Chapter 6: Back on the Job
Chapter 6
Back on the Job
For three weeks I gorged on pasta, cheese, and my favorite pastries—all compliments of Uncle Zeppe—and I didn’t feel guilty even once…until I tried pulling my pants up over my hips. I swore I’d never miss another workout as I drove to work, but I stopped short of swearing off pasta. That would be carrying things too far.
I walked into the station sporting a slight limp, but I wore a Friday-night smile on my face and it was only Monday morning.
“Hey, Brad.” I waved to the desk sergeant as I passed.
Brad smiled, then whistled—loud, so everyone heard. “Gianelli’s back. Brooklyn’s own superwoman.”
Half a dozen people greeted me as “hero” before I got to the steps. It felt good. Not that I wanted the adulation, but it was better than a
