Ginevra and I had earmarked Saturdays for an exploration of New York City. There were so many sites to see.
My favourite site was Central Park an oasis from the urban frantic New York. No matter the mood or weather we had frequent walks. I liked the lagoon with its ducks and benches to watch the world go by. I would often pop up to Whole Foods at Columbus Circle and pick up our lunch or breakfast from their huge deli section. New Yorkers were obsessed with eating out so Whole Foods deli was for many New Yorkers a “home cooked meal”.
Ginerva’s favourite was The Met Cloisters at the tip of Manhattan. It was always quiet and although the installations were in my opinion somewhat boring the calmness and serenity was so anti-New York. I discovered something fascinating about Ginevra on one of our trips to The Cloisters. We took the bus up through Harlem to get there and the bus broke down and we were thrust out in the street awaiting a replacement bus. Four Puerto Rican hoodlums approached us making jokes about Ginerva’s ass and one of them tried to pinch it. Well my little plum took out a stiletto knife and slashed the buttons of the aggressor’s leather jacket. Well they took their knives out and in thirty seconds they were on the pavement bleeding. My little plum! My sweet little plum! She bellowed in what she later told me was in Neapolitan dialect, “Want more sons of a whore. Come and meet your end!” Well those scratched up hoods ran off in terror. What a tough bird my little plum was although she was shaking like a leaf. I asked her about her knife wielding talents and she told me Daddy had taught her how to knife fight! In Naples he had said a girl is not safe with men unless she knew how to cut. My my. It was time to meet Don Lupara.
After our visit to The Cloisters we headed to a safer part of Harlem to one of our favourite restaurants “The Red Rooster” where we split a Charleston Boil and some shrimp grits. Ginerva had to calm herself down with two Tito’s Vodka martinis. She loved her martinis.
Speaking of love she insisted we return to my pad at the Dakota. She looked me in the eyes when we arrived and attacked me like a savage animal. Too many months of good behaviour she said. It was a pleasurable attack but damn Wuhan Wet Market Publishing. I am not going to soil my reputation and that of my little plum by giving any salacious details. In the morning exhausted by our “cavorting” and numbed out and a bit shy about our amorous explosion she left back to her place to finish some research.
Well my readers within 24 hours I received a special delivery package. When I opened it up, I could do nothing but scream and then vomit. There was a severed goat’s head in the box and a message, “The next time you fool with Ginerva it will be your head and balls in this package.” I had the feeling it was time to talk with Daddy!
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