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“I’ve got you,” I assure her, my voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through me. I charge through the door, bursting out into the cool night air.
The contrast between the suffocating heat inside and the crisp night breeze is jarring. I set Fee down gently, keeping an arm around her as she sobs, watching her livelihood burn.
Assessing the fire quickly, I realize it’s not as severe as it could be. With the right equipment, I could probably handle it myself. But that would raise too many questions.
I pull out my phone, dialing 911. “There’s a fire at Perfezione on 43rd Street. Send the fire department immediately.”
Within minutes, we hear the wail of sirens approaching. The FDNY truck pulls up, firefighters jumping into action.
The fire chief approaches us, his face grave. Thank God he showed up. He’s been a family friend for years. “Don Pirelli, what’s the situation?”
“The fire seems to be contained to the main shop area,” I report. “The building’s occupants are safe, but we need to save as much of the shop as possible.”
As the firefighters work to extinguish the blaze, I hold Fee close, her body shaking with sobs. I scan the area, my eyes narrowed. This was no accident, and whoever did this is going to pay dearly.
People begin emerging from their homes, drawn by the commotion. Their gasps and cries of dismay echo through the night air as they recognize Perfezione.
“Oh, no, not the All Around!”
“Who would do such a thing?”
“That place has helped so many people…”
Each exclamation fuels my anger. There’s no doubt in my mind that this is Gino Timpone’s handiwork—his twisted idea of revenge for Fee not coughing up the protection money. The coward couldn’t even face her himself.
The fire chief approaches us, his face grim. “Don Pirelli, Ms. Saldano, I’m afraid we need to call the police. This is clearly arson.”
I nod, my jaw clenched while Fee sobs. “Of course, Chief. We’ll cooperate fully.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I spot news vans pulling up. Reporters and camera crews spill out, eager to capture the story. One of them recognizes Fee and rushes over.
“Ms. Saldano! Can you tell us what happened? How will this affect your community outreach programs?”
I step in front of Fee, shielding her from the reporters’ prying eyes as Marco approaches. “No comment at this time,” I say firmly.
As more cameras turn our way, I realize the gravity of the situation. Perfezione isn’t just any shop—it’s a community staple, known for clothing and feeding those in need. This fire isn’t just an attack on Fee. It’s an attack on the entire neighborhood.
“Gino,” Fee whispers. “This is all Gino’s doing.”
I pull Fee closer, whispering in her ear. “We’ll get through this, I promise. Gino won’t get away with this.”
She looks up at me, her eyes red-rimmed. “Lou,” she croaks. “I need to make sure Lou and Zip are okay.”
I nod, understanding her concern. “Of course. Marco will take you to Zip’s apartment. You should stay there tonight. It’s safer.”
She hesitates, glancing back at the shop. I squeeze her hand reassuringly. “Go. I’ll handle things here and join you later.”
As Marco leads Fee to the car, I turn to face the fire chief and the newly arrived police officers.
“Don Pirelli,” the police captain greets me. “Can you tell us what happened here?”
I spend the next hour giving statements, carefully omitting certain details while emphasizing others. Once the authorities are satisfied and the fire is fully extinguished, I walk through what’s left of Perfezione.
The damage isn’t as bad as I feared. Some things are charred, but overall, it’s salvageable. Still, the sight of it makes my blood boil. Gino will pay for this.
I pull out my phone, dialing Jimbo. He answers on the fourth ring, his voice groggy. “Boss? It’s 3 AM…”
“Perfezione was lit on fire tonight,” I cut in, my voice cold. Where the fuck was the security I had asked Jimbo and Romero to get?I’ll deal with that later.
