Genuine Lies

wore was a gold wedding band. He had a thin, aesthetic face only marginally lined, and deep, rich brown eyes that could smile indulgently at his grandchildren, weep over a soaring aria, or show no expression at all when he was ordering a hit.
    Business rarely tapped Delrickio’s emotions.
    He was fond of Drake, in an avuncular fashion, though he considered Drake a fool. It was that fondness that had caused Delrickio to meet with him personally rather than send someone less fastidious to rearrange Drake’s pretty face.
    Delrickio waved for a waitress. The restaurant was crowded, noisy with whiny children and the clatter of cutlery, but he got prompt service. Power covered him as neatly as his Italian suit.
    “Grapefruit juice,” he said in his faintly Bostonian accent. “A bowl of melon balls, very cold, and whole wheat toast, dry. So,” he began when the waitress walked away. “You are well?”
    “Yes.” Drake felt his armpits dampen. “And you?”
    “Healthy as a horse.” Delrickio leaned back and pattedhis flat belly. “My Maria still makes the best linguini in the state, but I cut down on my portions, eat only a salad for lunch and go to the gym three times a week. My cholesterol’s a hundred seventy.”
    “That’s wonderful, Mr. Delrickio.”
    “This is your only body.”
    Drake didn’t want his only body carved like a turkey. “Your family?”
    “Wonderful.” Always the doting papa, he smiled. “Angelina gave me a new grandson last week. Now I have fourteen grandchildren.” It made him misty-eyed. “This is a man’s immortality. And you, Drake, you should be married to a nice girl, making babies. It would center your life.” He leaned forward, an earnest, concerned father about to impart sage advice. “It’s one thing to fuck beautiful women. A man must be a man, after all. But family, there’s nothing to replace it.”
    Drake managed a smile as he lifted his cup. “I’m still looking.”
    “When you stop thinking with your dick and think with your heart, you’ll find.” He let out a sigh as their meal was served, then lifted a brow at Drake’s and tallied the grams of fat. “Now …” Nearly wincing at the syrup Drake puddled over his pancakes, Delrickio dantily forked a melon ball. “You’re prepared to pay off your debt.”
    The bite of ham stuck in Drake’s throat. As he fought to swallow it, he felt a thin line of sweat trickle down his side. “As you know, I’ve had a little downswing. Right now I’m experiencing a temporary cash-flow problem.” He soaked his pancakes with more syrup while Delrickio solemnly ate his fruit. “I am prepared to give you ten percent, as good faith.”
    “Ten percent.” Mouth pursed, Delrickio spread a thimbleful of strawberry jam on his toast. “And the other ninety thousand?”
    Ninety thousand. The two words rang like hammer blows inside Drake’s skull. “As soon as things break for me. All I need is one winner.”
    Delrickio dabbed his lips with his napkin. “So you’ve said before.”
    “I realize that, but this time—”
    Delrickio had only to lift a hand to cut off Drake’s hurried explanations. “I have an affection for you, Drake, so I’ll tell you gambling is a fool’s game. For me, it is part of my business, but it disturbs me to see you risk your … your health on point spreads.”
    “I’m going to make it up on the Super Bowl.” Drake began to eat quickly, struggling to fill the hole fear left in his gut. “I need only a week.”
    “And if you lose?”
    “I won’t.” A desperate smile, sweat streaming down his back.
    Delrickio went on eating. A bite of melon, a bite of toast, a sip of juice. At the table beside them, a woman settled a toddler into a high chair. Delrickio winked at the child, then returned to the routine—melon, toast, juice. Drake felt the eggs congeal in his stomach.
    “Your aunt is well?”
    “Eve?” Drake licked his lips. He knew, as few did, that Delrickio and his aunt had had a brief, torrid affair. Drake had never been sure if he could count that in his favor. “She’s fine.”
    “I hear she’d decided to publish her memoirs.”
    “Yes.” Though his stomach protested, Drake drank more coffee. “That is, she’s brought in a writer from the East to do her authorized bio.”
    “A young woman.”
    “Julia Summers. She seems competent.”
    “And how much does your aunt plan to make public?”
    Drake felt a little wave of relief at the turn in the conversation. He