Page 42 of Destroyer
5
HELLO HOLLYWOOD, HELLO NAOMI
TEDDY
After ninety minutes of focused target practice at the outdoor range, Teddy felt invigorated. Greystone was right. He’d take one evening to hang with Sydney, then back to the grind. Haqazzii and his soldiers weren’t going anywhere.
He stopped at home to secure his weapon’s bag in his safe before continuing on to Santini Ristorante. The second he entered the building, the tension melted away. Here, Tank was the friendly, hardworking GM of an upscale, family-owned Italian eatery tucked into a prime location in Old Town, Alexandria. Formerly the hub for illegal activities of the Santini crime family, he and his brothers had turned the business into one of the area’s most popular restaurants.
At 5:10 pm, the place was already humming with the first seating. Teddy loved seeing a packed dining room.
Tara made her way over. “Hey, boss.”
“Everything work out for you?”
“All good.” She stepped close. “Thank you again. I’m all moved into my new apartment.”
“Congrats.” He glanced around. “What’s going on here?”
She smiled. “It’s a first, but we had no call outs. Full kitchenandwait staff.” She pretended to wipe her brow with the back of her hand. “Whew, right?”
“Nice. Are we booked?”
“All three seatings,” she replied.
The front door opened, a lone man entered. When he saw Tara, he flashed a smile. “Hey, baby.”
Tara beamed. “Hi, Hollywood.”
“Is my table ready, love?” he asked.
Tara glanced furtively at Teddy. “This is Tank. Tank, this is my boyfriend, Hollywood.”
“How’s it goin’?” Teddy asked.
Hollywood had spiked, jet-black hair with bright blond tips. His face was covered in a well-manicured dark beard and mustache. Framing his eyes were brilliant blue glasses. His suit matched his dark hair, his shirt matched his blue-rimmed glasses.
He looked like he’d put too much thought into… well… into everything.
“Tank, my man, good to meetcha.”
With a cheesy grin, Hollywood pumped his hand a little too hard and way too long. Teddy was waiting to hear a slick sales pitch for a used car.
“Mr. Santini, I hope it’s okay, I’ve been seating Hollywood at the owner’s table,” Tara said as a group of women bustled in, their conversations temporarily hijacking Teddy’s attention.
“No, Tara, it’s not okay,” Teddy pushed back.
“Seriously?” Hollywood said. “It sits empty most nights.”
Teddy lifted a bunch of menus, shifted toward the party of women. “Welcome to Santini Ristorante. Do you have a res?”
“Ohgod, hello,” bleated one of the women before giving them the name of their party.
Rather than ask Tara to seat them, he eyed the electronic seating chart. At first glance, he couldn’t see where a group of eight would fit.
“Tara,” he called out.
She hurried over, stared at the backlit seating chart, then pointed to their reservation. The group was forty-five minutes early.
