Chapter 3 - THE PROTECTOR’S SHADOW
Friday morning arrived with a strange,
unsettling stillness that I hadn't felt in years.
I woke up in our cramped apartment,
the sound of distant sirens echoing through the thin walls,
but for once,
I didn't feel the immediate weight of dread.
I walked into the kitchen,
where Toby was already sitting at the table,
carefully drawing a picture of a superhero with a blue cape.
He looked up and smiled,
his hands moving fast before I could even pour my coffee.
"You're late,"
he signed,
his eyes bright with mischief.
"I'm tired,"
I signed back,
ruffling his hair,
"but I have good news."
I didn't tell him about the mafia boss,
I didn't tell him about the bodyguards or the threats.
I just told him that work might be a little different from now on.
When I arrived at the restaurant for my afternoon shift,
the atmosphere was electric.
Waitresses stopped talking the moment I entered the locker room.
They moved out of my way as if I were carrying a loaded gun.
Brett,
the manager who had tried to humiliate me,
was nowhere to be seen.
In his place was a woman I had never met,
who handed me a new uniform and told me my hourly wage had been tripled.
"Compliments of the management,"
she said,
though she wouldn't meet my eyes.
I knew it wasn't the management,
I knew it was the shadow of Salvatore Marquetti.
I worked my shift in a daze,
waiting for the other shoe to drop,
waiting for the danger that surely followed a man like him.
At exactly 8:00 PM,
the front door chimes rang,
and the entire restaurant went cold.
Salvatore didn't go to the private room this time.
He walked straight to the center of the main dining floor,
his black wool coat trailing behind him.
He stopped at my station,
his presence a towering mountain of power that made the high-society diners whisper in fear.
He didn't say a word to anyone else,
he didn't acknowledge the owner who was rushing over to bow.
He looked at me,
raised his hand,
and signed one word.
"Toby."
I froze,
my heart stopping for a terrifying beat.
"Is he okay?"
I signed frantically,
my hands shaking.
Salvatore gave a small,
reassuring nod and signed back,
"He is fine."
"I sent a car to your house,"
"to bring him here for dinner."
"I want to meet the boy who inspired your hands."
I felt a rush of conflicting emotions,
fear for Toby’s safety and a strange,
undeniable trust in the man standing before me.
"You can't just take him,"
I signed,
my eyes flashing with protective fire.
Salvatore stepped closer,
so close I could smell the scent of expensive tobacco and rain.
"He is safe,"
he signed,
his eyes never leaving mine.
"My men are with him,"
"and they would die before a hair on his head is touched."
"I am not the monster your coworkers think I am, Tessa."
"To the world, I am a storm,"
"but to you, I am a shield."
Ten minutes later,
a sleek black limousine pulled up to the front of the restaurant.
The door opened,
and Toby stepped out,
looking wide-eyed at the glittering lights of the city.
He saw me through the window and waved,
his face lighting up with a joy I hadn't seen in a long time.
Salvatore walked to the door to meet him,
kneeling down on the expensive carpet so he was at Toby's eye level.
I held my breath as Salvatore raised his large,
scarred hands.
"Hello, Toby,"
he signed slowly and clearly.
"I am Salvatore."
"I hear you like superheroes."
Toby stared at him for a second,
then a slow,
wondering smile spread across his face.
"Are you a superhero?"
Toby signed back.
Salvatore looked up at me,
a rare,
vulnerable expression flickering in his eyes.
"I'm trying to be,"
he signed to the boy.
That night,
the most feared man in Chicago sat in the middle of a crowded restaurant,
eating pasta and signing jokes to a ten-year-old boy.
The city outside was loud and dangerous,
May you like
but inside the circle of Salvatore's protection,
we were finally heard.
