No Ordinary Love (29 page)

“Thank you, Angelo,” Tony said.

“Yeah, whatever,” Angelo said. “Let’s go.”

Trina smiled at Aika, and Aika nodded.

She saw Angelo almost smile, too,
Trina thought.
There’s a nice guy under all that testosterone, and it’s our job to bring him out.

Trina closed her eyes briefly.
Thank you, God, for sending me a good man, and please help Angelo accept me, amen.
She opened her eyes and smiled at Tony. “Are you ready?”

“Yes,” Tony said. “I am ready for anything.”

So am I.

28

“A
rt E.! Art E.! Over here!”

“Why are you in San Francisco?”

“Is she your girlfriend?”

“Is that your brother?”

“Why have you both been hiding from the world?”

The camera crews and reporters surrounded the quartet on their way to the taxi.

“Don’t say anything, Tony,” Angelo said, holding Aika’s hand and parting the way ahead of them.

“What about me?” Trina asked as she tried desperately to keep hold of Tony’s hand as reporters crowded around them.

“You’ve already said too much,
obviously,
” Angelo said.

A reporter stood in front of the taxi’s back door. “Angelo, did you write Tony’s biography to make yourself rich and famous?”

“What do you think?” Angelo said.

“I don’t know,” the reporter said. “That’s why I asked you.”

“Jerk,” Angelo said, and he pushed the reporter aside and opened the back door. “Let’s go.”

Aika faced the reporter as camera crews surrounded the taxi. “Angelo wrote Tony’s biography anonymously. How would that make him famous?”

“Angelo’s going to be famous now, isn’t he?” the reporter said. “He knew this would eventually happen one day, right?”

“He didn’t write it to become rich or famous,” Aika said. “He wrote it to celebrate his brother and to raise money for Asperger’s research.”

“And who are you?” the reporter asked.

“I’m Angelo’s girlfriend and an editor at Random House,” Aika said.

“So Angelo hooked up with you because of his book?” the reporter asked.

“We
met
at Random House,” Aika said. “I didn’t edit his book.”

“Uh-huh,” the reporter said. “It must be nice to be dating a writer who’s already made a couple million bucks and won the National Book Award, huh?”

“What’s your point?” Aika asked.

“No point,” the reporter said. “Just seems to be two women here who like going for the gold. And there’s going to be even more money in the future. I hear they’re trying to get Johnny Depp to play the Sponge in a movie.”

“I like Johnny Depp,” Tony said, and the media flowed toward him and Trina.

“So do I,” Trina said. “Have you seen all his movies?”

“Yes,” Tony said. “I like him when he’s a pirate. Captain Jack Sparrow.”

Aika pulled on Trina’s arm. “As far as I know, Tony’s story is not for sale to any movie studios.” She ducked under Angelo’s arm and got into the taxi.

“Come on, Tony,” Angelo said. “Let’s go.”

Shouting erupted:

“Tony, where are you going?”

“Are you going back to Brooklyn?”

“Why did your brother come to San Francisco?”

Tony let his eyes roam around the crowd. “I am going to ride the cable cars with Trina.” He held the door for Trina, and she got in.

“So, did you have a good time with Trina last night?” a reporter asked Tony.

“Yes,” Tony said.

“So she kept you up all night, huh?”

“No,” Tony said. “I fell asleep on the couch.”

“Right,” the reporter said.

“My brother doesn’t lie,” Angelo said. “If he says he fell asleep, he fell asleep. Get in the taxi, Tony.”

“So you’re not sleeping with her, huh?” a reporter asked.

“No,” Tony said. “But I want to.”

Tony slid in, Angelo squeezed in, and the taxi moved forward and parted the crowd. Tony held out his hand, and Trina took it.

Tony wants to sleep with me,
Trina said.
Knowing him, we will most likely sleep, but that’s okay. That’s more than okay. I need a man to hold me all night long.

“We’re going to have to hustle to make your flight,” the taxi driver said, turning right on Hyde Street.

“We are riding the cable cars,” Tony said. “We are not flying on an airplane.”

“That’s right, Sergei,” Angelo said. “There’s been a change in plans.”

Sergei looked back. “The cable cars are right up the street. You could have walked.”

“If you hadn’t noticed,” Angelo said, “we were surrounded by those assholes.”

Sergei looked into the rearview mirror. “And those assholes are following us. I hate the paparazzi. Who’s famous?”

