Mary couldn’t get Manny from the Legal Aid office out of her mind. He was so handsome with his olive skin and wide, kind eyes. She could picture his tight curly hair cut close on the sides, chiseled jaw, high cheekbones, and muscled shoulders. He had a beautiful smile. Perfect teeth. He’d looked straight into her eyes, not intimidated by her like other guys.
She wished she was going out with him tonight. Unfortunately, she’d made other plans.
“Ugh, I can’t believe I agreed to this!” she said out loud, walking down Stone Street in FiDi. It was Oktoberfest, and downtown was hopping. The bars were decorated for the season and packed with people her age from the big financial companies, all washing down their day and having a good time.
But Mary couldn’t stop and linger because she had a date.
Mary’s mother had set her up with Theresa Molinaro’s son, Ricky. Mary knew Ricky all too well. He’d gone to St. Joe by-the-Sea with her brother Gabe—the one who’d put his high school exploits behind him and become a priest, forever and ever, amen. Ricky’s father owned Paisano’s, a huge Italian import business on Staten Island. Ricky was not in charge of that. Instead, his dad had made him manager of his indoor pickleball facility, The Dink Den.
“Mary, he’s a good boy,” her mother had said on the phone. “And listen, you’ve not brought anyone home in ages. Not since that Irish boy, what’s his...”
“Colin.”
“Who hid in the bathroom during Sunday supper because he thought everyone was yelling at him.”
“They were! His family are Islanders fans, I’m sorry.”
“I’m just worried about you. I’m your mother—built to worry. I’m afraid you’re wasting your youth. Please, Mary. It’s just dinner. For me?” Her mom knew how to press her buttons.
Hence, a 7:30 p.m. reservation at Adrienne’s Pizzabar. She’d worked at the office until the last possible billable hour before heading over.
Her heels clicked on the sidewalk as she turned in to the restaurant. Ricky was sitting at the table by the window, wearing a fitted long-sleeved white T-shirt and a black leather jacket. He still had a baby face and was drenched in Drakkar. He was just like every guy Mary grew up with—fun family guys who were not at all her type. They were her people, but they’d never be her boyfriends.
Bracing herself, Mary took off her tan leather belted coat as she walked up to the table.
“Ricky, hi. Good to see you.” She sat and took a sip of ice water, the cold hitting her teeth.
“Wow. Mary Russo. You look.... amazing.” He seemed stunned by her. She was in black crepe wide-leg pants, a red silk shirt, and silver hoop and charm earrings.
“Thanks for coming into the city. I couldn’t get away from the office.”
“No problem. The ferry is still free, baby.” He held his hands out wide.
“All the best things in life are.” She kept her hands in her lap.
Mary settled in with a glass of the house cabernet. And keep ’em coming, her eyes said to the waitress.
Ricky and Mary chatted about the old neighborhood before ordering, but they were interrupted by his gearhead obsession. Every nice car that went by, he had to comment on it.
“That’s a McLaren! I wonder if it’s Aaron Rodgers’s.”
Mary smiled and nodded.
“He was the Jets quarterback for a time...”
“Oh, I know.” Mary barely looked up from the menu, bored by cars and sports. He didn’t notice.
Finally, they ordered. Salmon, medium rare, for Mary, chicken parmesan for Ricky, and a side of spicy broccoli rabe to share.
“We could have eaten better at home,” Mary teased. At least Ricky laughed at her joke.
“There’s nothing like our ma’s home-cooked meal. But this place is all right.”
They chatted about their families during the meal. It seemed everyone they knew was getting married and having children, except for Gabe. And them.
About halfway through their entrees, Ricky’s phone rang. He looked at it and set it back down. “It’s my ma.” He rolled his eyes and ignored the call.
Two minutes later it rang again.