The same orange neon sign spelled out the restaurant’s name in looping cursive letters across the side of the brick building. The white and green awning still covered the outdoor patio, filled with diners sitting at the black wrought-iron tables and chairs. When he walked inside, the back wall still boasted a hand-painted mural of a Venice waterway. “Do you have a reservation?” The hostess, her blue eyes heavily made up with glittering green eye shadow, stood guard at the hostess station. “No. I’d like that booth over there, please.” He motioned to one in the back corner of the restaurant. Filled now with a family of five, including a rambunctious toddler in a high chair, the booth would easily accommodate six adults. “I don’t mind waiting.” “Are you sure I can’t seat you at a table—” “No. That booth, please. I’ll wait.” He settled off to the side, waiting for forty-five minutes while the family finished their dinner and then the busboy cleared the table.
