Chapter 14: The Check

Mickey didn't think.

He went down the stairs past Vin with the picture in his fist.

"Mickey," Vin said, behind him.

Mickey was already out the door and across Lincoln Avenue in the rain.

The back window of the Mercedes slid down the rest of the way.

Pietro smiled up at him from the leather seat.

"Congratulations," he said. "A boy. A Bianchi boy."

"How do you know that?"

"The walls of that building are very thin. And the flower shop downstairs takes cash." Pietro looked past Mickey.

"Vincenzo. Get your omega out of the rain."

Vin had stopped one step behind Mickey.

He didn't touch him.

"Drive away, Uncle," he said.

"I'm going." Pietro tapped the window frame. "I'll stop by your shop tomorrow, Mickey. I owe you an apology."

The window went up.

The Mercedes pulled into traffic.

Mickey stood in the rain until Vin said, "Can I?" and held his coat over Mickey's head, and Mickey let him.

Pietro came at ten the next morning.

Pietro, not Vin.

He came alone, without a driver, carrying a white bakery box from the Polish place next door.

"I bought paczki," he said, setting it on the counter. "Your neighbor says you like the rose ones."

Mickey was at the bench in the back, rekeying a padlock.

He came out to the counter and stood behind it.

Above his head, in the corner, was the little camera he'd put up the day after the brick.

It recorded sound too.

Mickey looked at the camera, then back at Pietro, and didn't say anything.

Aoife was in class.

The street outside the plywood was busy and normal.

"I was wrong at the clinic," Pietro said.

"I came at you like a businessman. You're not a business. You're the father of my great-nephew."

"I'm the parent. You can say parent."

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