“My brother Angelo is famous,” Tony said. “He wrote a book about me.”

“And who are you?” Sergei asked.

“I am Tony Santangelo,” Tony said.

“Never heard of you,” Sergei said.

“I wrote songs for Walter Little,” Tony said. “I write songs for Naomi Stringer.”

“I
have
heard of them,” Sergei said. “That would make you Art E.”

“Yes,” Tony said. “But that is not my name.”

“I heard you were in town,” Sergei said. “You gonna give me a thousand-buck tip, too?”

“Just drive,” Angelo said.

“We’ve got quite a parade behind us,” Sergei said. “I might be persuaded to use evasive techniques to elude them.”

“A hundred more bucks if you can,” Angelo said. “Just get us away from them.”

“Make it two, and you won’t see any of them,” Sergei said as they crossed California Street.

“Two hundred then,” Angelo said.

Tony leaned over Angelo to look out the window. “There is a cable car.”

Trina squeezed Tony’s hand. “There are plenty of places to get on one.”

“Yes,” Tony said, facing forward again. “I see them all in my head. Sergei, go to Kent Street and Mason Street. We can park there and walk to a cable car.”

“And then maybe we can go to Fisherman’s Wharf,” Trina said. “I know you’re hungry.”

“It is your dime,” Sergei said.

“It will cost more than a dime,” Tony said.

As they moved through traffic, Trina looked at their hands.
I wish Tony would take my hand. He offers me his hand and gives me the choice to take it, which is the mark of a true gentleman, but it would be nice if he grabbed my hand occasionally.
She smiled at Tony.
I’m still worried Angelo will take Tony away from me, so I have to make this day last. Fisherman’s Wharf is a good place to waste a day, and tonight . . .
“If we’re going to Cielo Azul for dinner tonight, Tony, maybe we should make reservations now. For four people this time, not two.”

Aika smiled. “That sounds like a great idea.”

“Okay,” Tony said. He took out his cell phone.

Trina found the number in Tony’s list of recent calls, dialed it, and pressed the speaker button.

“This is Cielo Azul
.
How may I help you?”

“This is Tony Santangelo,” Tony said.

“Oh, yes, Mr. Santangelo,” the man said. “Or should I say Art E.? We hoped you would call back.”

“That’s not what you said last night,” Trina said. “You told him not to call back.”

“Our apologies,” the man said.

“
Your
apologies,” Trina said. “I recognize your voice. Say
you
are sorry.”

“I am sorry,” the man said, “but you have to admit having Art E. call out of the blue like that was hard to believe.”

“Art E. did not call you,” Tony said. “I am not Art E. I am Tony Santangelo. I did not call out of the blue. You cannot make a phone call out of a color.”

“Um, right, sir,” the man said. “We can reserve our best table for you any time you like this evening.”

“I am hungry now,” Tony said.

“But we’re not open for dinner until four o’clock, Mr. Santangelo,” the man said.

“You answered the phone now,” Tony said. “You are there now. I am hungry now. We will eat there now.”

“Sir, only one of our cooks is here now,” the man said. “The rest won’t be here until—”

“You are there now,” Tony interrupted.

“But I’m not a cook, Mr. Santangelo,” the man said. “I only take reservations.”

“We are coming now,” Tony said.

Sergei looked back. “So now we’re going to Cielo Azul? Please make up your minds.”

“Take us to the nearest place to ride a cable car, all right?” Angelo said. “That restaurant won’t be open yet, Tony.”

Tony handed the phone to Trina. “Find the menu for Cielo Azul.”

Trina located Cielo Azul’s Web site and clicked the MENU button.

“We will all order now,” Tony said.

“But sir—”

“We will order now,” Tony repeated.

“Tony, you’re being ridiculous,” Angelo said.

“I am hungry,” Tony said. “Trina, you order first.”

Trina scanned the menu. “I’ll have the couscous with a side order of lentil soup.” She handed the phone to Aika.

“Did you get that?” Tony asked.

“Um, yes, sir,” the man said. “Couscous with lentil soup. What else?”

“Oh, I’ll have the beef tartare with
bottarga
on
koji
toast,” Aika said. “Your turn, Angelo.” She reached across Trina and Tony to hand Angelo the phone.

“This is nuts,” Angelo said. “Um, you got a steak on this menu? I don’t see anything but duck, lamb, chicken, and fish.”

“The short rib is very good, sir,” the man said.

“All right,” Angelo said. “Give me that.”

