Santorini Caesars by Jeffrey Siger Page B

both.”
    â€œHey,” said Dimos, “your girlfriend’s heading straight for us and she’s waving a chef’s knife.”
    The cops all spun around in their chairs.
    Right behind Sappho marched her mother bearing a melon, a plate of pastries, and silverware. She put everything down in front of Petro, pinched his cheeks, and smacked her hands together. All with a big smile and not saying a word.
    Sappho walked to where she’d been sitting and leaned over the table to cut the melon.
    Petro studied her face, not more than a lean-in away from his own. Long dark hair framed a slightly coffee-colored face set with sparkling dark eyes, a broad nose, and a prominent, dimpled square chin. A traditional Greek-looking woman.
    â€œI hope you’re dying to kiss me,” she said without looking at him.
    â€œAbsolutely, but why do you ask?”
    â€œSo I can entice you into telling me why you’re really on Santorini.”
    â€œWe told you why,” said Francesco.
    She caught his eye. “I’ve spent my life surrounded by military types and hotel types. They’re very different breeds. And you’re definitely not hotel types.”
    â€œYou think we’re military?” said Dimos.
    She shook her head from side to side and went back to cutting the melon. “The Air Force base is just down the hill from here at the airport, we have a lot of regulars from there. In fact some of the guys talking to my father are from the base. There’s some big gathering this weekend and they want to take over the restaurant to hold a dinner.” She shifted her eyes to Petro’s. “If you’re here because of that, maybe I’ll get to see you again.”
    Petro smiled. “I certainly hope so, but it won’t be because we’re military. I’m just a working stiff trying to get by in a worse-than-lousy economy.”
    She smiled. “I thought you’re supposed to be the rich kid.”
    â€œMy friends slightly exaggerated. I’m the one with the contacts. That makes me the moneyman in their parlance. But it’s OPM.”
    â€œOPM?”
    â€œOther people’s money.”
    She nodded. “Fair enough. So what are you doing the rest of the night? It’s still early.”
    Petro laughed, reached around Sappho’s waist, pulled her toward him, and gave her a big kiss on the cheek. “I promise you I’ll be back. My schedule, though, is not my own this weekend. But if there is any way, I’ll let you know.”
    â€œYou liar. You haven’t even asked for my number.”
    Petro smiled again. “Don’t need it.” He held up a matchbook imprinted with the name and number of the restaurant.
    â€œQuick recovery.” She pulled out a pen and scribbled on a paper napkin. “Here’s my mobile number and e-mail address.”
    Sappho stood straight up and nodded to Dimos and Francesco. “Night guys, a pleasure meeting you.” She crouched down, gave Petro a quick kiss on the lips, and scurried off into the kitchen.
    Petros took out his phone and fiddled with it.
    â€œMy God,” said Francesco, “can’t you at least wait until after we’re out of here before putting your new girlfriend’s number in your phone? Look at those guys at the other table. They’re laughing at you.”
    â€œYep, they sure are,” said Petro still fidgeting with his phone. “It saves me from having to ask them to smile for the camera.”
    â€œCamera?” said Francesco.
    Dimos laughed. “Good move, kid.”
    Petro smiled at Dimos. “I thought you might like that.” He put down his phone and placed his hand on Francesco’s shoulder. “And I hope you realize, my friend, that with those photos I just took of all the military types gathered around that table, this meal is now officially a business expense.”
    Francesco’s face lit up. He swung around in his chair