Chasing Stanley by Deirdre Martin Read Free Book Online

Ty continued.
    â€œI’m better.”
    â€œYeah?” Ty sounded amused. “We’ll see.”
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    Jason had never been to a place like Dante’s. Photos of priests and paintings of gondoliers lined the red walls, while the tables were draped in red and white checkered table-cloths. The decibel level was loud but relaxed; people were genuinely enjoying themselves as they ate. Floating above the din was the sound of Italian love songs piped through the sound system. Jason immediately felt comfortable; it had a real family atmosphere.
    He, the coach, and the captain were no sooner seated than a large, swarthy man bounded out of the kitchen, heading straight for the table. There was a big smile on his face as he playfully grabbed Michael in a headlock.
    â€œYou here to bust my balls or what, Mikey?”
    Michael pushed his brother away with a choke. “Jesus, what are you cooking back there? You stink!”
    â€œI’m cooking fish, cafone . Anchovy sauce and other delights.” He gave Ty a hearty pat on the back before looking at Jason with unmistakable sympathy. “Is this the latest sacrificial lamb?”
    Michael’s expression was reassuring as he turned to Jason. “Pay no attention to that man behind the apron.” His attention shifted back to his brother. “What do you recommend tonight?”
    â€œTo start? Crostini bianchi—that’s ricotta and anchovy canapes.”
    Michael glanced around the table. “That okay with you guys?”
    â€œFine,” said Ty.
    Jason just nodded. The only time he’d ever had anchovies was on pizza.
    â€œNext?” Michael prompted.
    â€œTagliatelle with Bolognese sauce. As a side I’d recommend breaded, fried finocchio.”
    Jason felt lost. “What’s finocchio?” he asked Michael.
    â€œGeppetto’s other son,” Anthony replied.
    â€œEnough with the wisecracks,” Michael said to Anthony. “It’s fennel. It’s good; trust me.”
    Anthony folded his arms across his chest. “We all set, then?”
    â€œI am,” said Michael. He looked at Ty. “You?”
    â€œYou know me: I need a fix of Anthony’s scungilli before I can even think of anything else.”
    â€œYou got it,” said Anthony.
    â€œYou?” Michael said to Jason. Jason wondered if the anxiety starting to mount inside him showed. Michael’s voice seemed unusually kind.
    â€œWhatever you recommend is fine with me.”
    Anthony gave a curt nod. “If that will be all, gentlemen, I will repair to my humble kitchen to slave over a hot stove for your pleasure.”
    â€œWho the hell are you kidding?” said Michael. “It’s for your pleasure.”
    Anthony shook his head. “See the thanks I get?” He disappeared behind the swinging doors of the kitchen.
    â€œDon’t let Anthony unnerve you,” Michael said as soon as his brother disappeared. “He may come off as a wisecracking SOB, but inside he’s a pussycat.”
    â€œYeah, like Torkelson,” Ty added wryly, taking a piece of bread.
    Every player in the NHL had a story about Ulf Torkelson, who had recently been acquired by the Blades in a trade with Ottawa. Jason himself had tangled with him on the ice a few times, and the notorious Swede had put an end to Paul van Dorn’s career. Jason was glad he’d now be playing with Ulfie and not against him.
    â€œHow are you adjusting?” Ty asked.
    Jason shrugged. “Great.”
    â€œYou all moved in?” asked Michael. Jason nodded, reaching for a piece of bread. He was starving, but he hadn’t wanted to dip into the bread basket until Michael or Ty had done so first. “Where you living?” Michael continued.
    â€œUpper West Side.”
    â€œNice.”
    â€œDon’t take the subway,” Ty warned. “Use the car service.” He jerked his thumb at Michael. “Mikey D over here