Toni Tonioli

The Card

Jake swept past the deserted table, grabbing the small black book that Victor had left after wiping the table down and taking the dishes. The restaurant was crowded and the air was thick with hearty Italian scents. Rich cheeses, tomatoes, and garlic challenged the chatter of silverware on plates and the buzz of conversation for sensorial dominance. A boisterous laugh would claim supremacy before quickly being replaced by a tray of milanese and alfredo and lasagna. As much as he would have liked to avoid them, Jake could see one of his other tables vying for his attention toward the other end of the room. He smiled and with a quick nod and finger wave, made his way in her direction. Jake approached quickly trying to wish away the beads of sweat that had begun to develop on his forehead. There was nothing he could do about it on the floor but hope they weren’t too noticeable.