“Ahh.” Angel grinned.

“Yeah.” He grinned, too. “So, uh, I’ll catch up with you later?”

She nodded. “Sure.”

He shoved his hands into his pockets and took a step back. “And we’ll dance?”

She nodded. “We’ll dance.” This time she sounded more certain.

“Good.” He turned and headed for the booth, hoping they could sustain the truce longer than just this night.

PIRRO LOVED LIFE, but his happiness was tied to his family’s, and they were all an unhappy mess. His daughter was separated, his son-in-law, who he loved like his own, couldn’t see past his own pain and hurt to find his way back to the wife he loved, and Pirro’s own wife was out of sorts but wouldn’t tell him what was wrong. His side business was the only thing stress-free these days.

Pirro, on the other hand, valued what was important, and he decided to surprise his Vivian with flowers. Maybe that would cheer her up. He purchased the nicest bouquet he could find from Manny the florist, who’d set up a booth at the end of the street outside his shop.

Pirro paid, pocketed his change and turned to head back to the spice booth, but he was stopped by two young men he’d seen around town earlier. He didn’t know their names, but they were the only ones wearing argyle sweaters in the heat of summer, so they stood out even among the other strangers in town.

“Pirro DeVittorio?” the blonder of the two men asked.

“The one and only! What can I do for you? Is it my company’s homegrown basil that interests you?” He’d been fielding requests all day after people tasted Vivian’s calzone and asked what the secret ingredient was.

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The blonde fellow eyed the darker-haired man and laughed. “Yeah, the basil.”

“My son-in-law, Nick, can give you information about product. I’m just in charge of distribution,” Pirro explained. “And while you’re discussing the basil, please take a look at our other products. I’m sure you’ll find our spices are better than any on the market today.”

“Pops, we don’t need the spiel. We’re already sold.”

Pirro grinned. “Well, that makes things simpler, but the same rules apply. My son-in-law is taking orders at the booth. Then we’ll be in touch as to shipment dates and times.”

The darker-haired man took a step closer. “No, we’ll tell you how it’s going to be. We want in on your supplier and distribution.”

Pirro raised an eyebrow. “You’re confused. My company, the Spicy Secret, is the supplier. Our spices are homegrown,” he said proudly. He’d worked his way up in the company, starting as a delivery boy when he was in high school. He’d been a part of their growth and success.

“Pops, you don’t have to play word games with us. We know you’re in the drug trade. So are we.”

“Drug trade?” Pirro narrowed his gaze. They couldn’t be referring to his side business. Nobody but close friends knew about that.

“Our bosses in New York just want access to your Canadian supplier. Tell him you’re ready to move into the harder stuff, and we’ll take care of the rest.”

They knew.

Pirro’s mouth grew dry. His side trade had happened accidentally after he’d married Vivian. He’d been good friends with her husband, and, after his passing, he began keeping Vivian company. Their friendship progressed to romance, they fell in love and Pirro quickly discovered his old friend’s tales about his insatiable wife were true. Pirro had a hard time keeping up with Vi, but he didn’t want to disappoint her in bed. He confided in his doctor, who gave him a sample of Viagra and Pirro discovered the little pill was magic. But he couldn’t fill a prescription and risk his Vivian finding out his stamina wasn’t naturally his.

A friend told him about a friend who had a friend across the border in Canada who could get Viagra cheap. Pirro contacted the man, and soon he was meeting him monthly to pick up more pills. His barbershop group noticed his good mood, he admitted what caused the change and soon he became the Viagra king of Hidden Falls, supplying his friends with Viagra and single-handedly helping the sex life and maintaining the privacy of the town’s older male population. It was a harmless side business. But what these men wanted sounded dangerous.

“Who told you about the Viagra?” he asked.

“That doesn’t matter. The point is, we know and we want in on your supplier and use of your trucks to ship to New York.”

“Who do you boys think you are, coming to my hometown and making demands?” Pirro straightened his shoulders, and though he was shorter than both men, he was bulky enough to be intimidating.

“We’re the guys you don’t say no to,” the blond guy said, unfazed.

“Well, I just did.”

“Sorry. Wrong answer,” the darker-haired one said.

“But we’ll tell you what. Since we’re here for a few days, take some time and think about it. I’m sure you’ll do the right thing.” He turned to his friend. “Let’s go get something to eat.”

Pirro shivered and watched them leave, telling himself they’d go back to the city after the festival and everything would be fine. He hadn’t totally convinced himself, but he couldn’t possibly get involved in illegal drugs.

He walked through town, stopping at various booths, waving to friends, most of whom he’d known for years. Many of whom were now his customers. Pirro prided himself on taking care of the men in this town, men like him, who had erectile-dysfunction problems that a little pill called Viagra took care of.

Although Viagra was a prescription medication in the United States, most of his friends, like Pirro, didn’t want their wives to know about their little problem or lack of stamina. By purchasing across the border in Canada, there was no insurance involved, no paperwork, and best of all, no nosey Gertrude at the pharmacy to ring up their order and snitch to their wives. Pirro thought of supplying Viagra to his friends as a good deed. He didn’t mark up the pills or make a profit. He just made sure the men and women in town had their happy endings.

But what those two men wanted involved hard drugs, and, to make matters worse, they obviously wanted him to send those drugs to New York on company trucks for distribution in the city.

He shook his head and broke into a sweat. There had to be five kinds of felonies involved in what they were asking. No way would he agree, Pirro thought.

No way at all.




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