Black hair slicked straight back nodded once. The owner swaggered past without a glance; his white shirt glowed beneath the glossy sharkskin jacket.
“Somebody thinks he’s too good for us, eh, Big Joey:” A shoulder nudged a smidge too hard.
“Shush, Little Nick. What you on, man? I don’t want no trouble.”
“Forget it. Coming in? I’m hungry.”
“Maybe some calamari…”
“Hey Tony. Pasta, calamari, oysters.” Joey looked around.
“Sherry! You’re fast tonight. Smells good. Thanks.”
“Enjoy boys, Big Joey.”
“Frankie, to what do I owe…?
“Nice night, eh? What did you say back there?”
“Nothing, I swear.” Big Joey sensed the watching faces.
“Yeah? You swear eh? You swear…”
“Frankie, what are you doing with that fork?”
‘I’m going to have me some steak, rare. Now you can swear all you want.”
“@*&$*%.@$?Aiyeeeee—my leg—my leg.” Big Joey’s eyes murdered Little Nick.
“Get him out!”
~ * ~