Tony took the phone. “I will have the sturgeon, the big-fin squid, and the lamb loin.”

“You can’t eat all that,” Angelo said.

“I am very hungry,” Tony said. “And for dessert I want black sesame cake and chocolate mousse.”

“You’re going to explode, Tony,” Angelo said.

“I am not a bomb,” Tony said.

“If you eat all that you might become one,” Angelo said.

The man repeated the order. “We will have it ready for you as soon as we can.”

“We will be there soon,” Tony said.

“We’ll do our best to have it ready,” the man said. “Thank you for calling back, Mr. Santangelo.”

“You are welcome.” Tony turned off his phone. “I want to ride the cable cars now.”

Sergei pulled the taxi to the curb.

“You are stopping,” Tony said.

“I will wait until you decide what you are going to do,” Sergei said.

Angelo sat forward. “You got somewhere else you have to be, pal? I told you I’d pay you two hundred bucks for losing the paparazzi.” He looked out the back window. “I don’t see any, so you’ll get your money.”

“You tell me we are going to the airport and then your brother tells me to go to Mason and Kent,” Sergei said. “Then he tells me to go to Cielo Azul. Now you tell me to go to the nearest cable car. What’s it gonna be?”

“I want to ride the cable cars now,” Tony said.

“But we just ordered all that food,” Angelo said.

“I know.” Tony squeezed Trina’s hand. “Ha ha. I am funny. Ha ha.”

“Tony,” Aika said, “what’s so funny?”

“I am,” Tony said. “Ha ha.”

Sergei shook his head. “So we’re going to the nearest cable car stop now instead of Cielo Azul?”

“Yes,” Tony said. “To Mason and Kent. It is a good place to drop us off.”

“You’re confusing Sergei, Tony,” Angelo said. “You’re confusing me.”

“I have a good sense of humor,” Tony said. “Ha ha.” Tony winked at Trina.

Oh my goodness!
“We were never going to go to Cielo Azul, were we?” Trina asked.

“No,” Tony said. “Ha ha.”

“And we just ordered all . . . that . . .
food!
” Trina laughed loudly, and Aika joined in.

“I am funny,” Tony said. “Ha ha.”

Trina kissed his cheek. “You got him back, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” Tony said.

“We should really call them back and cancel the order, Tony,” Trina said.

“No,” Tony said. “They would not let me take you there. They must pay for being rude.”

Trina shrugged. “But where will we eat tonight?”

“I like Johnny Foley’s,” Tony said. “I will have the fish and mushy peas again. I will play the piano for you.”

“Tony,” Angelo said, “we can eat anywhere you want to.”

“We will eat at Johnny Foley’s,” Tony said. “You will hear me play, too.”

Sergei smiled. “So . . . to Mason and Kent and the cable cars?”

“Yes,” Tony said. “We are riding the cable cars now.”

After Sergei parked the taxi on Kent and Angelo paid him
four
hundred dollars, they collected Tony’s clothing bags and laptop case and climbed onto a moving cable car on Mason Street. While riding it through traffic to the end of Taylor Street, Tony scribbled a song.

“I will play it for you tonight,” Tony said.

The media and paparazzi were waiting at the Bay Street turnaround and rode with them on another cable car to Fisherman’s Wharf. They took hundreds of pictures of Tony and Trina holding hands, Tony ringing the bell, and Tony waving at people on the street. He answered none of the hundreds of questions they asked him because he was too busy sponging the city of San Francisco.

After eating fish tacos at the Codmother Fish and Chips, with fried Snickers and Twinkies for dessert, the quartet walked through the crowded and touristy Pier 39, giving Tony’s fans photo ops as he wandered through Houdini’s Magic Shop, rode a carousel on a white horse with Trina, and posed next to the guitars at the Hard Rock Cafe. A crowd of fans, camera crews, and reporters surrounded Tony as he watched the sea lions lounging on the docks, Alcatraz Island in the distance.

Tony read a sign to Trina: “ ‘Please do not feed our sea lion friends, thank you.’ They are so big. We do not have sea lions in Brooklyn.”

“They sometimes disappear,” Trina said. “Some say they swim up the coast to Oregon. But they always come back.”

“This is their home,” Tony said.

Several sea lions barked.

Tony wrote another song.

On the cable car ride back to California Street, near Saint Francis, Trina’s phone vibrated.
It better not be Robert,
she thought. “Hello?”