' real quick."

"I appreciate your imput, Johnson. Good looking out. If I do marry her, I'll be sure not to invite you," countered Nathan.

"Hey, you children should listen to the experienced ones—save you a lotta grief later on," admonished Bill knowingly.

Suddenly Randy looked around the bar and exclaimed, "Just my luck! The chicks that are in here are already with someone. The house is kinda sparse tonight. Doesn't seem like I'm gonna meet anyone worth my time…"

"Why'd you kick your last girlfriend to the curb," he was asked.

"I didn't kick her, she kicked me. Turns out she was a badge bunny—met a lieutenant out of some precinct in Buffalo, decided she was in love, dropped me like a bad habit. It happens."

"Only to you, Hill," Bill guffawed loudly, "only to you! What are you, new? How fresh are you that you can't recognize a badge bunny when she flashes her tail atcha? First it's the whole, 'Are you a cop?' Then it's the 'I think cops are so brave!' Then it's the 'My uncle-brother-fifth cousin was a cop and I admired him so much!' Next thing you know, she's got your phone number and she's tryin' to get a ride home. It's called a pattern, son. They've all got 'em."

Dante was only halfway listening to the conversations going on around him but he was glad he wasn't on his own, after all. Johnson was a loud mouth, Hill was annoying, but these guys were his annoyingly loud people. His brothers. He was unknowingly taking solace in the inanity of their conversations as they wore on through the night.

It was his intention to have one more beer and then head for home. As he walked toward the bar, he scowled as he saw a familiar face entering Jake's. Dillon Quartermaine. Against his better nature, he began to bristle but before he could speak, Dillon was saying accusingly, "I hope you're proud of yourself, Dante! I saw Lulu earlier this evening at Maxie's—she's been crying all night!"

"Somehow, Quartermaine, right now I'm stuck between askin' you how that's your business, and just pushin' your face in. Keep talkin', help me decide." His brothers quickly surrounded him, and Nathan said, "Man, he's not even worth it—don't bother giving him a reason to try to have you charged with assault or something."

"Listen, junior," Bill added with a growl, "You might want to go somewhere else to get your drink on. I don't see nothin' nice happenin' for you if you stay here."

"I don't need any trouble from you guys," Dillon said angrily. He added, "I came in here to have a drink and I have just as much right to be here as you do."

"What you don't seem to get is this ain't about rights. This is about us bouncin' you all over this bar and swearin' that you just fell down. Over and over again. You trackin' me, son? Hit it," Bill ordered while pointing at the door.

"Sounds like you're talking about police brutality to me."

"You got it, junior. Po-lice bru-tal-i-tee. All over your ass."

"You're pretty brave with your friends behind you," Dillon stated to Dante with a sneer.

"You really wanna screw with me right now, DULLON? I'm in the mood to hit somethin' over and over—might as well be you as anything," replied Dante. He'd been loosened up by the beer and he was spoiling for a fight. Dillon made the perfect target as far as he was concerned.

"Ain't gonna be no fightin' tonight," Bill declared with finality, "'cause junior's goin' home before he gets the ass kickin' of his pretty boy life."

Coleman walked in the middle of the crowd carrying a baseball bat and saying, "Ain't gonna be no fightin' 'cause you're ALL goin' home. Bar's closed, gents. And don't let your drama spill out into my parkin' lot. But then I guess I wouldn't have to call the cops for the disturbance, ya'll bein' cops yourselves and all. Anybody too drunk to drive?"

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Once Dante had sobered up a bit, he was slightly ashamed of his behavior with Dillon Quartermaine. It wasn't his fault that he'd gotten tangled up in all this. At least, Dante didn't think it was. He never really knew what role Dillon had played in Lulu lying to him. He supposed it didn't matter now, whatever it was. His marriage was over. Time to start moving on. He turned onto his stomach as he lay on the couch and looked over at his bed. First thing after work tomorrow, he decided, he was getting a new mattress.

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