Chapter 8: Chess

I looked at Lucia's hand on her flat stomach.

"Congratulations," I said. "Make sure he comes to the appointments. He's not good at those."

Her smile cracked at one corner.

I stepped around her and went down the rest of the stairs.

That night we ate at Gianni's apartment.

He lived over a bakery on Ninth Street, three rooms and a fire escape, and the whole place smelled like bread.

There was almost nothing in it.

A table, four chairs, a couch, a chessboard on a milk crate.

A photo of his mother on the fridge, held up with a pizza magnet.

"It's very clean," Bess said, looking around. "Like a cell."

"Bess."

"It's a compliment. My apartment has a smell."

Gianni set a pot of gravy on the table.

"I lived in six feet by nine for four years," he said. "I got used to owning one fork."

"How many forks do you own now?"

"Six," he said. "I went crazy."

Bess laughed so hard she had to put her wine down.

Archie wasn't interested in forks.

He'd found the chessboard right away.

"Who do you play with?"

"Nobody," Gianni said. "I play the book. Old games, from a book."

"That's sad," Archie said. "Play me."

Gianni looked at me.

I shrugged.

"Your funeral."

They played before dinner.

Gianni sat on the floor with his long legs folded and his elbows on his knees, frowning at the board.

Archie knelt on a chair and hummed.

The game took ten minutes.

"Checkmate," Archie said.

Gianni stared at the board.

"Again," he said.

"Okay."

The second game took nine.

"You lean your head left before you move your queen," Archie said kindly. "Every time. You should stop that."

Gianni looked up at me across the room with an expression I will remember for the rest of my life.

"He's five?"

"And a quarter," Archie and I said together.

Keep reading free with an account. Start The Mafia Heir's Revenge Baby from Chapter 1, then sign up free to read the rest of this chapter.