Target on Our Backs
Page 2

"I won't argue with that, but the atmosphere leaves quite a bit to be desired."
Giuseppe returns then, sliding a small plate of cookies onto the table in front of me. They're so fresh I can smell the warm cinnamon sugar. "Uh, you are heaven-sent," I say, snatching up a cookie and taking a bite of it. Delicious.
Naz rolls his eyes. He rolls his eyes.
I don't think I've ever seen the man rolls his eyes before.
"Are you going to order some lunch?" Giuseppe asks impatiently, glaring at his only child. "Or are you planning to just loiter for a while?"
"Depends," Naz replies.
"On what?"
"On whether or not you're willing to serve me."
Giuseppe grumbles to himself as he stalks away, heading straight back behind the counter, roughly shoving the swinging door open.
He disappears into the kitchen.
"So, uh, does that mean we're eating?" I ask.
"It means I'm ordering," Naz says. "He's either gone back there to make the food for us, or he's calling the police because I'm trespassing again. But considering how hungry I am, I'd say it's probably worth the risk."
Getting up, Naz heads for the front counter, ordering two Italian specials.
After paying, he goes to return to the table but pauses. "You wouldn't happen to have today's newspaper, would you?" he asks the young guy running the cash register, one of only three employees Giuseppe pays to help him out around here. He tends to do the brunt of the work himself for whatever reason. Pride, maybe. Probably pigheadedness.
Before the guy can answer, Giuseppe hollers from the kitchen, "Buy your own damn paper!"
Shaking his head, Naz retakes his seat. "I suppose it's obvious by now where I got my asshole genes from."
"He's not an asshole," I say, still shoveling the cookie in my mouth. "Neither are you, for that matter. You're just, you know... a bit intense."
"Intense," Naz repeats. "That's one way to put it."
Intense, he is. His intensity is unrivaled. His bright blue eyes burn through me as they slowly, carefully, scan my face, watching me eat my cookie like he's getting off on it. I can feel my cheeks warming with blush. "Why are you staring at me?"
He leans a bit closer, a smirk tugging the corner of his lips, flashing his dimples. "Why not?"
It only takes a few minutes for our food to be ready. As it turns out, Giuseppe decided to serve him, after all. I dive right in the second mine is placed on the table, but Naz hesitates. He stares at the sandwich, picking it apart with his fingers, eyes slightly narrowed as he inspects the contents.
"For Christ's sake, Ignazio," Giuseppe shouts, coming out from the kitchen. "Just eat the damn thing!"
A second passes.
Then another.
And another.
I don't think he's going to eat it, but then... he does. He picks it up and takes a small bite, chewing carefully. Holy fuck.
I don't want to make a big deal out of the fact that he's eating at his father's deli, food that, not long ago, he wouldn't even touch. I don't want to rock the boat, so to speak, by pointing out that Giuseppe hasn't once actually threatened to throw his ass out on the street. I don't want to gloat, but I can't help it. I can feel myself smiling with satisfaction. He's different. He is.
'I told you so' is begging to come from my lips.
"See?" I say, almost giddy as I watch Naz eat. "I knew the two of you—"
I don't have a chance to finish whatever smug thing it is I'm planning to say. My words die on the tip of my tongue as loud bangs echo through the deli, one after another.
BANG
BANG
BANG
Before I even have a chance to react, Naz is on his feet, grabbing the table in front of us and flipping it over, shoving me to the checkered floor behind it. I hit the floor. Hard. Wincing, stunned, I peek around the table, watching in horror as the glass covering the front of the building cracks from the force of the flying bullets.
Bullets.
Fucking bullets.
Someone is shooting at the place.
Everyone else drops to the floor, scrambling away on instinct, everyone except for Naz… and his father, for that matter. Both men just stand there, staring straight ahead, as the tinted glass ripples and splinters between the metal bars but never breaks inside.
Bulletproof.
A few seconds. That's all it lasts. A dozen gunshots in quick succession before a car speeds away outside, the tires squealing, smoke flying. I can barely see it through the destruction, but I can tell the car is black, a shadowy mass of metal hauling ass to get away before it's caught.
My heart is hammering, my chest aching from the force of the thumps. Gasping, I try to catch my breath, but it's hard. So damn hard. Stark silence overtakes the deli in the wake of the gunfire. It seems to go on forever. We're all stunned. Eventually, Naz turns his head, calmly looking down at where I'm still crouching on the floor, carefully offering me his hand.
"Are you okay?" he asks, although he doesn't actually sound alarmed. I don't know if the man is just desensitized to this sort of thing, or if maybe he knew we were safe where we were.
"I, uh…" My voice shakes, my body trembling as I let him pull me to my feet. "Yeah, I think so."
He looks me over, still gripping onto my hand, before turning his attention to the window. People around us are getting to their feet, some fleeing from the fear of it all, while Giuseppe still just stands there, silent, staring.
He's in shock.
I don't know what to say. I don't know what to do.
Someone just shot up the fucking deli.
Something tells me there will be hell to pay from a Vitale for it.
I'm just not entirely sure which man at this point.
"You," Giuseppe growls, his voice laced with an anger I haven't heard since the first day Naz brought me to this place. It's the sound of simmering rage, of fury, of disgust. His head turns, his eyes going straight to his son. Naz turns to his father at the sound of the man's voice, his expression stoic. "Get out! Get out, and don't come back!"
I'm too stunned to do anything but stand there and watch. Naz, on the other hand, doesn't look surprised at all. He looks his father over for a moment before turning to me, pulling me toward him. He wraps his arms around me, and I hug him back, gripping tight.
"Next time," he whispers, "pick somewhere else to eat."
With that, he lets go of me.
With that, he's gone.
It happens in a blink. The bell over the door is jingling, and Naz is no longer beside me before I can even make sense of what's going on. Brow furrowing, body still trembling, I dash for the door, shocked my legs can even hold me up. I pull the door open and dart out onto the sidewalk, calling his name. "Naz? Naz!"
I turn around in circles, looking, but he's gone. That fast. He disappeared from the deli, leaving me there.
He just… left me here.
Like I said, he's different.
The old Naz would've never done that.
Sirens blare in the distance, coming closer as I stand there, my eyes drifting to the front of the deli. Shards of glass litter the sidewalk, as well as a few bullets that had ricocheted off. The glass kept them from getting inside, but it wasn't immune to destruction.