Chapter 23
“Mama. We need to talk.”
Angelo and his mother were walking in the sun together, moseying along First Avenue from the apartment up to the restaurant. The Saturday morning traffic was busy with some tourists, some locals, and monstrous city buses jockeying for position like sumo wrestlers amidst a stampede of Chihuahuas. Seattle was always busy during the day. Thankfully, unlike New York, the city did sleep at night. He liked that, felt it added some character that the Big Apple had somehow lost.
Men kept turning to look at them. No. To look at his mother and he didn’t like it a bit. She wore her hair loose, with a bright floral scarf over it. The powder blue sweater swept low across her chest and clung in all of the right places. She wore a dark skirt that wrapped tight about
